forgot the present in the past and the future, and they did not see the
two gentlemen who had left the portico some minutes before and were now
coming toward them along the sidewalk.

The two gentlemen, however, slowed their steps involuntarily at a sight
which was uncommon, even in Washington. The girl's arm was in the
soldier's, and her face, which even in repose had a true nobility, now
was alight with an inspiration that is seen but seldom in a lifetime. In
marble, could it have been wrought by a great sculptor, men would have
dreamed before it of high things.

The two, indeed, might have stood for a group, the girl as the spirit,
the man as the body which had risked and suffered all for it, and still
held it fast. For the honest face of the soldier reflected that spirit as
truly as a mirror.

Ephraim was aroused from his thoughts by Cynthia nudging his arm. He
started, put on his hat, and stared very hard at a man smoking a cigar
who was standing before him. Then he stiffened and raised his hand in an
involuntary salute. The man smiled. He was not very tall, he had a
closely trimmed light beard that was growing a little gray, he wore a
soft hat something like Ephraim's, a black tie on a white pleated shirt,
and his eyeglasses were pinned to his vest. His eyes were all kindness.

"How do you do, Comrade?" he said, holding out his hand.

"General," said Ephraim, "Mr. President," he added, correcting himself,
"how be you?" He shifted the green umbrella, and shook the hand timidly
but warmly.