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.
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