oldier stopped his way.

"Want me, boy?" he cried, hoarsely.

"Yes, Serge. Father is going away at once."

"With that Caius Julius?" cried the old soldier. "I know him now. It
seemed to come to me like this morning when I woke. What does it mean
then? The master a prisoner?"

"No, Serge; he's going with him to the war. But come, quickly!" he
added, as the man stood staring at him as if struck speechless with
wonderment. "Don't talk--don't ask me questions. Father wants his
weapons and his armour at once. Come on. You are to help me get them
ready."

The old soldier was standing before him with his herdsman's staff in his
hand as if ready to go off round the farm, and, drawing himself up, he
grasped the stout crook in both his hands, bent down, placed one knee
against it, and, with one effort of his great strength, snapped it
across his knee as if it were a twig and threw the pieces from him with
a gesture of contempt.

"Hah!" he cried, with a deep expiration of his breath. "At last, boy!
The master is going to be himself again. There, don't talk to me! I
know! I have lain awake, boy, cursing that Caius Julius for coming here
to disturb the master's quiet life. He was his enemy always, and I
could see nothing in it but ill--blind fool that I was! I can bless him
now. Come on, boy! I know! Who was right now in keeping the swords
sharp and the armour bright?"

The next minute the great chest had been dragged out into the middle of
Cracis' room and the old soldier was down upon his knees joyously
unpacking the war-like equipments that he had so sadly stowed away so
short a time before.

They were all mingled together so as to make them fit and the great
chest contain them all, and as, taking the lead, Serge worked on, it was
with a rapid touch that he sorted the three suits, giving each its
place, his own armour and weapons, the more handsomely furnished
appertaining to his master, and those of the boy, which had been fitted
in.

The two former portions he laid to right and left, and, as he drew them
forth, he sent pang after pang through the breast of Marcus, for it
seemed to him that Serge laid his father's offensive and defensive
pieces of accoutrement together with almost reverent care, banging his
own together heavily, while, as he dislodged those portions that had
been prepared and fitted with such pride to suit the youth who wore
them, they were pitched carelessly upon the bed to clash