Twenty-six and One and Other Stories

A thrill went through Iakov and he made a joyous grimace.

"Yes, I'm going;" said Vassili.

Then Iakov advanced boldly.

"Good-day, all!"

The father gave him a rapid glance and then turned away his eyes. Malva did not stir. Serejka moved his leg and raising his voice said:

"Here's our dearly beloved son, Iakov, back from a distant shore."

Then he added in his ordinary voice:

"You should flay him alive and make drums with his skin."

Malva laughed.

"It's hot," said Iakov, sitting beside them.

"I've been waiting for you since this morning, Iakov. The inspector told me you were coming."

The young man thought his voice seemed weaker than usual and his face seemed changed. He asked Serejka for a cigarette.

"I have no tobacco for an imbecile like you," replied the latter, without stirring.

"I'm going back home, Iakov," said Vassili, gravely digging into the sand with his fingers.

"Why," asked the son, innocently.

"Never mind why, shall you stay?"

"Yes. I'll remain. What should we both do at home?"

"Very well. I have nothing to say. Do as you please. You are no longer a child. Only remember that I shall not get about long. I shall live, perhaps, but I do not know how long I shall work. I have lost the habit of the soil. Remember, too, that your mother is there."

Evidently it was difficult for him to talk. The words stuck between his teeth. He stroked his beard and his hand trembled.

Malva eyed him. Serejka had half closed one eye and with the other watched Iakov. Iakov was jubilant, but afraid of betraying himself; he was silent and lowered his head.

"Don't forget your mother, Iakov. Remember, you are all she has."

"I know," said Iakov, shrugging his shoulders.

"It is well if you know," said the father, with a look of distrust. "I only warn you not to forget it."

Vassili sighed deeply. For a few minutes all were silent.

Then Malva said:

"The work bell will soon ring."

"I'm going," said Vassili, rising.

And all rose.

"Goodbye, Serejka. If you happen to be on the Volga, maybe you'll drop in to see me."

"I'll not fail," said Serejka.

"Goodbye."

"Goodbye, dear friend."

"Goodbye, Malva," said Vassili, not raising his eyes.

She slowly wiped her lips with her sleeve, threw her two white arms round his neck and kissed him three times on the lips and cheeks.

He was overcome with emotion and uttered some indistinct words. Iakov lowered his head, dissimulating a smile. Serejka was impassible, and he even yawned a little, at the same time gazing at the sky.

"You'll find it hot walking," he said.

"No matter. Goodbye, you too, Iakov."

"Goodbye!"

They stood facing each other, not knowing what to do. The sad word "goodbye" aroused in Iakov a feeling of tenderness for his father, but he did not know how to express it. Should he embrace his father as Malva had done or shake his hand like Serejka? And Vassili felt hurt at this hesitation, which was visible in his son's attitude.

"Remember your mother," said Vassili, finally.

"Yes, yes," replied Iakov, cordially. "Don't worry. I know."

"That's all. Be happy. God protect you. Don't think badly of me. The kettle, Serejka, is buried in the sand near the bow of the green boat."

"What does he want with the kettle?" asked Iakov.

"He has taken my place yonder on the headland," explained Vassili.

Iakov looked enviously at Serejka, then at Malva.

"Farewell, all! I'm going."

Vassili waved his hand to them and moved away. Malva followed him.

"I'll accompany you a bit of the road."

Serejka sat down on the ground and seized the leg of Iakov, who was preparing to accompany Malva.

"Stop! where are you going?"