"Hey! Youngster, get up!" said he touching Gavrilo with his foot.
The last named started up, and not recognizing him just at first, gazed
at him vacantly. Tchelkache burst out laughing.
"How you're gotten up! . . ." finally exclaimed Gavrilo, smiling
broadly. "You are a gentleman!"
"We do that quickly here! What a coward you are! Dear, dear! How
many times did you make up your mind to die last night, eh? Say. . ."
"But you see, it's the first time I've ever done anything like this!
One might lose his soul for the rest of his days!"
"Would you be willing to go again?"
"Again? I must know first what there would be in it for me."
"Two hundred."
"Two hundred, you say? Yes I'd go."
"Stop! . . . And your soul?"
"Perhaps I shouldn't lose it!" said Gavrilo, smiling. "And then one
would be a man for the rest of his days!"
Tchelkache burst out laughing. "That's right, but we've joked long
enough! Let us row to the shore. Get ready."
"I? Why I'm ready. . ."
They again took their places in the boat. Tchelkache at the helm,
Gavrilo rowing.
The gray sky was covered with clouds; the troubled, green sea, played
with their craft, tossing it on its still tiny waves that broke over it
in a shower of clear, salt drops.
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