And thus it came about that Polson and Irene met once more before the final parting, for at the moment at which the carriage swept into the barrack square the newly-enlisted recruit was walking towards the orderly room under the guidance of a corporal. The youngster still wore the fluttering ribbons in the shabby old sealskin cap, and that fact and his presence in the barracks told the whole story instantly.
‘By Heaven!’ cried the General, ‘I like that. The lad has grit in him!’ He cried aloud in the ringing clarion voice which advancing years had left in all its rounded sweetness, ‘Hi, you there—halt!’ and the corporal at the voice straightened himself and stood to attention. Polson knew the voice, but he walked on until the command was repeated. The General stopped the carriage and alighted. ‘Can you bear to speak to him?’ he whispered.
‘Yes,’ said Irene, ‘I wish it.’
The General walked briskly to the recruit, and stretched out his hand towards him. ‘You have done well, my lad. You could have done nothing better. You have an old soldier’s respect, Polson. You have joined us?’
‘Yes, sir,’ said Polson, ‘I have joined you. Volnay is here, sir—you remember Volnay?’
‘His father and I charged together at Waterloo,’ said the General. ‘He is a good lad. You and he are great friends, I hear?’
‘We have been,’ Polson answered. ‘Major de Blacquaire is here as well; but he has a Staff appointment, and I understand he leaves the corps to-morrow.’
‘He is the man I am here to see,’ said Boswell. ‘Irene is with me, and I believe she wishes to speak to you.’
The young man glanced deprecatingly at his old array, and the General read the glance. ‘She will understand all that,’ he said, ‘just as well as I do. You have seen De Blacquaire?’
‘I believe he is in barracks—I saw him a few hours ago.’