ade of a boat lay Vassili Legostev, the watchman at this
outpost of the Grebentchikov fishing grounds. Lying on his stomach, his
head resting on his hands, he was gazing fixedly out to sea, where away
in the distance danced a black spot. Vassili saw with satisfaction that
it grew larger and was drawing nearer.

Screwing up his eyes on account of the glare caused by the reflection on
the water, he grunted with pleasure and content. Malva was coming. A
few minutes more and she would be there, laughing so heartily as to
strain every stitch of her well-filled bodice. She would throw her
robust and gentle arms around him and kiss him, and in that rich
sonorous voice that startles the sea gulls would give him the news of
what was going on yonder. They would make a good fish soup together,
and drink brandy as they chatted and caressed each other. That is how
they spent every Sunday and holiday. And at daylight he would row her
back over the sea in the sharp morning air. Malva, still nodding with
sleep, would hold the tiller and he would watch her as he pulled. She
was amusing at those times, funny and charming both, like a cat which
had eaten well. Sometimes she would slip from her seat and roll herself
up at the bottom of the boat like a ball.

As Vassili watched the little black spot grow larger it seemed to him
that Malva was not alone in the boat. Could Serejka have come along
with her? Vassili moved heavily on the sand, sat up, shaded his eyes
with his hands, and with a show of ill humor began to strain his eyes to
see who was coming. No, the man rowing was not Serejka. He rows strong
but clumsily. If Serejka were rowing Malva would not take the trouble
to hold the rudder.

"Hey there!" cried Vassili impatiently.

The sea gulls halted in their flight and listened.

"Hallo! Hallo!" came back from the boat. It was Malva's sonorous voice.

"Who's with you?"

A laugh replied to him.

"Jade!" swore Vassili under his breath.

He spat on the ground with vexation.

He was puzzled. While he rolled a cigarette he examined the neck and
back of the rower who was rapidly drawing nearer. The sound of the
water when the oars struck it resounded in the still air, and the sand
crunched under the watchman's bare feet as he stamped about in his
impatience.

"Who's with you?" he cried, when he could discern the familiar smile on
Malva's pretty plump face.

"Wait. You'll know him all right," she replied laug