Far off, before the prow of the
boat, appeared the yellow line of the sandy beach; back of the stern
was the free and joyous sea, all furrowed by the troops of waves that
ran up and down, already decked in their superb fringe of foam. In the
far distance, ships were rocking on the bosom of the sea and, on the
left, was a whole forest of masts mingled with the white masses of the
houses of the town. Prom there, a dull murmur is borne out to sea and
blending with the sound of the waves swelled into rapturous music.
Over all stretched a thin veil of mist, widening the distance between
the different objects.
"Eh! It'll be rough to-night!" said Tchelkache, nodding his head in
the direction of the sea.
"A storm?" asked Gavrilo. He was rowing hard. He was drenched from
head to foot by the drops blown by the wind.
"Ehe!" affirmed Tchelkache.
Gavrilo looked at him curiously.
"How much did they give you?" he asked at last, seeing that Tchelkache
was not disposed to talk.
"See!" said Tchelkache. He held out toward Gavrilo something that he
drew from his pocket.
Gavrilo saw the variegated banknotes, and they assumed in his eyes all
the colors of the rainbow.
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