mured:

"Do what you will . . . I'll not say one word. Pardon me, in the name
of Heaven!"

"Fool, you don't even know how to steal!" cried Tchelkache,
contemptuously. He tore his shirt under his waistcoat and, gritting
his teeth in silence, began to bandage his head.

"Have you taken the money?" he asked, at last.

"I haven't taken it, brother; I don't want it! It brings bad luck!"

Tchelkache thrust his hand into his waistcoat pocket, withdrew the
package of bills, put one of them in his pocket and threw all the rest
at Gavrilo.

"Take that and be off!"

"I cannot take it . . . I cannot! Forgive me!"

"Take it, I tell you!" roared Tchelkache, rolling his eyes frightfully.

"Pardon me! When you have forgiven me I'll take it," timidly said
Gavrilo, falling on the wet sand at Tchelkache's feet.

"You lie, fool, you'll take it at once!" said Tchelkache, confidently,
and raising his head, by a painful effort, he thrust the money before
his face. "Take it, take it! You haven't worked for nothing! Don't
be ashamed of having failed to assassinate a man! No one will claim
anyone like me. You'll be thanked, on the contrary, when it's learned
what you've done. There, take it! No one'll know what you've done and
yet it deserves some reward! Here it is!"

Gavrilo saw that Tchelkache was laughing, and he felt relieved. He
held the money tightly in his hand.

"Brother! Will you forgive me? Won't you do it? Say?" he supplicated
tearfully.

"Little brother!" mimicked Tchelkache, rising on his tottering limbs.
"Why should I pardon you? There's no occasion for it. To-day it's
you, to-morrow it'll be me . . ."

"Ah! brother, brother!" sighed Gavrilo, sorrowfully, shaking his head.

Tchelkache was standing before him, smiling strangely; the cloth
wrapped around his head, gradually reddening, resembled a Turkish
head-dress.

The rain fell in torrents. The sea complained dully and the waves beat
angrily against the beach.

The two men were silent.

"Good-bye!" said Tchelkache, with cold irony.

He staggered, his legs trembled, and he carried his head oddly, as
though he was afraid of losing it.

"Pardon me, brother!" again repeated Gavrilo.

"It's nothing!" drily replied Tchelkache, as he supported his head with
his left hand and gently pulled his moustache with his right.

Gavrilo stood gazing after him until he had disappeared in the rain
that still fell in fine, close drops, enveloping th