And the deserted sea laughed, playing with the reflections
of the sun, and legions of waves were born to run on the sand, deposit
the foam of their crests and return to the sea, where they melted.
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; to-day 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.
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