He now
looked upon him as an obstacle in his road that he could neither remove
nor get around.
But feeling himself of equal strength as his adversary, Iakov regarded
his father boldly, with a look that meant: "Touch me if you dare!"
They had both drunk two glasses without exchanging a word, except a few
commonplace remarks about the fisheries. Alone amidst the deserted
waters each nursed his hatred, and both knew that this hate would soon
burst forth into flame.
"How's Serejka?" at last Vassili blurted out.
"Drunk as usual," replied Iakov, pouring our some more brandy for his
father.
"He'll end badly--and if you don't take care you'll do the same."
"I shall never become like him," replied Iakov, surlily.
"No?" said Vassili, frowning. "I know what I'm talking about. How long
are you here already? Two months. You must soon think of going back.
How much money have you saved?"
"In so little time I've not been able to save any," replied Iakov.
"Then you don't want to stay here any longer, my lad, go back to the
village."
Iakov smiled.
"Why these grimaces?" cried Vassili threateningly, and impatient at his
son's coolness.
Pages:
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137