"Much more than you can imagine. I have been wondering what I should do with myself without my friend Roy."
The boy flushed up.
"Den, am I your friend truly? Do you like to have me?" He clutched the young Guardsman's arm, with a quick gesture. "Would you be sorry if I went?" He read a plain answer in the other's face. "Oh, then I don't mind, then I'll be glad I haven't got a passport. I don't care, if you like to have me. I thought I was just a bother."
"I'm not so selfish as to wish to keep you here, and if a passport comes I shall be glad. But you have been no bother. It is bad enough anyhow, going to Verdun. It would be ten times worse if we were leaving you behind. You are the one bit of cheer left to us."
Another furtive clutch on his arm.
"I'm glad. I'd rather be your friend than anybody's. And I promise to work hard and to do whatever you like." Then, in the same breath, "How soon shall we see Mademoiselle de St. Roques?"
"I have had a letter from her. That is one little piece of good news. I wrote to ask if she could recommend us where to go for rooms, and she tells me that the old people with whom she lives would be glad to let the upstairs floors. She promises that they would do their best to make us comfortable, and suggests that we should go there on our first arrival, to try how we like the accommodation."
"And shall we?"
"Your father seems willing. Even if it does not do for a permanency, we shall have time to look out. But probably it will do very well. Prisoners must not be over particular."
"And are the people she lives with noblesse too?" asked Roy, who had heard a good deal about the old French noblesse and their sufferings in the Revolution, during the last few months. "Will they wait upon us? It would be funny to have an old nobleman handing the plates at table."