Vassili started in pursuit, his head bent, his arms extended, but his
foot caught in some rope, and he fell all his length on the sand. He
tried to rise, but the fall had taken all the fight out of him and he
sank back on the beach, shaking his fist at Iakov, who remained grinning
at a safe distance. He shouted:
"Be cursed! I curse you forever!"
Bitterness came into Vassili's soul as he realized his own position. He
sighed heavily. His head bent low as if an immense weight had crushed
him. For an abandoned woman he had deserted his wife, with whom he had
lived faithfully for fifteen years, and the Lord had punished him by
this rebellion of his son. His son had mocked him and trampled on his
heart. Yes, he was punished for the past. He made the sign of the
cross and remained seated, blinking his eyes to free them from the tears
that were blinding them.
And the sun went down into the sea, and the crimson twilight faded away
in the sky. A warm wind caressed the face of the weeping peasant. Deep
in his resolutions of repentance he stayed there until he fell asleep
shortly before dawn.
* * * * *
The day following the quarrel, Iakov went off with a party to fish
thirty miles out at sea.
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