“For me to tell you all this?” cried Marcus, whose face was still flushed with excitement. “Yes, I oughtn’t to have spoken and said so much, but somehow you questioned me and seemed to make me talk.”
“Did I?” said the visitor. “Well, I suppose I did; but what I meant was that it seems a pity that so promising a lad should only be kept to his books. But there, a good son is obedient to his father, and his duty is to follow out his commands.”
“Yes,” said the boy, stoutly, “and that’s what Serge says.”
“Then he doesn’t want you to be a soldier now?”
“No,” cried the boy. “He says one of the first things a soldier learns is to obey.”
“Ah!” said the visitor, looking at the boy with his quiet smile. “I should like to know this old soldier, Serge.”
“You soon can,” said the boy, laughing. “Here he comes!” For at that moment there was the deep bark of a dog.
“The dog?” said the visitor.
“Oh, that’s our wolf-hound, Lupe. It means that Serge is coming back.”
The boy had hardly spoken when the man’s step was heard outside, and, directly after, as Marcus’ guest sat watching the door, it was thrust open, and the old soldier entered, saying: “Has the master come back, my lad?” and started back, staring at the sight of the stranger.