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All the officers and men of Denisov's squadron, though they tried

to talk of other things and to look in other directions, thought

only of what was there on the hilltop, and kept constantly

looking at the patches appearing on the skyline, which they knew

to be the enemy's troops. The weather had cleared again since

noon and the sun was descending brightly upon the Danube and the

dark hills around it. It was calm, and at intervals the bugle

calls and the shouts of the enemy could be heard from the hill.

There was no one now between the squadron and the enemy except a

few scattered skirmishers. An empty space of some seven hundred

yards was all that separated them. The enemy ceased firing, and

that stern, threatening, inaccessible, and intangible line which

separates two hostile armies was all the more clearly felt.