Marcus recalled too how, divining how they seemed to wish to be alone, he had left them pacing up and down beneath the shading vines, talking earnestly, while he consoled himself by joining Serge, who was in as great a state of excitement as himself and literally pelted him with questions which he could not answer, making the old soldier turn from him fiercely after telling him that he might speak out if he liked, instead of being so obstinate and refusing to trust him with what he knew.
Serge went off in high dudgeon, while, hardly giving him a thought, Marcus strolled back towards the garden in the hope that his father would take some notice of him and call him to his side.
It was then approaching mid-day, and this time he was not disappointed, for, as soon as the boy appeared, Cracis signed to him to approach.
“Come here, Marcus,” he said; and the boy noticed that their visitor smiled at him in a satisfied way.
“I am going away, my boy,” he said, “to leave our quiet little home, on very serious business.”
“Soon, father?” cried Marcus, excitedly, as his father stopped short.
“Very soon, boy—now—at once. That is, as soon as I can make my preparations.”
Marcus drew a deep breath.
“You are going to follow—him?”
“I am going with my old friend Caius Julius.”