For a hundred yards at least of the hollow they had crossed, a single stream now carried its dark waters foaming and roaring far inland. The Count saw it with a shudder; there could hardly be a question that the same wave must have broken through above also, on the other side of the Pölitz's farm, and then in all probability the waters would have united behind the farm. If this were the case, only two places of refuge remained--the farm itself, or the lofty dune--called the White Dune--between the two hollows. The dune stood higher, but was farther off, and it was doubtful whether they could reach it as lower fields lay between it and the farm; besides, what would become of them up there? "We will go to the farm," said he, "if it were only to give the horses a rest in some sort of shelter; they can't get on any farther." He rode slowly on in front, Carla followed. Her silence made him furious. "Little fool!" he muttered between his teeth; "at the very moment when I am risking my life for her! And now to go to Pölitz--after the scene we had yesterday!--a pretty wind up to the whole affair--possibly to spend the whole night there!--I thought so!" He had reached the highest point behind the farm garden, and for the first time could see beyond; the whole immense space between the farm and the Golmberg was one sea of wild waves! The sea must have broken through here even earlier. He could see now too how the stream behind him had joined on the left with the sea before him. There was no communication possible now between this place and Warnow; they were on a long, narrow island, one end of which was lost in the waters towards Warnow, and whose highest point was the White Dune, though it was probably divided again between the farm and the hill. The Count did not consider the position to be absolutely dangerous, but it was confoundedly disagreeable; and all on account of this mute, perverse young lady, who apparently honoured him with her hatred as thanks for all that he had done for her! The Count was in a desperate frame of mind, as they now turned the corner of the outhouses towards the entrance to the farmyard. A man, whose rough hair was being blown wildly about his head by the wind, was vainly exerting his giant strength to shut the great wooden gate, the left half of which--the right was already bolted--was fixed to the wall as if by iron clamps by the force of the gale. "I will help you, Pölitz!" called the County "only let us through first!" The farmer, who had not heard them coming, let go the door which he had just freed, and sprang into the gateway, where he stood with his gigantic form in his torn clothes, his dishevelled hair, his face convulsed with despair and now with furious anger, and his bleeding hand clenched--a terrible vision to the Count's guilty conscience. "Come, be reasonable, Pölitz!" he cried.