Bamban accepted him. There were no two ways now. He had bowed in silence long after the story of the end of Minglapo, even lamenting a little that he had not been there. But Rajananda had somehow put a seal on his service to the white man. Romney regarded the _boy_ as he had never been quite able to do before, and respected the nature capable of such awe and reverence for the holy man. More especially admirable had Bamban proved on this last swift lonely journey.... They sat together during a long evening in the stone court of the Consulate at Nadiram (the door shut, the pole empty where the Russian flag had hung, and the hyenas whimpering afar off). "I’d like to go on to-night," Romney muttered. "It would kill the camels. They have been pressed as never before." "Did you ask if there were two new camels here—exchange or rent?" "Nothing of the kind." "I shall wait." "My master is parched," said Bamban. When his servant went to the Rest House, Romney remained to contemplate his world a little from the west wall where he had sat so many nights. At last he arose and went to the door where she had stood—the place of their first meeting—and knelt a moment on the stone. Even the next day the camels travelled but slowly. The same pair had come from Tushi-kow and they needed the rest of many days. From Nadiram to the place of the thonged stakes required two full days’ travel; indeed, the night had fallen before they reached this point on the road to Wampli, and no desert-band was encountered on the journey.... The night was very still and hot. For two days a south wind had blown, and they breathed now the burning of the lower borders of the desert. A deserted world. Romney could not eat. With deep strange kindness, the _boy_ pressed him to drink his tea. The white man had come and there was no sign. His head was heavy on his breast. When his thoughts became too swift and torturing for stillness, he arose from the fire and walked to the place of the stakes. From there he followed the way to the point where he had fallen in his revolt against the natives.... They had taken her on from this point—just here he was carried to the camel.... The sentences of the old master on that last day recurred persistently now. "... He said that man goes alone on his mission and that woman waits. He said that the woman I had found was to wait in sanctuary.... He seemed to love her, too, Bamban—" "Yes, he called her his daughter, and spoke twice of her filling his bowl in the stone square at Nadiram—" "He said that he was going to her," Romney went on, his words heavy and slow, "—that she was waiting for me in the hills of his country—not far from this place." "He will come soon," said Bamban, who was stretching out the blankets. "He said there must be a new and different love between man and woman in the world. But, my God! they die! They seem to die when they love like that—" "I do not understand," said Bamban.