“We’ll have a jolly good spree, my lad!” Chelkash cried ecstatically. “Eh, we’ve enough to. Never fear, mate, I’ll give you your share. I’ll give you forty, eh? Satisfied? If you like, I’ll give it you now!”

“If—you don’t mind. Well? I wouldn’t say no!”

Gavrila was trembling all over with suspense and some other acute feeling that dragged at his heart.

“Ha—ha—ha! Oh, you devil’s doll! ‘I’d not say no!’ Take it, mate, please! I beg you, indeed, take it! I don’t know what to do with such a lot of money! You must help me out, take some, there!”

Chelkash held out some notes to Gavrila. He took them with a shaking hand, let go the oars, and began stuffing them away in his bosom, greedily screwing up his eyes and drawing in his breath noisily, as though he had drunk something hot. Chelkash watched him with an ironical smile. Gavrila took up the oars again and rowed nervously, hurriedly, keeping his eyes down as though he were afraid of something. His shoulders and his ears were twitching.

“You’re greedy. That’s bad. But, of course, you’re a peasant,” Chelkash said musingly.

“But see what one can do with money!” cried Gavrila, suddenly breaking into passionate excitement, and jerkily, hurriedly, as though chasing his thoughts and catching his words as they flew, he began to speak of life in the village with money and without money. Respect, plenty, joy!

Chelkash listened to him attentively, with a serious face and eyes filled with some dreamy thought. At times he smiled a smile of content. “Here we are!” Chelkash cried at last, interrupting Gavrila.

A wave caught up the boat and neatly drove it onto the sand.

“Come, mate, now it’s over. We must drag the boat up farther, so that it shouldn’t get washed away. They’ll come and fetch it. Well, we must say good-by! It’s eight versts from here to the town. What are you going to do? Coming back to the town, eh?”

Chelkash’s face was radiant with a good-humoredly sly smile, and altogether he had the air of a man who had thought of something very pleasant for himself and a surprise to Gavrila. Thrusting his hand into his pocket, he rustled the notes there.

“No—I—am not coming. I—” Gavrila gasped, and seemed choking with something.

Chelkash looked at him in perplexity.

“What’s the matter with you?” he asked.

“Why—” But Gavrila’s face flushed, then turned gray, and he moved irresolutely, as though he were half longing to throw himself on Chelkash, or half torn by some desire, the attainment of which was hard for him.

Chelkash felt ill at ease at the sight of such excitement in this lad. He wondered what form it would take.

Gavrila began laughing strangely, a laugh that was like a sob. His head was downcast, the expression of his face Chelkash could not see; Gavrila’s ears only were dimly visible, and they turned red and then pale.

“Well, damn you!” Chelkash waved his hand. “Have you fallen in love with me, or what? One might think you were a girl! Or is parting from me so upsetting? Hey, suckling! Tell me, what’s wrong? Or else I’m off!”