“And in direct opposition to my father’s orders you were going to follow him to the war?”
“That’s right, Master Marcus, but how could I help it? Could I let him, as I’d followed into many a fight, go off to meet those savage Gauls without me at his back to stand by him as I’ve done many and many a time before?”
“You disobeyed him, sir,” cried Marcus.
“Well, boy, I own up,” growled the man; “but I meant to do it for the best. How could I stop at home nussing you like a baby and thinking all the while that my old master was going about with swords and spears offering at his throat? How could I do it, Master Marcus? Don’t be so hard on a man. It wasn’t to be done.”
“And yet you were as hard as iron to me, sir,” cried Marcus.
“Well, didn’t your father order me to be in the way of taking care of you? It was my duty.”
“Was it?” cried Marcus. “Then now I’m going to do my duty to you, sir.”
“What are you going to do, Master Marcus?” said Serge, quite humbled now.
“Make you go back to the old home and take care of it.”
“Master never gave you orders to do that,” cried the old soldier, triumphantly; “and now I’m started to follow him and fight for him, nobody shan’t make me go; so there!”