"Was I not foolish, Vassili? I thought you no longer loved me! I said to myself, 'now his son is here he will neglect me for him.'" And she burst out laughing, a strange forced laugh. "Foolish girl!" said Vassili, smiling in spite of himself. He felt himself at fault, and was sorry for her, but remembering what she had said, he went on crossly: "My son has nothing to do with it. If I beat you it was your own fault. Why did you cross me?" "I did it on purpose to try you." And purring like a cat she rubbed herself against his shoulder. He glanced furtively towards the cabin and bending down embraced the young woman. "To try me?" he repeated. "As if you wanted to do that? You see the result?" "Oh, that's nothing!" said Malva, half closing her eyes. "I'm not angry. You beat me only because you loved me. You'll make it up to me." She gave him a long look, trembled and lowering her voice repeated: "Oh, yes, you'll make it up to me." Vassili interpreted her words in a sense agreeable to him. "How?" he asked. "You'll see," replied Malva calmly, very calmly, but her lips trembled. "Ah, my darling!" cried Vassili, clasping her close in his arms. "Do you know that since I have beaten you I love you better." Her head fell back on his shoulders and he placed his lips on her trembling mouth. The sea gulls whirled about over their heads uttering hoarse cries. From the distance came the regular and gentle splash of the tiny waves breaking on the sand. When, at last, they broke from their long embrace, Malva sat up on Vassili's knee. The peasant's face, tanned by wind and sun, was bent close to hers and his great blond beard tickled her neck. The young woman was motionless; only the gradual and regular rise and fall of her bosom showed her to be alive. Vassili's eyes wandered in turn from the sea to this woman by his side. He told Malva how tired he was of living alone and how painful were his sleepless nights filled with gloomy thoughts. Then he kissed her again on the mouth with the same sound that he might have made in chewing a hot piece of meat. They stayed there three hours in this way, and finally, when he saw the sun setting, Vassili said with a bored look: "I must go and make some tea. Our guest will soon he awake." Malva rose with the indolent gesture of a languorous cat, and with a gesture of regret he started towards the cabin. Through her half-open lids the young woman watched him as he moved away, and sighed as people sigh when they have borne too heavy a burden. * * * * * Fifteen days later it was again Sunday and again Vassili Legostev, stretched out on the sand near his hut, was gazing out to sea, waiting for Malva. And the deserted sea laughed, playing with the reflections of the sun, and legions of waves were born to run on the sand, deposit the foam of their crests and return to the sea, where they melted.