dreamily looking out on the turquoise blue water, and the white haze of
morning, and the small, fair shadows of ships slowly realizing before
him. In the bay were two battleships, uncouth monsters, lying as naive
and curious as sea-lions strayed afar.

Siegmund was gazing oversea in a half-stupid way, when he heard a voice
beside him say:

'Where have they come from; do you know, sir?'

He turned, saw a fair, slender man of some thirty-five years standing
beside him and smiling faintly at the battleships.

'The men-of-war? There are a good many at Spithead,' said Siegmund.

The other glanced negligently into his face.

'They look rather incongruous, don't you think? We left the sea empty
and shining, and when we come again, behold, these objects keeping their
eye on us!'

Siegmund laughed.

'You are not an Anarchist, I hope?' he said jestingly.

'A Nihilist, perhaps,' laughed the other. 'But I am quite fond of the
Czar, if pity is akin to love. No; but you can't turn round without
finding some policeman or other at your elbow--look at them, abominable
ironmongery!--ready to put his hand on your shoulder.'