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Updated: May 26, 2025
"And you, Serge, my old and trusted servant, old soldier though you were," continued Cracis, in tones that sounded icy, "as soon as my back was turned you plotted with my son to follow me and forsake your post." "Nay, master," cried Serge, quickly; "there was no plotting. I deserted first." "Hah!" ejaculated Caius Julius again, and his clearly-cut face looked as if it were formed of marble.
"To continue your old enmity, and in mine absence revile me to my son?" "Revile? Nonsense!" cried his visitor. "It was by accident. I came, and found you away, and reviled you? no! I was but speaking to try your brave and spirited boy. I never for a moment thought that he would fire up as he did with all his father's spirit and readiness to resent a wrong." "Indeed?" said Cracis, coldly.
Serge went off in high dudgeon, while, hardly giving him a thought, Marcus strolled back towards the garden in the hope that his father would take some notice of him and call him to his side. It was then approaching mid-day, and this time he was not disappointed, for, as soon as the boy appeared, Cracis signed to him to approach.
"I speak coldly like this," said Cracis, "because I am fighting hard to beat down the feelings of pride and triumph that the time has come when he who drove me from my high position in Rome has sought me out to make so brave and manly an appeal, for, knowing you as I do to the very core, I can feel the battle that you must have had with self before you stooped you, great general as you are to come and tell me that you need my help."
"You think that something is underlying all this," and he spoke with deep earnestness, his voice broken and changed. "Yes," said Cracis; "I cannot do otherwise. I do believe you every word." "Then why do you speak so coldly and calmly, when I come to you penitent, to humble myself to you and ask your help?"
I was just like the boy there; I felt somehow that you'd want your old follower's help, and I was obliged to come and join you. You see, we came together, and reached you just in time." "You disobeyed my commands, Serge," said Cracis, speaking as if deaf to his old follower's appealing words. "You too, my son; but the words of both tell of the repentance in your breasts.
Go and see that proper preparations are made for our guest. You will honour us No," he continued, with a pleasant smile, as he turned to his guest, "we are very simple here, but you will be welcome and stay here to-night." "Gladly," cried Julius, eagerly. "Believe me, I shall be proud, for I have gained my ends." "Not yet," said Cracis, gravely.
"You are going to follow him?" "I am going with my old friend Caius Julius." "And you'll take me with you, father?" Cracis was silent for a few moments, and he sighed deeply as he laid his hand upon his son's head. "No, my boy; I must leave you behind. I am going to take part in a great struggle." "A great struggle, father? You don't mean a war?" "Yes, my boy, I do mean a war."
Marcus turned to meet his father, who looked at him wondering to see him there, and bringing the colour to the boy's cheeks, so guilty did he feel, as, with his cloak over his arm, Cracis drew his son to him to press him to his mailed breast, held out his hand to Serge, and then strode forward with heavy tread to join his old military companion, who was now slowly bending over the side of the fountain, into whose clear surface he kept on lowering the white tips of his fingers so that one or the other of the little fish that glided about within the depths might dart at them and apply its lips in the belief that something was offered to it fit for food.
Marcus' lips parted to make one more appeal, but, as his eyes met his father's where Cracis stood pointing towards the door, his own fell again, and feeling mastered, crushed in his despair, he moved slowly towards the door, his heart seeming to rise to his throat to strangle him in the intense emotion from which he suffered; but, as soon as he was outside, his elastic young spirit seemed to spring up again, and he hurried to his room, to stand there thinking, with the resolve to make one more strong effort to move his father's determination.
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