She slowly wiped her lips with her sleeve, threw her two white arms
round his neck and kissed him three times on the lips and cheeks.
He was overcome with emotion and uttered some indistinct words. Iakov
lowered his head, dissimulating a smile. Serejka was impassible, and he
even yawned a little, at the same time gazing at the sky.
"You'll find it hot walking," he said.
"No matter. Goodbye, you too, Iakov."
"Goodbye!"
They stood facing each other, not knowing what to do. The sad word
"goodbye" aroused in Iakov a feeling of tenderness for his father, but
he did not know how to express it. Should he embrace his father as
Malva had done or shake his hand like Serejka? And Vassili felt hurt at
this hesitation, which was visible in his son's attitude.
"Remember your mother," said Vassili, finally.
"Yes, yes," replied Iakov, cordially. "Don't worry. I know."
"That's all. Be happy. God protect you. Don't think badly of me. The
kettle, Serejka, is buried in the sand near the bow of the green boat."
"What does he want with the kettle?" asked Iakov.
"He has taken my place yonder on the headland," explained Vassili.
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