The eyes of the man and the child met gravely.

"I wondered whether you would be willing to tell some friends of
mine--here--now--"

He had turned to her--a swift look.

She replied with a smile. "Nothing formal--just simple things, such as
you told the child. We should be very grateful to you," she added, as if
she were a little surprised at herself.

He looked at her with clear eyes. "I speak--yes--I like always--to speak
of my country. I thank you."

The child, standing by with eager feet, moved lightly. Her hands danced
in softest pats. "You will tell them about it--just as you told me--and
they will love it!"

"I tell them--yes!"

"Come, Miss Stone." The child held out her hand with a little gesture of
pride and loving. "We must go now. Good-bye, Mr. Achilles. You will come
again, please."

"I come," said Achilles, simply. He watched the quaint figure pass
down the long rooms beside the shimmering grey dress, through an arched
doorway at the end, and out of sight. Then he turned to his hostess
with the quick smile of his race. "She is beautiful, madame," he said,
slowly. "She is a child!"