mmerce of the Mediterranean in detail. You will say that's
an uninteresting, special subject, but that's just what we need,
specialists; we have philosophised enough, now we need the practical,
the practical. But you are very unwell, Nikanor Vassilyevitch, I am
tiring you, perhaps, but still I must stay a little longer.'

And for a long time Lupoyarov still babbled on in the same way, and, as
he went away, he promised to come again.

Worn out by the unexpected visit, Insarov lay down on the sofa.
'So this,' he said, mournfully looking at Elena, 'is your younger
generation! There are plenty who show off, and give themselves airs,
while at heart they are as empty chatterboxes as that worthy.'

Elena made no reply to her husband; at that instant she was far more
concerned at Insarov's weakness than at the character of the whole
younger generation in Russia. She sat down near him, and took up some
work. He closed his eyes, and lay without moving, white and thin. Elena
glanced at his sharp profile, at his emaciated hands, and felt a sudden
pang of terror.

'Dmitri,' she began.

He started. 'Eh? Has Renditch come?'

'Not yet--but what do you think--you are in a fever, you are really not
quite well, shouldn't we send for a doctor?'

'That wretched gossip has frightened you. There's no necessity. I
will rest a little, and it will pass off. After dinner we will go out
again--somewhere.'

Two hours passed. Insarov still lay on the sofa, but he could not sleep,
though he did not open his eyes. Elena did not leave his side; she had
dropped her work upon her knee, and did not stir.

'Why don't you go to sleep?' she asked at last.

'Wait a little.' He took her hand, and placed it under his head.
'There--that is nice. Wake me at once directly Renditch comes. If
he says the ship is ready, we will start at once. We ought to pack
everything.'

'Packing won't take long,' answered Elena.

'That fellow babbled something about a battle, about Servia,' said
Insarov, after a short interval. 'I suppose he made it all up. But we
must, we must start. We can't lose time. Be ready.'

He fell asleep, and everything was still in the room.

Elena let her head rest against the back of her chair, and gazed a long
while out of the window. The weather had changed for the worse; the wind
had risen. Great white clouds were scudding over the sky, a slender mast
was swaying in the distance, a long streamer, with a red cross on it,
kept flutt