"As she didn't come Sunday, you should ask what she was doing. I know you are jealous, you old dog!"
"Oh, there are many like her," said Vassili, carelessly.
"Are there?" said Serejka, imitating him. "Ah, you peasants, you're all alike. As long as you gather your honey, it's all one to you."
"What's she to you?" broke in Vassili with irritation. "Have you come to ask her hand in marriage?"
"I know she's yours," said Serejka. "Have I ever bothered you? But now
Iakov, your son, is all the time dancing around her, it's different.
Beat him, do you hear? If not, I will. You've got a strong fist if you
are a fool."
Vassili did not reply, but watched the boat as it turned about and made toward the beach again.
"You are right," he said finally. "Iakov will hear from me."
"I don't like him. He smells too much of the village," said Serejka.
In the distance, on the sea, was opening out the pink fan formed by the rays of the rising sun. The glowing orb was already emerging from the water. Amid the noise of the waves was heard from the boat the distant cry:
"Draw in!"