And he spat with disdain in the direction of the water.
The sea laughed.
"If, at least, Serejka would come," he thought. And he tried to think only of Serejka. "What a good-for-nothing the fellow is! Robust, able to read, seen the world—but what a drunkard! Yet good company. One can't feel dull in his company. The women are mad for him; all run after him. Malva's the only one that keeps aloof. No, no sign of her! What a cursed woman! Perhaps she's angry because I beat her."
Thus, thinking of his son, of Serejka, but more often of Malva, Vassili paced up and down the sandy beach, turning every now and then to look anxiously out to sea. But Malva did not come.
This is what had happened.
Iakov rose early, and on going down to the beach as usual to wash himself, he saw Malva. She was seated on the bow of a large fishing boat anchored in the surf and letting her bare feet hang, sat combing her damp hair.
Iakov stopped to watch her.
"Have you had a bath?" he cried.
She turned to look at him, and glanced down at her feet: then, continuing to comb herself, she replied:
"Yes, I took a bath. Why are you up so early?"