She went up to the window. The sun was just setting; high up in the sky were large red clouds.

‘What are those clouds like?’ questioned Zina�da; and without waiting for our answer, she said, ‘I think they are like the purple sails on the golden ship of Cleopatra, when she sailed to meet Antony. Do you remember, Meidanov, you were telling me about it not long ago?’

All of us, like Polonius in Hamlet, opined that the clouds recalled nothing so much as those sails, and that not one of us could discover a better comparison.

‘And how old was Antony then?’ inquired Zina�da.

‘A young man, no doubt,’ observed Malevsky.

‘Yes, a young man,’ Meidanov chimed in in confirmation.