"Yes, Jakoff", that's the way a peasant ought to speak. "That's the way a peasant should think. The peasant's only strength is in the land; as long as he has land he can live; but if he tears himself away from the land it's all up with him. The peasant without land is like a tree without roots; one can use it for all sorts of purposes, but it has no life ... it is rotting. And it no longer possesses the beauty of the woods; it is hewn and cut about; it has quite a different look. Yes, Jakoff, you spoke then some true words."
And the sea, receiving into its bosom the sun, welcomed it with the musical ripple of waves all tinted with the glory of sunset hues.
"It seems to me that my soul melts as I watch the sun setting.... That's the effect it has on me!" said Vassili to Malva.
She was silent Jakoff's blue eyes were searching the distance, far out over the sea. For some time the three watched pensively the last minutes of the day fading away. The embers died down under the iron pot Already night stretched its shadows across the sky. The yellow sands grew dark, the gulls had disappeared. All seemed peaceful, dreamy and charming. Even the indefatigable waves running up over the sand seemed quieter and less joyful than during the day.
"Why am I still here?" said Malva. "I must be going."
Vassili became restless; he watched his son.
"Why are you in such a hurry?" he asked in a vexed voice. "Wait a few minutes longer; the moon will soon be up...."
"What do I want with the moon? I'm not frightened.... It won't be the first time I have left here at night."
Jakoff looked at his father, and in order to hide the mockery in his eyes, he closed them; then he glanced at Malva; she also was watching him, and it made him feel uncomfortable.
"All right, be off with you!" said the old man in a cross voice.