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"Ah!" cried the old soldier, as, when he had nearly finished, he drew out from the bottom of the chest the smallest of the shields and pitched it so that it fell upon Cracis' pillow, suggesting to Marcus that the man meant that it should lie there in his master's absence and sleep; but Serge saw nothing of Marcus' agitated countenance, for he was gazing into the future.

He thinks what you have said can never be undone, that he can never be the same here again as he was, that he has lost your confidence and you won't trust him again, and " "Well, and what?" said Cracis, smiling tolerantly. "Oh, it's too stupid to tell you, father." "One has to hear stupid things in life, my boy, as well as wise, so tell me all the same.

"Years, captain," cried Serge, with military promptness. "I served with Cracis and Julius in the old war." "Hah! You'll do," cried the captain. "But I don't want boys."

For a few moments there was utter silence, Cracis looking as if stunned, and a slight colour beginning to appear in the visitor's pallid cheeks as he stood gazing at Marcus' father, waiting for him to speak, while Cracis after catching his son's wrist and snatching him back, and without taking his eyes from their visitor, found words at last to speak. "Are you mad, boy?" he exclaimed, hoarsely.

"Yes, master," said the old soldier, slowly, and making an effort with his bruised and stiffened limb, he slowly passed his hand across to his left side and drew his short, heavy sword, passed the hilt into his left so that he could clasp the blade with his right, and in that way held it out to Cracis as he went on speaking: "I disobeyed you once, master, and that's enough for a Roman soldier.

Cracis was deep in thought, seated by the open window, with the double roll of a volume in his hands, reading slowly line by line of the old papyrus Romano-Grecian writings of one of the philosophers, and, as he came to each line's end, it slowly disappeared beneath the upper roll, while the nether was opened out to leave the next line visible to the reader's eye.

"I am obliged to, boy," said the captain, smiling, "for I can't help feeling that Cracis, if we meet, would blame me more for doing my duty than for letting you come. Here, old man, you shall not tramp after our horse to come in weary and distressed at every halt. I'll put the boy, as he is Cracis' son, in one of the chariots, one of the light ones drawn by Thracian horses.

"Are you much hurt?" he said, hoarsely. "No, no, not much, my boy," said Cracis; "but in the excitement I did not know you, Marcus. Oh, it seems impossible that you could have been my preserver!" "It was more Serge than I, father," cried Marcus, quickly. "Nay, nay, nay!" growled the old soldier, in his hoarsest tones. "Speak the truth, boy." "That is the truth," cried Marcus, quickly.

"Worse and worse," cried Cracis, angrily. "Then you set the example which my weak son followed?" "No, father," cried Marcus, quickly; "I did not know that Serge had gone." "Ah!" said Cracis, quickly. "What excuse have you to make, sir, for deserting your post?" "I didn't, master," cried the old soldier, stoutly. "I didn't desert my post. My post was where I was last night, at my master's side.

"Yes," said Cracis, interrupting him and speaking very firmly, "I know what you would say take you with me but it cannot be. Now, Marcus, you are only a boy, but I want you to let my old friend see that you can act like a man. Do you understand?" "Yes, father." "Then look here, my boy.