“Why is he so eager for my departure?” asked Genius, turning to Virginius, who stood there silently as ever.
“He has his own reasons doubtless, but they are hard to fathom.”
Virginius came and sat down beside Genius. “But you will stay. Duty demands that you should stay—and I can say, or beg, or ask no more.”
“Yes, I will stay.”
“Shall you care for the change, do you think?”
“To me, as you know, it is immaterial.” Then Virginius smiled. “I apologise sincerely for my apparent disinterestedness, but like your human soldier I am bound to take the country as I find it. All my energies are bent on reconnoitring and organising; there is nothing left for ‘buts’ and ‘ifs.’”
“It seems to me, Virginius, if you would but stoop to make yourself agreeable, and put on some little affability, you might be a ready match for Plucritus and the rest of them.”
But before this the cold and stern expression had returned.
“The trickery of bribery is beyond me,” he observed.
“Beneath you, you mean,” said Genius, somewhat sorrowfully. “I can understand it.”