very late, the evening of the same day, when the work-people at the fisheries had finished their supper, malva, tired and dreamy, had seated herself on a broken, upturned boat, and was watching the sea, over which twilight was gradually falling. out yonder a fire was burning, and malva knew that it was vassili who had lit it half hidden and solitary in the sombre distance, the flame flashed up every now and then, and then died down as if crushed. and malva felt sad as she watched this red spot, abandoned in the waste of waters, and palpitating feebly amidst the ceaseless and incomprehensible murmur of the waves.
"why do you stay there?" said sereja's voice behind her.
"what's that to you?" she replied dryly, without moving.
"i am curious."
he watched her silently, and took out a cigarette, lit it, and sat astride the boat then as he realized that malva was not inclined to talk to him, he added in a friendly voice—
"what a queer sort of woman you are! at one moment you run away from everybody, and the next moment you throw yourself at every one's head."
"at yours, perhaps?" said malva carelessly. "not at mine, but at jakoff's."
"are you jealous?"
"hm! shall we talk to each other straight?" she was seated sideways to him; he could not see her face, as she interjected in a curt tone— "talk away!"
"have you quarrelled with vassili? tell me?"
"i am sure i don't know...." she replied, after a moment's silence. "why do you want to know?"
"just out of curiosity."
"i am angry with him."
"why?"
"he beat me."
"is it possible?... he?... and you allowed him to do it?... well!... well!..."
sereja could not get over it he tried to catch sight of malva's face, and made a mocking grimace.
"if i had liked i could have prevented him! she replied angrily.
"how's that?"
"i wouldn't defend myself!"
"you care for him then as much as that; that old grey cat?" said sereja, puffing out a mouthful of smoke. "here's a nice business! and i, who thought you were worth more than that!"
"i don't care for any of you!" she replied in a voice that had recovered its indifference, and brushing the smoke away with her hand.
"you are lying, i bet anything."
"why should i lie?" she asked.
and by the ring in her voice sereja recognized that she had no reason to lie.
"but if you don't care for him, why did you allow him to beat you?"
"how do i know?... leave me alone!"
"it's a queer go!" said sereja, shaking his head. and they were both silent night came on. the slow-moving clouds threw dark shadows over the sea. the waves moaned.
vassili's fire at the end of the cape had died down, but malva continued to look out in that direction. sereja watched the girl attentively.
"listen!" he said, "do you know what you want?"
"if only i could know!" she replied in a low voice, with a deep-drawn sigh.
"you don't know?... that's a bad job," said sereja positively. "i, i always know!"
and with a shade of sadness, he added—
"only it's so rarely that i want anything...." "and i, i am always wanting something," said malva. "i want ... what ... i don't know.... sometimes i would like to jump into a boat, and go out to sea, far, far out. and at other times i should like to turn all you men into tops, who would spin and spin in front of me. i should watch them, and i should laugh. sometimes i pity everybody, and especially myself; sometimes i want to kill everybody, and then do for myself some horrible death. and then i am bored, and then i want to laugh, and men are all a lot of sticks."
"they are rotten wood," sereja agreed softly. "i was right when i said to myself—'you are neither cat, nor fish, nor bird ... but you have something of all of them in you. you are not like other women."
"thank god!" sighed malva.
to their left, behind a chain of sandy hills, the moon rose, flooding them with its silvery light. large and soft it rose slowly in the blue sky, and the sparkling light of the stars paled, and was lost in its mellow, dreamy light.
"you think too much.... that's what's the matter!" said sereja in a convinced tone of voice, tossing away his cigarette. "and when one thinks, one becomes disgusted with life.... one must be always moving, always in the midst of people ... who must be made to feel that one is really alive. one must knock life about, or it will become mouldy. move about in life, here and there, as long as you are able, and then you won't be bored." malva grew gay.
"it's perhaps true what you say. sometimes i think that if one set fire one night to one of the huts ... that might make things lively!" "that's a capital idea!" cried the other one, tapping her on the shoulder. "do you know what i would advise you ... we might have some fun together if you would like?"
"what is it?" asked malva, interested.
"have you warmed up jakoff well?"
"he bums like a clear fire," she said delighted.
"is it possible? set him on to his father. wouldn't it be a queer sight?... they would go for each other like two bears ... warm the old fellow up a little, and this other one still more ... and then we will set them on each other." malva looked hard into his freckled face, as he smiled gaily. lighted up by the moon it seemed less ugly than by daylight it expressed neither hatred nor anything but good humour and vivacity, in the expectation of a reply.
"why do you hate them?" malva asked suspiciously.
"i? vassili is a good sort of fellow for a peasant. but jakoff is not worth anything. generally speaking, you see, i don't like peasants; they are all knaves. they know how to pretend to be unfortunate, get bread and everything given to them. and all the time they have a municipality which looks after them. they have land and cattle. i was coachman to a municipal doctor—and i saw something of those peasants then! then for a long time i was a tramp. when i got to a village and asked for bread—'oh! oh! who are you? what are you doing? show your passport!...' i was beaten more than once; sometimes they took me for a horse-thief; sometimes without any reason they put me in prison.... they groan and pretend that they can't live, although they have land of their own. and i, what could i do against them?"
"are you not a peasant?"
"i am citizen," replied sereja with pride. "a citizen of the town of ouglitch."
"and i of pavlitcha," said malva dreamily.
"i have no one to protect me. but those devils of peasants, they can live well. they have a municipality and everything."
"what is a municipality?" asked malva.
"a municipality? devil take me if i know!... it's something made for peasants; it's their council.... don't let's talk any more of that. let's talk of our own business. will you arrange this matter, tell me? no harm will come of it. they will just knock each other about a little.... i will help you.... vassili beat you, did he?... then let his son give you back the blows that you have received."
"why not?" said malva, smiling. "it wouldn't be a bad thing."
"just think a little, isn't it amusing to see how people knock each other about because of you? you just wag your tongue once or twice, and it's done."
sereja for some time went on exposing to her in a flattering light, and with much enthusiasm the charms of the part which he proposed she should play. he was both joking and serious, and was himself carried away.
"ah! if only i were a beautiful woman! how i would turn the world topsy-turvy!" he cried at the end of their talk.
then he took his head into his hands, pressed it, closed his eyes and was silent.
the moon was high when they separated after they had left, the beauty of the night intensified. there remained but the boundless, marvellous sea, flecked by the silver of the moon; and the star-sown sky. the little sand-hills, the bushy willows, and the two long rows of huts like two enormous coffins, appeared quite insignificant in the face of the sea, and of the stars, which twinkled coldly as they contemplated it.
