Chapter 13
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 incong
