nearer my country. It is there, you know,' he added, stretching out
his hand to the East, 'the wind blows from there.'

'Will not this wind bring the ship you are expecting?' said Elena.
'See, there is a white sail, is not that it?'

Insarov gazed seaward into the distance to where Elena was pointing.

'Renditch promised to arrange everything for us within a week,' he
said, 'we can rely on him, I think. . . . Did you hear, Elena,' he
added with sudden animation, 'they say the poor Dalmatian fishermen
have sacrificed their dredging weights--you know the leads they weigh
their nets with for letting them down to the bottom--to make bullets!
They have no money, they only just live by fishing; but they have
joyfully given up their last property, and now are starving. What a
nation!'

'_Aufgepasst_!' shouted a haughty voice behind them. The heavy thud of
horse's hoofs was heard, and an Austrian officer in a short grey tunic
and a green cap galloped past them--they had scarcely time to get out
of the way.

Insarov looked darkly after him.

'He was not to blame,' said Elena, 'you know, they have no other place
where they can ride.'

'He was not to blame,' answered Insarov 'but he made my blood boil
with his shout, his moustaches, his cap, his whole appearance. Let us
go back.'