In the morning, after bathing, Siegmund leaned upon the seawall in a
kind of reverie. It was late, towards nine o'clock, yet he lounged,
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 naïve
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.' The speaker's grey-blue eyes, always laughing with mockery, glanced from
the battleships and lit on the dark blue eyes of Siegmund. The latter
felt his heart lift in a convulsive movement. This stranger ran so
quickly to a perturbing intimacy.
'I suppose we are in the hands of--God,' something moved Siegmund to
say. The stranger contracted his eyes slightly as he gazed deep at
the speaker.
'Ah!' he drawled curiously. Then his eyes wandered over the wet hair,
the white brow, and the bare throat of Siegmund, after which they
returned again to the eyes of his interlocutor. 'Does the Czar sail this
way?' he asked at last.
'I do not know,' replied Siegmund, who, troubled by the other's
penetrating gaze, had not expected so trivial a question.
'I suppose the newspaper will tell us?' said the man.
Sure to,' said Siegmund.
'You haven't seen it this morning?' 'Not since Saturday.' The swift blue eyes of the man dilated. He looked curiously at Siegmund.
'You are not alone on your holiday?' 'No.' Siegmund did not like this--he gazed over the sea in displeasure.
'I live here--at least for the present--name, Hampson--' 'Why, weren't you one of the first violins at the Savoy fifteen years
back?' asked Siegmund.