"If that's all, I don't care! You're not the only woman here.... You seem to think that you're better than the others." "You are just like a silly little dog," she replied. And she rose and shook the dust from her skirts. And they walked back side by side to the fishery. They walked slowly, for the sand was heavy. Suddenly, when they were near the huts, Jakoff stopped, and seizing Malva roughly by the arm, said-- "It's on purpose then that you excite me?... Why do you do it?" "Let me alone, will you?" She escaped from him, and ran off, whilst from a corner of the huts Sereja appeared. He shook his wild unkempt head of hair, and said threateningly-- "You two have been carrying on ... all right!" "Go to the devil!" cried Malva. Jakoff had planted himself opposite Sereja, and was trying to stare him out of countenance. They were about ten paces from each other, and Sereja was staring straight into Jakoff's eyes. They remained thus for about a minute, like two rams ready to butt one another, then each walked off without a word in an opposite direction. The sea was calm and ruddy with the hues of the setting sun. A woman was singing in a drunken voice with hysterical cadences some meaningless words-- "Ta-agarga, matargarga, Matanichka my own, Drunken and beaten And wild." And these filthy and meaningless words seemed to fill the air all round the huts, from which arose exhalations of salt and of rotting fish; they filled the air, and destroyed the delicious music of the waves which floated all around. CHAPTER III In the pure light of dawn the sea slumbered softly, reflecting the pearly clouds. At the cape, the half-awakened fishermen were moving about arranging the nets in the boats. This every-day work was executed rapidly and in silence. The grey mass of the nets seemed to crawl from the sand into the boats, where it lay heaped at the bottom. Sereja, as usual bare-headed and scantily clothed, was in the bows, shouting directions about the work in a hoarse voice, that betrayed last night's over-indulgence in vodka. The wind played with his ragged clothing, and his unkempt hair. "Vassili, where are the green oars?" cried some one. Vassili, as gloomy as a late autumn day, was arranging the net in the boat, and Sereja was watching him from behind. He was licking his lips, which meant that he was thirsty, and wanted a drink. "Have you got any vodka?" he asked. "Yes," muttered Vassili. "All right! then I shall stay on dry land." "All aboard?" they called out from the cape. "Shove her off!" ordered Sereja, as he got out of the boat "Off you go!... I stay behind. Look out there!... Full ahead into the open, so as not to tangle the net ... and tell it out carefully. Don't make any knots.... Go ahead!" They pushed off the boat; the fishermen climbed in, and each taking an oar, raised them in the air, ready for the word of command. "One!"