The Maxim Gorky

by Maxim Gorky

  All was as before. Only Vassili, who the last time awaited her coming with peaceful security, was now filled with impatience. Last Sunday she had not come; today she would surely come. He did not doubt it for a moment, but he wanted to see her as soon as possible. Iakov, at least, would not be there to embarrass them. The day before yesterday, as he passed with the other fishermen, he said he would go to town on Sunday to buy a blouse. He had found work at fifteen roubles a month.

  Except for the gulls, the sea was still deserted. The familiar little black spot did not appear,

  “Ah, you’re not coming!” said Vassili, with ill humor. “All right, don’t. I don’t want you.”

  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?”

  “Aren’t you up early?”

  “I am not an example for you. If you did all I do, you’d be in all kinds of trouble.”

  “Why do you always wish to frighten me?” he asked.

  “And you, why do you make eyes at me?”

  Iakov had no recollection of having looked at her more than at the other women on the fishing grounds, but now he said to her suddenly:

  “Because you are so—appetizing.”

  “If your father heard you, he’d give you an appetite! No, my lad, don’t run after me, because I don’t want to be between you and Vassili. You understand?”

  “What have I done?” asked Iakov. “I haven’t touched you.”

  “You daren’t touch me,” retorted Malva.

  There was such a contemptuous tone in her voice that he resented this.

  “So I dare not?” he replied, climbing up on the boat and seating himself at her side.

  “No, you dare not.”

  “And if I touch you?”

  “Try!”

  “What would you do?”

  “I’d give you such a box on the ear that you would fall into the water.”

  “Let’s see you do it”

  “Touch me if you dare!”

  Throwing his arm around her waist, he pressed her to his breast.

  “Here I am. Now box my ears.”

  “Let me be, Iakov,” she said, quickly, trying to disengage herself from his arms which trembled.

  “Where is the punishment you promised me?”

  “Let go or take care!”

  “Oh, stop your threats—luscious strawberry that you are!”

  He drew her to him and pressed his thick lips into her sunburnt cheek.

  She gave a wild laugh of defiance, seized Iakov’s arms and suddenly, with a quick movement of her whole body threw herself forward. They fell into the water enlaced, forming a single heavy mass, and disappeared under the splashing foam. Then from beneath the agitated water Iakov appeared, looking half drowned. Malva, at his side swimming like a fish, eluded his grasp, and tried to prevent him regaining the boat. Iakov struggled desperately, striking the water and roaring like a walrus, while Malva, screaming with laughter, swam round and round him, throwing the salt water in his face, and then diving to avoid his vigorous blows.

  At last he caught her and pulled her under the water, and the waves passed over both their heads. Then they came to the surface again both panting with the exertion. Thus they played like two big fish until, finally, tired out and full of salt water, they climbed up the beach and sat down in the sun to dry.

  Malva laughed and twisted her hair to get the water out.

  The day was growing. The fishermen, after their night of heavy slumber, were emerging from their huts, one by one. From the distance all looked alike. One began to strike blows on an empty barrel at regular intervals. Two women were heard quarrelling. Dogs barked.

  “They are getting up,” said Iakov. “And I wanted to start to town early. I’ve lost time with you.”

  “One does nothing good in my company,” she said, half in jest, half seriously.

  “What a habit you have of scaring people,” replied Iakov.

  “You’ll see when your father—.”

  This allusion to his father angered him.

  “What about my father? I’m not a boy. And I’m not blind, either. He’s not a saint, either; he deprives himself of nothing. If you don’t mind I’ll steal you from my father.”

  “You?”

  “Do you think I wouldn’t dare?”

  “Really?”

  “Now, look you,” he began furiously, “don’t defy me. I—.”

  “What now?” she asked with indifference.

  “Nothing.”

  He turned away with a determined look on his face.

  “How brave you are,” she said, tauntingly. “You remind me of the inspector’s little dog. At a distance he barks and threatens to bite, but when you get near him he puts his tail between his legs and runs away.”

  “All right,” cried Iakov, angrily. “Wait! you’ll see what I am.”

  Advancing towards them came a sunburnt, tattered and muscular-looking individual. He wore a ragged red shirt, his trousers were full of holes, and his feet were bare. His face was covered with freckles and he had big saucy blue eyes and an impertinent turned-up nose. When he came up he stopped and made a grimace.

  “Serejka drank yesterday, and today Serejka’s pocket is empty. Lend me twenty kopeks. I’ll not return them.”

