Never in all his life had he been so cruelly wounded, and never had he felt so vindictive.

“Well, are you happy now?” he asked Gavrila through his laughter, and turning his back on him he walked away in the direction of the town. But he had hardly taken two steps when Gavrila, crouched like a cat on one knee, and with a wide sweep of his arm, flung a round stone at him, viciously, shouting:

“O-one!”

Chelkash uttered a cry, clapped his hands to the nape of his neck, staggered forward, turned round to Gavrila, and fell on his face on the sand. Gavrila’s heart failed him as he watched him. He saw him stir one leg, try to lift his head, and then stretch out, quivering like a bow-string. Then Gavrila rushed away into the distance, where a shaggy black cloud hung over the foggy steppe, and it was dark. The waves rustled, racing up the sand, melting into it and racing back. The foam hissed and the spray flew through the air.

It began to rain, at first slightly, but soon a steady, heavy downpour was falling in streams from the sky, weaving a regular network of fine threads of water that at once hid the steppe and the sea. Gavrila vanished behind it. For a long while nothing was to be seen but the rain and the long figure of the man stretched on the sand by the sea. But suddenly Gavrila ran back out of the rain. Like a bird he flew up to Chelkash, dropped down beside him, and began to turn him over on the ground. His hand dipped into a warm, red stickiness. He shuddered and staggered back with a face pale and distraught.

“Brother, get up!” he whispered through the patter of the rain into Chelkash’s ear.

Revived by the water on his face, Chelkash came to himself, and pushed Gavrila away, saying hoarsely:

“Get—away!”

“Brother! Forgive me—it was the devil tempted me,” Gavrila whispered, faltering, as he kissed Chelkash’s hand.

“Go along. Get away!” he croaked.

“Take the sin from off my soul! Brother! Forgive me!”

“For—go away, do! Go to the devil!” Chelkash screamed suddenly, and he sat up on the sand. His face was pale and angry, his eyes were glazed, and kept closing, as though he were very sleepy. “What more—do you want? You’ve done—your job—and go away! Be off!” And he tried to kick Gavrila away, as he knelt, overwhelmed, beside him, but he could not, and would have rolled over again if Gavrila had not held him up, putting his arms round his shoulders. Chelkash’s face was now on a level with Gavrila’s. Both were pale and terrible-looking.

“Faugh!” Chelkash spat into the wide, open eyes of his companion.

Meekly Gavrila wiped his face with his sleeve and murmured:

“Do as you will. I won’t say a word. For Christ’s sake, forgive me!”

“Sniveling idiot! Even wickedness is beyond you!” Chelkash cried scornfully, tearing a piece off his shirt from under his jacket, and without a word, clenching his teeth now and then, he began binding up his head. “Did you take the notes?” he filtered through his teeth.

“I didn’t touch them, brother! I didn’t want them! They bring ill luck!”

Chelkash thrust his hand into his jacket pocket, drew out a bundle of notes, put one rainbow-colored note back in his pocket, and handed all the rest to Gavrila.