"You think I won't strike you?" cried Vassili in a hoarse voice, arching his back like a cat prepared to spring. "Here we are all equals; you are a workman, and so am I." "That's all you know." "Yes, that's what I know. Why do you attack me? You think that I don't understand?... It's you who began...." Vassili shouted and raised his arm so rapidly that Jakoff had not time to fall back. The blow fell on his head; he staggered, ground his teeth in the furious face of his father, who was again threatening him. "Wait a moment!" he cried, clinching his fists. "Wait yourself!" "Leave me alone, I tell you." "Ah! that's the way you speak to your father? ... your father?... your father?..." They were close together, and their legs were entangled in the empty bags, the log, and the overturned barrel Protecting himself as best he could against his father's blows, Jakoff, pale and sweating, his face darkened, his teeth set firm, his eyes flashing like a wolfs, retired slowly, whilst his father pressed forward towards him, gesticulating ferociously, blind with rage, wildly distorted; in his anger his hair stood up like that of a wild boar. "Stop now ... That's enough ... leave off," cried Jakoff, cold and terrible, as he emerged from the hut. His father yelled and came on again, but his blows only met Jakoff's fists. "Take that, and that!" Jakoff, who knew himself now to be the stronger and the more agile, led his father on. "Just wait a moment!" But Jakoff jumped on one side and ran towards the sea. Vassili rushed after him with head down, and arms stretched out, but he stumbled over some obstacle, and fell, with his chest on the ground. He rose rapidly to his knees, and then sat down, resting his hands on the sand. He was completely exhausted by the struggle, and he howled piteously with unappeased rage, and with the bitter consciousness of his feebleness. "Curse you!" he cried, stretching his neck out in Jakoff's direction, and shaking the froth from his trembling lips. Jakoff was leaning against a boat, and watching him narrowly. With one hand he was rubbing his injured head. One of his shirt-sleeves hung by a thread, his collar also was in rags, and his white moist chest shone in the sun as if he had been rubbed with oil. He was feeling contempt for his father; he had thought him so strong, and now he saw him overcome and in a deplorable state, seated on the sand, shaking his fists, and Jakoff smiled condescendingly with the wounding smile of the strong over the weak. "May the lightning strike you!... Curse you again and again!" Vassili shouted his curses so loud that Jakoff turned involuntarily towards the fisheries, as if he thought that the desperate shouting could be heard there. But over there was nothing but waves and sunlight He spat, and remarked-- "Call, call louder! Who are you going to frighten?... And if there has been something between us I'll tell you at once and make an end of it...."