When she had accompanied him to the end of the village, she had leant against a gate, speaking quickly, and blinking her dry eyes.
"Tell him, Jakoff, tell him in the name of Christ. 'Father, my mother is alone over there! She is growing old.... Five years have gone by and she is still alone!' Tell him, my little Jakoff, for the love of God! 'My mother will soon be an old woman, alone, always alone, always at work.' In the name of Christ, tell him this." And she had cried quietly, hiding her face in her apron.
Jakoff had not pitied her then, but now he pitied her.... And he glanced at Malva with a hard expression, as if he were going to address her in a tone of coarse abuse.
"Well, here I am!" exclaimed Vassili, appearing with a quivering fish in one hand and a knife in the other.
He had conquered his embarrassment, hiding it deep down within himself. He was able now to look at his guests with serenity and good-humour, though his movements were more abrupt than usual "I am just going to make a fire ... and then I'll be back.... We will talk then. Well, Jakoff! What a fine lad you have grown!" And he disappeared once more.
Malva continued to nibble the grains. She watched Jakoff with an air of familiarity; and he tried not to catch her eye although he longed to do so; and he thought to himself—
"Life must be fine out here; one can eat to one's heart's content. How fat she is, and so is my father!" Then as the silence made him feel nervous, he remarked out loud—"I forgot to get my bag out of the boat.... I'll just go and fetch it."
Jakoff rose slowly and went out. Then Vassili appeared; he bent towards Malva, and said rapidly in an angry voice—
"What did you want to come with him for?... What am I to tell him about you?... What are you to me?"
"I have come, and that's all!" answered Malva.