He held out a shaking hand.
"But the brain is clear still, Monsieur," he went on, "do not fear. Your pupil shall have the best of care."
He walked feebly to the operating table. There, his whole figure changed. Unconsciously his back straightened, his hand ceased to tremble, and, as he bent over the patient, his eyes narrowed with the penetration that they must have borne twenty years before.
The master observed him closely.
"The lad is in good hands," he said, in a low voice; "come, let us go."
He turned to the aged physician.
"Monsieur," he said, "I feel it is an honor that we of the older generation can still serve Belgium. The first young victim of this war is in your keeping. I—" he paused, "I have no children, only the children of my school. It is my child, therefore, Monsieur, that I leave with you."
"He shall be as a child of mine," the old man answered.
Father and son embraced and the little party of three left the doctor's house.