TCHELKACHE
"Pardon me, brother!" again repeated Gavrilo.
"It's nothing!" drily replied Tchelkache, as he supported his head with his left hand and gently pulled his moustache with his right.
Gavrilo stood gazing after him until he had disappeared in the rain that still fell in fine, close drops, enveloping the steppe in a mist as impenetrable and gray as steel.
Then Gavrilo took off his wet cap, made the sign of the cross, looked at the money pressed tightly in his hand and drew a long, deep sigh; he concealed his booty in his blouse and began to walk, taking long strides, in the opposite direction to that in which Tchelkache had gone.
The sea thundered, threw great heavy waves upon the sand and broke them into foam and spray. The rain
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