I was startled and awed at my own words. The idea was unlike anything of mine. It was exactly as if she had told me something of the kind in the dream. Varsieff groaned:
"The glory of her," he whispered. "Was there more?"
"Only that you must not falter now ... and that she would be waiting for you at the end of the day——"
"'In the cool of the evening,' she would say," he muttered.
"Perhaps that was it," I said.
"Nothing more?"
"Yes—but only if you needed it——"
"I do."
"That she never loved you so well as now—that you mean new Russia to her—that she will come running to you in the cool of the evening—either here or on the other side—and something about the child of a king."