"Yesterday he did not speak of this project," said the Dane.
The Russian seemed to be looking at the sea, a little of which was visible from where they stood. The lady bit her lips to avoid laughing, fanned herself negligently, and said:--
"I really do not know what has taken him. He was perhaps frightened by his compatriots. It is for you, messieurs, to clear this mystery."
"What country is this Galicia? The youth assured me that he was neither Polish nor Austrian, but a Galician."
Ivas and Jacob exchanged a smile, without replying.
"We will not wear mourning for him!" cried Ivas.
"I regret him, however," replied Lucie. "He would have become a very agreeable man, but as yet he resembles those Italian nuts shut up in a bitter shell."
They all laughed.
"Aqua Sola! How sweet the words sound!" continued she, walking at the head of the procession. "But how little it is, shabby, and even tiresome. What trees, what drops of water, a disagreeable crowd, plenty of dust, and only in the distance a glimpse of the sea! Povera Geneva!"
"And yet," observed the Muscovite, "what marvels were promised us."