o side, he held the tiller with
one hand and with the other tugged at his moustache which by a constant
trembling betrayed the quiet smile on the thin lips. Tchelkache was
pleased with his success, with himself and with this lad, whom he had
terrified into becoming his slave. He enjoyed in advance to-morrow's
feast and now he rejoiced in his strength and the subjection of this
young, untried boy. He saw him toil; he took pity on him and tried to
encourage him.

"Hey! Say there!" he asked softly. "Were you very much afraid?"

"It doesn't matter!" sighed Gavrilo, coughing.

"You needn't keep on rowing so hard. It's ended, now. There's only
one more bad place to pass. . . Rest yourself."

Gavrilo stopped docilely, wiped the perspiration from his face with the
sleeve of his blouse and again dipped the oars in the water.

"That's right, row more gently. So that the water tells no tales.
There's a channel to cross. Softly, softly. Here, brother, are
serious people. They are quite capable of amusing themselves with a
gun, They could raise a fine lump on your forehead before you'd have
time to cry out."

The boat glided over the water almost without sound. Blue drops fell
from the oars and when they touched the sea there flamed up for an
instant a little blue spot. The night was growing darker and more
silent. The sky no longer resembled a rough sea; the clouds extended
over its surface, forming a thick, even curtain, hanging motionless
above the ocean. The sea was calmer and blacker, its warm and salty
odor was stronger and it did not appear as vast as before.

"Oh! if it would only rain!" murmured Tchelkache; "we would be hidden
by a curtain."

On the right and left of the boat, the motionless, melancholy, black
hulls of ships emerged from the equally black water. A light moved to
and fro on one; someone was walking with a lantern. The sea, caressing
their sides, seemed to dully implore them while they responded by a
cold, rumbling echo, as though they were disputing and refusing to
yield.

"The custom-house," whispered Tchelkache.

From the moment that he had ordered Gavrilo to row slowly, the lad had
again experienced a feeling of feverish expectation. He leaned
forward, toward the darkness and it seemed to him that he was growing
larger; his bones and veins stretched painfully; his head, filled with
one thought, ached; the skin on his back shivered and in his legs were
pricking sensations as