"Shouldn't you like to become one?"
"We cannot make ourselves noblemen."
The boy played with his horse's long mane; glancing back, he saw that the flag had been lowered from the tower. He pointed it out to Eric, saying haughtily that he should hoist it again. His fine, delicately cut, but pale face gained strength and color as it lost its weary look, and assumed a daring expression.
Without noticing his domineering manner, Eric said how much he liked Roland's pride in being an American.
"You are the first person in Germany who has commended it," cried the boy joyfully. "Herr von Pranken and Fräulein Perini are always ridiculing America; you are the only man,—but I beg your pardon, I ought not to be talking so familiarly to you."
"Put away that notion; we want to be good friends."
The boy held out his hand, and Eric pressed it warmly.
"See, our horses are good friends too," said Roland. "Have you many horses at home?"
"No, not any; I am poor."
"Wouldn't you like to be rich?"