"But you are not French, boys," Mrs. Barclay said, piteously.
"We are half French, mamma. Not legally, but it has been home to us, since we were born and, even if you had not been French, we ought to fight for her."
Mrs. Barclay looked at her husband for assistance, but Captain Barclay had leaned his face in his hands, and said nothing.
"Ah, Ralph; but Percy at least, he is only fifteen."
"I am nearly as big, nearly as strong as Ralph, mamma. Besides, would it not be better to have two of us? If one is ill or--or wounded--the other could look after him, you know.
"Mamma, dearest, we have talked it over, and we think we ought to go. We are very strong for our ages; and it is strength, not years, which matters. Mamma, you said a Frenchwoman should not grudge those she loves to France; and that if France was invaded all, even the women, should go out."
Mrs. Barclay was silent. She could not speak. She was so deadly pale, and her face had such an expression of misery, that the boys felt their resolution wavering.
Captain Barclay looked up.
"Boys," he said, very gravely, "I have one question to ask; which you will answer me truly, upon your faith and honor Do you wish to go merely--or principally--from a desire to see the excitement and the adventure of a guerrilla war; or do you go out because you desire earnestly to do your best, to defend the country in which you were born, and lived? Are you prepared to suffer any hardship and, if it is the will of God, to die for her?"
"We are, papa," both boys said.