“That’s right! Now on the shoulder! Harder! Cursed devils! They gave it to me! And all because of a woman. If there had been no woman, I should have been sober, and when I am sober just try and touch me.”

“Women!” responded Cain, who had now quite taken up his rôle as a servant, “they are the sin of the world. We Jews—we have even a daily prayer which runs, ‘Blessed be Thou, God eternal, Ruler of the universe, that Thou didst not create me a woman.’ ”

“Is that true?” exclaimed Artyom, laughing. “You really have a prayer like that? What singular people you are! Well, a woman, after all, what is she? Foolish, no mistake about it, and yet one cannot live without her—but to pray like that—that’s going too far, it is an insult to her. Do you think that women have no feelings?”

Artyom, huge, helpless, looking more enormous than ever from the swellings on his body, lay stretched upon the ground, while Cain, frail and thin, breathless with exertion, rubbed his sides, his chest, and his stomach, coughing the while from the smell of the vodka. They could hear the footsteps of people continually passing along beside the river, and caught scraps of conversation. The barge lay at the bottom of a sandy ravine that was over seven feet deep. It could only be seen from above if one stood at the very edge of the ravine. A narrow strip of sand, covered with splinters of wood and rubbish, separated it from the river. The place, as a rule, was quite deserted, but today the barge appeared to be an object of exceptional interest to the passers-by. Cain and Artyom saw them one after the other walk up to it and seat themselves on the upturned hull, kicking the sides the while. Cain grew rather uneasy; he left off talking, and creeping quietly up to Artyom he said with a frightened, piteous little smile on his face:

“Do you hear that?”

“I hear,” said the athlete, laughing contentedly. “I know what they are up to. They want to find out whether I shall be about again soon; and why they want to know this, is in order to get their ribs ready. Ha! Ha! The devils! I suppose they’re sorry that I haven’t croaked! Their little piece of work came to nothing after all.”

“I tell you what—” Cain whispered in his ear, with a grimace of terror and warning on his face—“I tell you what, suppose I leave you, and you remain all alone…then they will come to you and…and…”

Artyom opened his mouth to give vent to a whole volley of hoarse laughs.

“Why, you little imp you! do you imagine for a moment they are afraid of you? Of you?”

“Ah! But I can serve as a witness.”

“They will give you a rap on the head. Ha! Ha! Ha! Then you can go and bear witness—in the next world.”

His laughter drove away Cain’s fear. A feeling of delightful security took possession of his shrunken and depressed heart.

His life henceforth would assume quite another complexion, for there would be a strong hand to ward off the blows and injustice which had hitherto been inflicted upon him with impunity.

Nearly a month passed.

One day towards noon, the hour when life in Shikhan grows more intense and agitated, and reaches the highest pitch of activity, the hour when the vendors of food are surrounded by a swarm of men just up from the docks and landing-stages, all with empty stomachs and craving food, the hour when the whole street is rank with the hot smell of cooked, spoiled meat, at that hour someone called out in a low voice, “Artyom is coming!”