Vassili threw the oar after his son, but did not succeed in hitting him. Having exhausted his strength he let himself fall at the side of the boat, and tore the wood with his nails, whilst his son called out to him in the distance—
"What, arn't you ashamed of yourself? You are getting old, and you put yourself into this state for a woman!... I'm not going back to the village.... I've had enough of it ... Go back yourself! ... You've nothing to do here!"
"Jakoff, hold your tongue!" shouted Vassili; and his voice rose above that of Jakoff's. "I shall kill you.... Get away with you!"
But Jakoff was walking away now, and laughing. Vassili watched him with furious eyes. Now he was getting smaller; his legs seemed to be hidden in the sand ... half his body had disappeared ... now his shoulders ... and now his head.... He was no longer to be seen. But some minutes afterwards, at a few paces from the spot where he had disappeared, his head showed once more, then his shoulders, then all his body.... He looked quite small. He was turning round and saying some-thing—
"Curse you!... Curse you!" cried Vassili.
The son made a gesture with his hand, and continued to walk away till he was hidden by a sandhill.
Vassili looked out in that same direction for a long time, till his back hurt him from sitting in such an uncomfortable attitude—half crouched down against the boat, the palms of his hands resting on the sand. Cramped and aching all over, he rose and staggered, for his limbs pained him. His belt had got pushed up under his arms, he unfastened it with his stiff fingers, looked at it and threw it on the sand. Then he went towards his hut, but stopped as he reached a hollow in the ground, remembering that it was there that he had fallen, and that if it had not been for that he might have caught his son.
In the hut everything was in disorder. Vassili looked round for the bottle of vodka, and finding it among the sacks, he picked it up, with difficulty withdrew the cork, and placing the neck of the bottle in his mouth he tried to drink.... But the bottle knocked against his teeth, and the liquid ran out over his beard and his chest The alcohol tasted as flat as water. Everything seemed to turn round in Vassili's head; his heart felt heavy, his back hurt him.
"I am old.... That's what's the matter!" he said out loud. And he threw himself on the sand at the door of the hut. Before him lay the vast sea, sighing idly, full of strength and of beauty. The waves were laughing as they always did noisily and light-heartedly. Vassili contemplated the water for a long time, and recalled the covetous words of his son—
"If only that were all land, rich black land that could be ploughed!" An acute feeling of weariness invaded the peasant's soul. He rubbed his chest hard, and sighed deeply. His head fell forward, and his back bent as if an immense weight were crushing him. A spasm seemed to seize his throat He coughed and made the sign of the cross, looking up to the sky. Some terrible thought seemed to overwhelm him.