Old Izergil and other stories / Старуха Изергиль и другие рассказы. Книга для чтения на английском языке

“But it looks as if there was nothing for it but to be his son-in-law. I thought I’d bring back a couple of hundred roubles from the Kuban. That would be the thing! Then I’d be a gentleman! But I didn’t earn a damn thing. Nothing for it but to be a farm-hand. I’ll never have a farm of my own. So there you are.”

The boy squirmed and his face fell at the prospect of being this man’s son-in-law.

“Where you bound now?” asked Chelkash.

“Home. Where else?”

“How do I know? Maybe you’re bound for Turkey.

”

“Turkey?” marvelled the boy. “What honest Christian would ever go to Turkey? A fine thing to say!”

“You are a blockhead,” murmured Chelkash, turning away again. Yet this wholesome village lad had stirred something in him; a vague feeling of dissatisfaction was slowly taking form within him, and this kept him from concentrating his mind on the night’s task.

The boy, offended by Chelkash’s words, muttered to himself and threw sidelong glances at the older man.

His cheeks were puffed up in a droll way, his lips were pouting and his narrowed eyes blinked rapidly. Evidently he had not expected his talk with this bewhiskered ruffian tramp to end so suddenly and so unsatisfactorily.

But the tramp paid no more attention to him. His mind was on something else as he sat there on the curbstone whistling to himself and beating time with a dirty toe.

The boy wanted to get even with him.

“Hey, you fisherman! Do you often go on a bout?” he began, but at that moment the fisherman turned to him impulsively and said:

“Look, baby-face, would you like to help me to do a job tonight? Make up your mind, quick!”

“What sort of job?” asked the boy dubiously.

“�What sort’! Whatever sort I give you. We’re going fishing. You’ll row.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t mind doing that, I’m not afraid of work. Only – what if you get me into trouble? You’re a queer egg; there’s no understanding you.”

Chelkash had a sensation as of heart-burn.

“Don’t go spouting on things you don’t know anything about,” he said with cold animosity. “I’ll give you a good crack over the bean, and then you’ll understand a thing or two.”

He jumped up, his eyes flashing, his left hand pulling at his moustache, his right clenched in a hard and corded fist.

The boy was frightened. He glanced quickly about him and then he, too, jumped up, blinking nervously.