In the first great square room at the Exhibition, the so-called clock-room, the sight-seeing crowds were so thickly packed that Reinhold, who had Ferdinanda on his arm, saw no possibility of getting any further. "It is not so full in the next room," said Ferdinanda; "but we must wait a little. They always take care to hang good pictures here. We will go separately, it is always easier to get on. How do you like this beautiful Andreas Achenbach? Is not that perfect? Wonderful! in his best and grandest style! Sky and sea--all in shades of grey, and yet how sharply the different bits stand out. And how well he knows how to bring life into what might seem monotonous by introducing that red flag in the background on the mast of a schooner, and here in the foreground by the flickering light upon the planks of the bridge as the water streams over it. Masterly! quite masterly!" Reinhold had listened to Ferdinanda's spirited description with the greatest enjoyment. "She can talk about that," thought he. "Well, she certainly is an artist. I can see it all, but could not express it, and should not be able to say why it is so beautiful." He stood there lost in contemplation of the picture. "What would be the captain's next manœuvre? He certainly must tack to get before the wind, but he was about a ship's-length too near the bridge for that: a puzzling situation!" thought Reinhold. He turned to express his opinion to Ferdinanda, and very nearly spoke to a little fat old lady who had taken Ferdinanda's place, and with her glass to her eyes was examining the picture together with about a dozen other people, who stood round in a half circle. Reinhold made a fruitless effort to get through them and to join Ferdinanda, whom he saw at some little distance talking to one or two ladies so busily that she never once turned round, and for the moment had evidently forgotten him. "Another advantage of being separate which I will also make use of," thought Reinhold. A picture close by caught his attention--another sea-piece by Hans Gude, so said the catalogue--which pleased him almost better than the first had done. To the left was the open sea, where a large steamer lay at anchor; on the shore, which curved round in a great bay, were to be seen in the distance amongst the sandhills a few fishermen's huts, out of whose chimneys smoke was rising; between the little village and the ship was a rowing-boat, while another quite in the foreground was sailing towards the shore. The evening sky was overcast with heavy clouds above the sandhills, so that the smoke could hardly rise; only to the extreme west of the horizon over the open sea was a small streak of dull red. The night would be stormy, and a sharp breeze was already springing up and blowing the flag of the steamer straight out, and on the bare sands in the foreground the breakers were coming in heavily. Reinhold could not tear himself away from the picture.