Now somebody is walking over the gang-plank of the barges with quick and heavy steps--the gang-plank strikes against the water clangously and angrily.

Foma hears the muffled laughter of the captain and his lowered voice.

Yefim stands by the cabin door and speaks softly, but somewhat reprimandingly, as though instructing.

Foma suddenly felt like crying out: "It is not necessary!" And he arose from the lounge--but at this moment the cabin door was opened, the tall form of a woman appeared on the threshold, and, noiselessly closing the door behind her, she said in a low voice: "Oh dear! How dark it is! Is there a living soul somewhere around here ?" "Yes," answered Foma, softly.
"Well, then, good evening." And the woman moved forward carefully.
"I'll light the lamp," said Foma in a broken voice, and, sinking on the lounge, he curled himself up in the corner.
"It is good enough this way.

When you get used to it you can see everything in the dark as well." "Be seated," said Foma.
"I will." She sat down on the lounge about two steps away from him.