  Iakov burst out laughing; Malva smiled.

  “Give me the money,” went on the tramp. “I’ll marry you for twenty kopeks if you like.”

  “You’re an odd fellow,” said Iakov, “are you a priest?”

  “Imbecile question,” replied Serejka. “Wasn’t I servant to a priest at Ouglitch?”

  “I don’t want to get married,” said Iakov.

  “Give the money all the same, and I won’t tell your father you’re paying court to his queen,” replied Serejka, passing his tongue over his dry and cracked lips.

  Iakov did not want to give twenty kopeks, but they had warned him to be on his guard when dealing with Serejka, and to put up with his whims. The tramp never demanded much, but if he was refused he spread evil tales about you or else he would beat you. So Iakov, sighing, put his hand in his pocket.

  “That’s right,” said Serejka, with a tone of encouragement, and he sat down beside them on the sand. “Always do what I tell you and you’ll be happy. And you,” he went on, turning to Malva—”when are you going to marry me? Better be quick. I don’t like to wait long.”

  “You are too ragged. Begin by sewing up your holes and then we’ll see,” replied Malva.

  Serejka regarded his rents with a reproachful air and shook his head.

  “Give me one of your skirts, that’ll be better.”

  “Yes, I can,” said Malva, laughing.


  “I’m serious. You must have an old one you don’t want.”

  “You’d do better to buy yourself a pair of trousers.”

  “I prefer to drink the money.”

  Serejka rose and, jingling his twenty kopeks, shuffled off, followed by a strange smile from Malva.

  When he was some distance away, Iakov said:

  “In our village such a braggart would goon have been put in his place. Here, every one seems afraid of him.”

  Malva looked at Iakov and replied, disdainfully:

  “You don’t know his worth.”

  “There’s nothing to know. He’s worth five kopeks a hundred.”

  She did not reply, but watched the play of the waves as they chased one after the other, swaying the fishing boat. The mast inclined now to right, now to left, and the bow rose and then fell suddenly, striking the water with a loud splash.

  “Why don’t you go?” asked Malva.

  “Where?” he asked.

  “You wanted to go to town.”

  “I shan’t go now.”

  “Well, go to your father’s.”

  “And you?”

  “What?”

  “Shall you go, too?”

  “No.”

  “Then I shan’t either.”

  “Are you going to stay round me all day?”

  “I don’t want your company so much as that,” replied Iakov, offended.

  He rose and moved away. But he was mistaken in saying that he did not need her, for when away from her he felt lonely. A strange feeling had come to him after their conversation, a secret desire to protest against the father. Only yesterday this feeling had not existed, nor even today, before he saw Malva. Now it seemed to him that his father embarrassed him and stood in his way, although he was far away over the sea yonder, on a narrow tongue of sand almost invisible to the eye. Then it seemed to him, too, that Malva was afraid of the father; if she were not afraid she would talk differently. Now she was missing in his life while only that morning he had not thought of her.

  And so he wandered for several hours along the beach, stopping here and there to chat with fishermen he knew. At noon he took a siesta under the shade of an upturned boat. When he awoke he took another stroll and came across Malva far from the fishing ground, reading a tattered book under the shade of the willows.

  She looked up at Iakov and smiled.

  “Ah, there you are,” he said, sitting down beside her.

  “Have you been looking for me long?” she asked, demurely.

  “Looking for you? What an idea?” replied Iakov, who was only just beginning to realize that it was the truth.

  “Do you know how to read?” she asked.

  “Yes—I used to, but I’ve forgotten everything.”

  “So have I.”

  “Why didn’t you go to the headland today?” asked Iakov, suddenly.

  “What’s that to you?”

  Iakov plucked a leaf and chewed it.

  “Listen,” he said in a low tone and drawing near her. “Listen to what I’m going to say. I’m young and I love you.”

  “You’re a silly lad, very silly,” said Malva, shaking her head.

  “I may be a fool,” cried Iakov, passionately. “But I love you, I love you.”

  “Be silent! Go away!”

  “Why?”

  “Because.”

  “Don’t be obstinate.” He took her gently by the shoulders. “Can’t you understand?”

  “Go away, Iakov,” she cried, severely. “Go away!”

  “Oh, if that’s the tone you take I don’t care a rap. You’re not the only woman here. You imagine that you are better than the others.”

  She made no reply, rose and brushed the dust off her skirt.

  “Come,” she said.

  And they went back to the fishing grounds side by side.

