Then Iakov told him that the horse was dead, that all the corn had been eaten before the beginning of February, and that he himself had been unable to find any work. Hay was also short, and the cow had almost perished from hunger. They had managed as best they could until April and then they decided that Iakov should join the father far away and work three months with him. That is what they had written. Then they sold three sheep, bought flour and hay and Iakov had started. "How is that possible?" cried Vassali. "I sent you some money." "Your money didn't go far. We repaired the cottage, we had to marry sister off and I bought a plough. You know five years is a long time." "Hum," said Vassili, "wasn't it enough? What a tale of woe! Ah, there's my soup boiling over!" He rose and stooping before the fire on which was the saucepan, Vassili meditated while throwing the scum into the flame. Nothing in his son's recital had touched him particularly, and he felt irritated against his wife and Iakov. He had sent them a great deal of money during the last five years, and yet they had not been able to manage. If Malva had not been present he would have told his son what he thought about it. Iakov was smart enough to leave the village on his own responsibility and without the father's permission, but he had not been able to get a living out of the soil. Vassili sighed as he stirred the soup, and as he watched the blue flames he thought of his son and Malva. Henceforward, he thought, his life would be less agreeable, less free. Iakov had surely guessed what Malva was. Meanwhile Malva, in the cabin, was trying to arouse the rustic with her bold eyes. "Perhaps you left a girl in the village?" she asked suddenly. "Perhaps," he responded surlily. Inwardly he was abusing Malva. "Is she pretty?" she asked with indifference. Iakov made no reply. "Why don't you answer? Is she better looking than I, or no?" He looked at her in spite of himself. Her cheeks were sunburnt and plump, her lips red and tempting and now, parted in a malicious smile, showing the white even teeth, they seemed to tremble. Her bust was full and firm under a pink cotton waist that set off to advantage her trim waist and well-rounded arms. But he did not like her green and cynical eyes. "Why do you talk like that?" he asked. He sighed without reason and spoke in a beseeching tone, yet he wanted to speak brutally to her. "How shall I talk?" she asked laughing. "There you are, laughing--at what?" "At you--." "What have I done to you?" he said with irritation. And once more he lowered his eyes under her gaze. She made no reply. Iakov understood her relations towards his father perfectly well and that prevented him from expressing himself freely. He was not surprised. It would have been difficult for a man like his father to have been long without a companion. "The soup is ready," announced Vassili, at the threshold of the cabin. "Get the spoons, Malva."