And all the rest tranquil as ever, eh ?--the whole country jogging on the same old way, or asleep and dreaming dreams, perhaps, same kind of dreams they had in Marco Polo's day." The end of his cigar burned red again; and again, except for that, he might have been asleep.

Rudolph made no answer, but lay thinking.

This brief moment of rest in the cool, dim courtyard--merely to lie there and wait--seemed precious above all other gain or knowledge.

Some quiet influence, a subtle and profound conviction, slowly was at work in him.
It was patience, wonder, steady confidence,--all three, and more.

He had felt it but this once, obscurely; might die without knowing it in clearer fashion; and yet could never lose it, or forget, or come to any later harm.