  They walked slowly on account of the soft sand. Suddenly, as they were nearing the boats, Iakov stopped short and seized Malva by the arms.

  “Are you driving me desperate on purpose? Why do you play with me like this?” he demanded.

  “Leave me alone, I tell you,” she said, calmly disengaging herself from his grasp.

  Serejka appeared from behind a boat. He shook his fist at the couple, and said, threateningly:

  “So, that’s how you go off together. Vassili shall know of this.”

  “Go to the devil, all of you!” cried Malva. And she left them, disappearing among the boats.

  Iakov stood facing Serejka, and looked him square in the face. Serejka boldly returned the stare and so they remained for a minute or two, like two rams ready to charge on each other. Then without a word each turned away and went off in a different direction.

  The sea was calm and crimson with the rays of the setting sun. A confused sound hovered over the fishing ground. The voice of a drunken woman sang hysterically words devoid of sense.

  * * * *

  In the dawn’s pure light the sea still slumbered, reflecting the pearl-like clouds. On the headland a party of fishermen still only half awake moved slowly about, getting ready the rigging of their boat.

  Serejka, bareheaded and tattered as usual, stood in the bow hurrying the men on with a hoarse voice, the result of his drunken orgy of the previous night.

  “Where are the oars, Vassili?”

  Vassili, moody as a dark autumn day, was arranging the net at the bottom of the boat. Serejka watched him and, when he looked his way, smacked his lips, signifying that he wanted to drink.

  “Have you any brandy,” he asked.

  “Yes,” growled Vassili.

  “Good. I’ll take a nip when they’ve gone.”

  “Is all ready?” cried the fishermen.

  “Let go!” commanded Serejka, jumping to the ground. “Be careful. Go far out so as not to entangle the net.”

  The big boat slid down the greased planks to the water, and the fishermen, jumping in as it went, seized the oars, ready to strike the water directly she was afloat. Then with a big splash the graceful bark forged ahead through the great plain of luminous water.

  “Why didn’t you come Sunday?” said Vassili, as the two men went back to the cabin.

  “I couldn’t.”

  “You were drunk?”

  “No, I was watching your son and his step-mother,” said Serejka, phlegmatically.

  “A new worry on your shoulders,” said Vassili, sarcastically and with a forced smile. “They are only children.” He was tempted to learn where and how Serejka had seen Malva and Iakov the day before, but he was ashamed.

  “Why don’t you ask news of Malva?” asked Serejka, as he gulped down a glass of brandy.

  “What do I care what she does?” replied Vassili, with indifference, although he trembled with a secret presentiment.

  “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 t
he 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!”

  “Come, boys!” cried Serejka, to the other fishermen on the beach. “Let’s pull together.”

  “When you see Iakov tell him to come here tomorrow,” said Vassili.

  The boat grounded on the beach and the fishermen, jumping out, pulled their end of the net so that the two groups gradually met, the cork floats bobbing up and down on the water forming a perfect semi-circle.

  * * * *

  Very late on the evening of the same day, when the fishermen had finished their dinner, Malva, tired and thoughtful, had seated herself on an old boat turned upside down and was watching the sea, already screened in twilight. In the distance a fire was burning, and Malva knew that Vassili had lighted it. Solitary and as if lost in the darkening shadows, the flame leaped high at times and then fell back as if broken. And Malva felt a certain sadness as she watched that red dot abandoned in the desert of ocean, and palpitating feebly among the indefatigable and incomprehensible murmur of the waves.

  “What are you doing there?” asked Serejka’s voice behind her.

  “What’s that to you?” she replied dryly, without stirring.

  He lighted a cigarette, was silent a moment and then said in a friendly tone:

  “What a funny woman you are! First you run away from everybody, and then you throw yourself round everyone’s neck.”

  “Not round yours,” said Malva, carelessly.

  “Not mine, perhaps, but round Iakov’s.”

  “It makes you envious.”

  “Hum! do you want me to speak frankly?”

  “Speak.”

  “Have yon broken off with Vassili?”

  “I don’t know,” she replied, after a silence. “I am vexed with him.”

  “Why?”

  “He beat me.”

  “Really? And you let him?”

  Serejka could not understand it. He tried to catch a glimpse of Malva’s face, and made an ironical grimace.

  “I need not have let him beat me,” she said. “I did not want to defend myself.”

  “So you love the old grey cat as much as that?” grinned Serejka, puffing out a cloud of smoke. “I thought better of you than that.”