"Take them! take them! You didn't do your job for nothing, I suppose.
Take it, don't be frightened! Don't be ashamed of having nearly
killed a man! For people like me, no one will make much inquiry.
They'll say thank you, indeed, when they know of it. There, take it!
No one will ever know what you've done, and it deserves a reward.
Come, now!"
Gavrilo saw that Chelkash was laughing, and he felt relieved.
He crushed the notes up tight in his hand.
"Brother! You forgive me? Won't you? Eh?" he asked tearfully.
"Brother of mine!" Chelkash mimicked him as he got, reeling, on to his legs. "What for? There's nothing to forgive. To-day you do for me, to-morrow I'll do for you."
"Oh, brother, brother!" Gavrilo sighed mournfully, shaking his head.
Chelkash stood facing him, he smiled strangely, and the rag on his head, growing gradually redder, began to look like a Turkish fez.
The rain streamed in bucketsful. The sea moaned with a hollow sound, and the waves beat on the shore, lashing furiously and wrathfully against it.
The two men were silent.
"Come, good-bye!" Chelkash said, coldly and sarcastically.
He reeled, his legs shook, and he held his head queerly, as though he were afraid of losing it.