A few steps more and they were on the bank of a wide stream that came down slowly through the plain to the sea. Just inland from the beach it was fringed with pine trees; beyond the trees one could see the plain, and beyond the plain were the mountains. In this calm light after the storm everything looked strange. The colours seemed deeper and more intense than at ordinary times. And though all was so clear, there was a mysterious air of remoteness about the whole scene. There was no sound except the continuous breathing of the sea. They stood for a little while, looking; then turned back. Far away along the beach two figures were slowly approaching. White flannel trousers, a pink skirt. "Nature," Mr. Topes enunciated, with a shake of the head. "One always comes back to nature. At a moment such as this, in surroundings like these, one realises it. One lives now--more quietly, perhaps, but more profoundly. Deep watery. Deep waters...." The figures drew closer. Wasn't it the marquis? And who was with him? Barbara strained her eyes to see. "Most of one's life," Mr. Topes went on, "is one prolonged effort to prevent oneself thinking. Your father and I, we collect pictures and read about the dead. Other people achieve the same results by drinking, or breeding rabbits, or doing amateur carpentry. Anything rather than think calmly about the important things." Mr. Topes was silent. He looked about him, at the sea, at the mountains, at the great clouds, at his companion. A frail Montagna madonna, with the sea and the westering sun, the mountains and the storm, all eternity as a background. And he was sixty, with all a life, immensely long and yet timelessly short, behind him, an empty life. He thought of death and the miracles of beauty; behind his round, glittering spectacles he felt inclined to weep. The approaching couple were quite near now. "What a funny old walrus," said the lady. "Walrus? Your natural history is quite wrong." The marquis laughed. "He's much too dry to be a walrus. I should suggest some sort of an old cat." "Well, whatever he is, I'm sorry for that poor little girl. Think of having nobody better to go about with!" "Pretty, isn't she?" "Yes, but too young, of course." "I like the innocence." "Innocence? Cher ami! These English girls. Oh, la la! They may look innocent But, believe me...." "Sh, sh. They'll hear you." "Pooh, they don't understand Italian." The marquis raised his hand. "The old walrus...." he whispered; then addressed himself loudly and jovially to the newcomers. "Good evening, signorina. Good evening, Mr. Topes. After a storm the air is always the purest, don't you find, eh?"