"
"So, you've decided!" said Serejka to Vassili. "It's goodbye to us all?
Well, go your way and scratch the soil."
A thrill went through Iakov and he made a joyous grimace.
"Yes, I'm going;" said Vassili.
Then Iakov advanced boldly.
"Good-day, all!"
The father gave him a rapid glance and then turned away his eyes. Malva
did not stir. Serejka moved his leg and raising his voice said:
"Here's our dearly beloved son, Iakov, back from a distant shore."
Then he added in his ordinary voice:
"You should flay him alive and make drums with his skin."
Malva laughed.
"It's hot," said Iakov, sitting beside them.
"I've been waiting for you since this morning, Iakov. The inspector
told me you were coming."
The young man thought his voice seemed weaker than usual and his face
seemed changed. He asked Serejka for a cigarette.
"I have no tobacco for an imbecile like you," replied the latter,
without stirring.
"I'm going back home, Iakov," said Vassili, gravely digging into the
sand with his fingers.
"Why," asked the son, innocently.
"Never mind why, shall you stay?"
"Yes. I'll remain. What should we both do at home?"
"Very well.
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