“It is agreeable to be able to walk out once more,” said Eugene, drawing a long breath, as he sauntered slowly along by the side of the sergeant.
The man looked down at him in a kindly fashion. “You’ll be all right now,” he said, “and you must spend a lot of time outside. Why, here’s the king coming to meet us; we must be late to-day.”
The cat turned, and walked by the side of the sergeant, occasionally sniffing at the paper parcels he carried in his hand.
“Will you have the kindness to stop for a minute?” asked Eugene suddenly.
“What’s the matter?” said the sergeant.
The boy pointed to the bust of John Boyle O’Reilly that they were approaching. “Some one has put fresh flowers there,” he said excitedly. “I have been ill and detained from doing it. Who is it?”
“My wife and your jailer. She knows about your liking for the emperor and O’Reilly, and she comes here with a bouquet every morning before you’re up.”
“Does she do this to please me?”
“For no other reason that I know of.”
Eugene was silent for a short time as if he were working out some problem. Then he said earnestly, “Have you ever found her deceitful?”