To the weathered Romney had come a certain dismay. He had been able to meet most pressures from men; take up most of men’s crosses and carry them to Golgotha, if necessary, but the burden of this—that her face was calm, that her eyes gave no sign, that his approach meant nothing of the extraordinary nature that had prevailed upon him—this held the unique pang. He tried to save himself, as a man’s mind will, by the thought that the suddenness of this encounter and the utter absence of beauty from his life for many weeks, had stimulated him in an unusual way. This that had rocked his heart was just a pretty woman’s influence. She would say something presently to break the dream, and he would be quite calm again. It was not until after this rush of thinking that Romney came up out of the deeps—enough to laugh at himself, for expecting her to be startled by his coming. But it was not a very successful laugh, not the kind he used in men’s affairs or against the worst that the world had shown him since the other woman went her way. The idea of his mission did not rouse him. He had merely concentrated on work to pass the time until this moment. In fact it is the great workers of the world who become terrific to handle when they turn from their tasks to a woman.... Romney had no particular message for the Russian Consul, yet he said with difficulty: "Is the Consul very ill?" "I think he will be able to see you in the morning." Now she was looking at him differently, her head bent toward him. "You do not speak like an Englishman," she added. He drew closer. "I am American." It was not apparent whether she was pleased or regretted the fact. That there was a medium of language between them did not occur in its full importance until afterward. "I am Anna Erivan, the Consul’s sister." If she had been Erivan’s wife, Romney might have treasured for some time a certain deep dream, but certainly he would have kept his dreaming clean-clipped that night; and certainly he would not have tarried in the court, until he was asked to enter the Consulate. Bamban was sent with the camels to the Rest House. The woman made tea and placed food before him, lighting the candles and tending the fire upon the hearth. It was a low, broad room, the beams of the ceiling uncovered, the floor paved with flags, like the court, and gratifyingly clean.