sight of him pacing slowly up and down the little inner court
close to the fountain, the boy's heart failed him again, for he recalled
the angry passage that had taken place between them the previous day--
their visitor's half-mocking words, and his own burst of passion, which
had roused him into forgetting the sacred rites of hospitality and
raising his hand to strike.

"I can't ask him; I dare not beg him to intercede," thought Marcus. "He
would only jeer at me for being a boy, and put me out of temper again.
But I must," he said. "It is for father's sake. Yes, I will. Why
should I mind? Let him laugh at me if he likes."

Raising his courage he was on his way to their visitor's side when Caius
Julius turned and caught sight of the approaching boy.

"Ah, Marcus," he said; "is your father nearly ready to go?"

"Yes," cried the boy, "but--"

He stopped short, for the words refused to come.

"Well, what were you about to say?" said Julius, frowning.

"Your father is not going to repent?"

"Repent? About me?" cried the boy, excitedly.

"About you, boy? Why should he repent about you?"

"And let me go with him," cried Marcus, excitedly, as, forgetting all
his dislike, he caught his father's visitor by the robe and spoke
eagerly and well. "I want to go with him to the war."

"You? To fight?"

"Yes; I know I am young and weak--Yes, I know, only a boy, but I shall
grow strong, and it is not only to fight. I want to be there to help
him. He might be sick or wounded. He says I must stay at home here,
but I appeal to you. You can tell him how useful I could be. You will
tell him, sir, for I feel that I ought not--that I cannot stay here and
let him go alone."

"Well spoken, my brave boy!" cried Caius Julius. "Spoken like a man!
So you, young as you are, would go with us?"

"Yes, yes, of course," cried Marcus, in his wild excitement, as he
listened to this encouraging reception of his appeal. "I think I could
fight; but even if I could not there is so much that I could do."

"And you would not feel afraid?" cried Julius, catching the boy by the
arm.

"No--yes--no--I do not know," said the boy, colouring. "I hope not."

"You do not know the horrors of a battlefield, boy," said Julius, fixing
Marcus with his keen eyes.

"No," said Marcus, thoughtfully; "it must be very terrible, but I do not
think I should shrink. I should be thinking so much of my father."

"Well, honestly and modestly spoke