He was puzzled. While he rolled a cigarette he examined the neck and
back of the rower who was rapidly drawing nearer. The sound of the
water when the oars struck it resounded in the still air, and the sand
crunched under the watchman's bare feet as he stamped about in his
impatience.
"Who's with you?" he cried, when he could discern the familiar smile on
Malva's pretty plump face.
"Wait. You'll know him all right," she replied laughing.
The rower turned on his seat and, also laughing, looked at Vassili.
The watchman frowned. It seemed to him that he knew the fellow.
"Pull harder!" commanded Malva.
The stroke was so vigorous that the boat was carried up the beach on a
wave, fell over on one side and then righted itself while the wave
rolled back laughing into the sea. The rower jumped out on the beach,
and going up to Vassili said:
"How are you, father?"
"Iakov!" cried Vassili, more surprised than pleased.
They embraced three times. Afterwards Vassili's stupor became mingled
with both joy and uneasiness. The watchman stroked his blond beard with
one hand and with the other gesticulated:
"I knew something was up; my heart told me so.
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