The devil wants to keep it all for himself and expects me to slave for him ... for years! You see what I mean? But if I could earn a hundred or a hundred and fifty rubles, I’d be independent, and I’d say to the father-in-law—you can keep your property! If you give Marfa a share, all well and good. But if you don’t ... thank God she’s not the only girl in the village! I’d be quite free. On my own.... Y-e-s!” The boy heaved a deep sigh and went on to say: “But what can I do now? Nothing. I’ll have to go and slave for a father-in-law. I thought I’d go to the Kuban and earn a couple of hundred rubles, and then everything would be all right. I’d be able to live like a gentleman. But I didn’t make anything. So I’ll have to go as a labourer after all.... I’ll never have my own farm now! Ah, well!”

It was quite evident that the lad was extremely reluctant to go as a son-in-law, for as he finished speaking his face became beclouded with grief and he squirmed as he lay on the ground.

Chelkash asked him:

“Where are you bound for now?”

“Home, of course! Where else?”

“How do I know? You might be bound for Turkey....”

“T-u-rkey!” drawled the boy in astonishment. “What Christians go to Turkey? That’s a nice thing to say!”

“You’re a fool!” said Chelkash, heaving a sigh and turning his head away again. This sturdy peasant lad stirred something in him....

He became conscious of a vague, but steadily growing feeling of vexation gnawing at the pit of his stomach which prevented him from concentrating his mind on the task he had before him that night.

Offended by the snub which had just been administered to him, the boy muttered something under his breath and now and again cast a sidelong glance at the hobo. He pouted his lips, puffed out his cheeks, and far too rapidly blinked his eyes in the most comical fashion. He was obviously disappointed at the conversation with this bewhiskered tramp having been brought to such an abrupt close.

But the tramp paid no more attention to him. He sat on the curbstone engrossed in thought, whistling softly to himself, and beating time with his dirty, bare heel.

The lad wanted to pay him out for the snub.

“Hey, fisherman! Do you often go on the booze?” he began, but the “fisherman” suddenly turned his face towards him and asked:

“Listen, baby! Do you want to do a job of work with me tonight? Tell me quick!”

“What kind of job?” the lad asked suspiciously.

“What do you mean, what kind? Any kind I give you.... We’ll go fishing. You’ll row the boat.”

“Oh, all right. Not so bad. I don’t mind taking a job. But ... I won’t get into trouble with you, will I? You’re a dark one.... There’s no understanding you.”

Chelkash again became conscious of a feeling like heartburn rising in his chest. In a low voice of cold anger he said:

“Then don’t chatter about what you don’t understand.... If you’re not careful I’ll give you a crack over the head that’ll make you understand.”

His eyes flashed. He jumped up from the curbstone, twirled his moustache with the fingers of his left hand and clenched his right hand into a hard brawny fist.

The boy was frightened. He glanced round rapidly, blinked timidly, and also sprang to his feet. The two stood looking each other up and down in silence.

“Well!” asked Chelkash sternly. He was burning and trembling with rage at the insult he had received from this callow youth whom he had despised when talking to him, but whom he now hated because he had such a healthy, tanned face, bright blue eyes and short sturdy arms, and because he lived in a village somewhere, had a home there, and some rich farmer was asking him to be his son-in-law; because of his whole past and present, but most of all because this lad, who was only a baby compared with himself, dared to love freedom, the value of which he did not appreciate, and which he did not need.