ho sat smiling coldly with his
eyes half closed, "this lad's father, my old officer--and a better never
stepped or led men against Rome's enemies--gave me his commands, and
they were these: that young Marcus here was to give up all thoughts of
soldiering and war, and those commands, as his old follower, I am going
to carry out. So, as you have eaten and are rested, the sooner you go
on your journey the better, and leave us here at peace."

"Serge!" cried Marcus, firmly; and he drew himself up with his father's
angry look, "you mean well, and wish to do your duty, but this is not
the way to speak to a stranger and my father's guest."

"He's not your father's guest, my lad, but yours, and he's taken upon
himself to say to you what he shouldn't say, and set you against your
father's commands."

"Even if he has, Serge, he must be treated as a guest--I don't know your
name, sir," continued the boy, turning to the visitor, "but in my
father's name I ask you to forgive his true old servant's blunt, honest
speech."

The visitor rose, grave and stern.

"It is forgiven, my boy," he said; "for after hearing what he has said I
can only respect him for his straightforward honesty. My man, I am an
old soldier too. I regret that I have spoken as I did, and I respect
you more and more. Rome lost a brave soldier when you left her ranks.
Will you shake hands?"

Serge drew back a little, and looked puzzled.

"Yes, give me your hand," said the visitor. "I am rested and refreshed,
but I am not yet going away. I am going to stay and see Cracis, who was
once my dear old friend."

"You knew my master?" cried Serge, with the puzzled look deepening in
his eyes.

"Thoroughly," was the reply, "and we have fought together in the past.
He will forgive me what I have said, as I do you, and I shall tell him
when he comes how glad I am to see that he has such a son and is so
bravely served."

For answer the old soldier hesitatingly took the proffered hand, and
then gladly made his retreat, the pair following him slowly out into the
shady piazza, where they stood watching till he disappeared, when the
visitor, after glancing round, gathered his toga round him, and sank
down into a stone seat, beside one of the shadow-flecked pillars,
frowning heavily the while.

"He means well, sir," said Marcus, hastily; "but I'm sure my father
would have been sorry if he had heard. I am glad, though, that I asked
you in."

"Why?" said the visit