, and on the younger man's side respectful. He had never
taken any serious steps without asking his consent.

"Well, where did you think of going?" asked Clemenceau.

"To Paris."

"To show the rifle and projectile complete? No, we can test the latter
at the new series of firing experiments before the Ordnance Committee.
The Minister of War and the Emperor will not thank you for disturbing
them for so little. It was the great gun they wanted. They are wedded to
the Chassepot for the soldier's gun and, besides, the government musket
factories are opposed to so great a novelty."

"I need exercise--action--the open air," persisted the Italian.

Clemenceau shook his head. Only the day before, the young man had called
himself the happiest soul in the world and did not wish to quit
tranquil Montmorency.

"Well, after you have had your fling, would you hasten back?"

"I--I fear not, master," said he. "I daresay if you and M. Daniels
should approve, I might have a situation to travel for the Clemenceau
Rifle Company, for some months, in England or America--and explain the
value of your invention."

"You wish to be my trumpeter, eh?" said the Frenchman, sadly smiling.
"But what is to become of me during your absence and of M. Daniels?
Remember that I have nobody to understand me, sympathize with me, become
endeared to me, and aid me!"

"I, alone?" repeated the Italian, affected by the melancholy tone common
to the man of one idea who must, to concentrate his thoughts, set aside
other ties of union with his race.

"Do you doubt it?"

Antonino felt no doubt. He would be the most to be deplored among men if
he were not fond of Clemenceau after all that he had done for him. He
was an orphan vagrant, next to a beggar, when he had been housed by him,
kept, and highly educated. Then, too, with a frankness not common among
born brothers, the Frenchman had associated him in all his labors for
the revolution in the science of artillery--the greatest since Bacon
discovered gunpowder. All that he was, he owed to the man before him.

"Believe me, father," he said, earnestly, "I esteem and venerate you!"

"And yet you keep secrets from me!" reproached Clemenceau.

"I--I have no secrets."

"I see you are too serious."

"I am only sorrowful--sorrowful at quitting you."

"Why should you do it, I repeat?"

"I am never merry--happiness is not my portion," faltered Antonino, not
knowing what answer to make.

"That's nothing.