“Well, sir?”
“I’ve done wrong, father, and I am ashamed of it.”
“Hah! Come, that is more like my boy,” cried Cracis, very sternly, but with the frown upon his brow less deeply marked. “There, go on.”
“It was like this, father. One day I found Serge cleaning and burnishing the old armour that you and he used to wear.”
“Why was this, sir?” cried Cracis sternly to his old servant. “Did I not tell you that I had given up a warrior’s life for ever?”
“Yes, master.”
“Did I place any tie upon you? Did I not tell you that you were free to remain in the legion?”
“Yes, master; but how was I to leave you? You know I could not.”
“Well, sir, I gave you leave to stay here with me in my country house, but I told you to leave all traces of my former life behind.”
“You did, master.”