“I’d rather that than bear his blow.”
Bonaparte made no further objections; he loved courage, instinctively, and his young comrade’s pleased him.
“Well, so be it!” he replied; “I will tell Valence that you wish to fight him, but not till to-morrow.”
“Why to-morrow?”
“You will have the night to reflect.”
“And from now till to-morrow,” replied the child, “Valence will think me a coward.” Then shaking his head, “It is too long till to-morrow.” And he walked away.
“Where are you going?” Bonaparte asked him.
“To ask some one else to be my friend.”
“So I am no longer your friend?”
“No, since you think I am a coward.”