"Yes, my father, I criticise," replied Sergius, at last, for the others
said nothing.

"Perhaps you were thinking that he has extended his front too far?"
said the consul, and there was infinite sarcasm in his tones.

Sergius grew crimson under the taunting voice and the little, shifty
eyes.

"I have ventured to say," he replied haughtily, "that the consul,
Varro, is not using our numbers as he might. As you have noted, the
front _is_ contracted, where we might easily lash around their flank
like the thongs of a scourge. Nevertheless had I known that the noble
colleague of the general was near me, I would have restrained my words."

"Ah! then you have doubtless grown more respectful of commanders since
you disobeyed your dictator in Campania;" but now the anger in Sergius'
face told the speaker that the limit of endurance had been reached, and
his tone became less offensive. "That is in the old days, though, and
you _did_ run twelve miles with a broken shoulder: you see I know
all--only I am sure that you are not realizing how deeply your general
has studied the Punic wars, or perhaps you do not know how necessary is
depth to the battle that would stand against the great war-beasts. It
is possible, barely possible, that our most scientific commander has
forgotten that the enemy has no elephants here; but what is that to a
great genius? He has learned that Carthage wars with elephants, that
these are best met by deepening the files, and that we are about to
fight Carthage; therefore he deepens the files, though the last
elephant in Italy died two years ago in the northern marshes. If you
are beaten, you will at least have the satisfaction of being beaten
while fighting most learnedly."

As Sergius noted the bitterness and agony in the voice that spoke, he
found his resentment giving place to pity for the hard, grim man who,
powerless to avert, yet saw clearly every cord of the snare into which
he was being driven.

"Do we guard the camp, my father?" he asked, gently, when Paullus had
finished.

The latter started from the gloomy stare with which he was regarding
the fast-forming lines.

"I have been offered the command of the camp," he said, almost
fiercely. "I have refused it. Escape to the north would be too
easy--and I do not wish to escape. What do you think the centuries
would do if I came home beaten? I who escaped so narrowly before?" He
leered cunningly at his listeners; then his face grew