The boy sat down beside him, but remained silent.

“Shall I help you?” said the Marquis.  “Ah, my lad, I know that it is difficult to tell one’s dreams, they are often such sacred things; but your good mother has been telling me something about you.  We are of the same blood, she and I, so we talk easily and tell each other secrets, as two members of a large family will.  She tells me, Richard, that you have thought a great deal about me.”

“Indeed, sir, I have.”

“And made something of a hero of me; is that it?”

“Would that anger you, sir?”

“Anger me!  Why, my lad, the man who can become a child’s hero should be proud of it.  There must be something good mixed with his common clay for him to achieve so much.  I am glad and proud, as proud as I am of General Washington’s thanks the other day; you need not look at me with such disbelief in your eyes, for I only say what is true.  So now tell me your dreams.”

“They are only half dreams,” said the boy slowly, but to-day they seem clearer.  They have one end and aim, to be like you, to fight for the oppressed, to fight and to conquer.”

“The dreams are worthy, Richard, but set yourself a higher standard.  That you think so much of me almost brings a blush to my cheek, lad, for I am a poor hero.  Yet, there is this in common between us, I too, have had such dreams—­have them still.  I am striving to make my dreams come true.  So much every man can do.  You have, or you will have presently, your duty set straight before you.  Duty is like that; it never lies in ambush.  Along that path of duty you must march and never turn aside.  It is a strange path, for though it is distinct and clear that all may recognize it, yet for each individual it seems to have a different direction.  It leads some to mighty deeds which must echo round the world; some it will bring to poverty, obscurity, disgrace perchance, but these are heroes, remember, as the others are, greater heroes I think, since no man knows them or cheers them on.  You have not thought of such heroes, Richard?”

“No, sir.”

“I thought not.  That is why I came to talk to you.  I cannot tell what your future is to be, I do not know in what way you are destined to travel, but duty may not call upon you to wear the sword or ride in the forefront of a charge.  This country has just had a glorious birth, a rebirth to freedom.  Your father has helped to fight for it; you may be called upon to work peaceably for it.”

“I hope, sir, my duty will mean the sword and the charge.”

“Your countrymen are probably glad to have peace,” he answered.

“But this is not the only land where men are cruelly treated and would fight for freedom,” the boy returned.  “You came here to help us against the English.  Some day may I not journey to help others?”

“Perhaps.”

“My mother is French, therefore I am partly French.  I love my father, but I am more French than English.  I should love to fight for France,” and the boy looked up eagerly into his companion’s face.