"Many indeed!" said Sereja, imitating him. "Ah! you brutal peasants! Whether you get honey or tar it's all the same to you!"
"What do you want to praise her up for? Have you come to offer her to me in marriage? But I married her long ago on my own account!" said Vassili.
Sereja looked at him, was silent a moment, and then placing his hand on Vassili's shoulder began speaking to him seriously.
"I know that ... I know very well what she is with you. I did not get in your way.... I neither tried to get her nor wanted her. But now this Jakoff, your son, is hanging round her all day; beat him till you make the blood come; do you hear me? If not, it's I who will do the beating.... You are a strong fellow, although you are a regular fool.... But just remember this, I never got in your way."
"That's what's the matter then! It's you now who are in love with her?" Vassili questioned, in a thick voice.
"Get along with you; if I were sure of myself I would have kicked you all out of the way long ago! But what could I want with her?"
"Then why are you meddling?"
Sereja opened his eyes wide and laughed.
"Why am I meddling?... The devil only knows.... She's a woman, and a spicy one. She pleases me. Or, perhaps, I pity her...."
Vassili felt uncomfortable. He realized by the frank laughter of Sereja that the lad was sincere, and that he was not himself running after Malva. But he said—