“You, man! and how?”

“Let me try to make my way within the lines.  We have French prisoners; let me borrow the uniform of one.  I can speak French as easily as though it were my mother tongue, which, in sooth, perhaps it is; for I might as well call myself French as English, although I have always loved the English and cast in my lot with them.  No sentry can know the face of every soldier in the fortress.  Let me see if I cannot get within the walls, and bring you word again of what is passing there!”

Wolfe stroked his face thoughtfully.

“It is a bold scheme, and I have a mind to take you at your word; but I would not have you run into too great peril.”

“I scarce think that I shall do so.  I will have a care.  In truth, I should well enough like to see within those solid walls.  It is a wonderful fortress this.  It might be good for us to know its strength or its weakness, if weakness it has.  I would but remain a couple of nights, and then return and bring you word again.”

“I should like to hear the report right well,” answered Wolfe.  “I only wish I could accompany you myself.”

“That would never do.  Yours is too valuable a life to risk; mine is worth but little to any man save myself.”

“I fear rather that I should be but a clog upon your movements,” answered Wolfe; “and no man would take me for a Frenchman, even though I can speak the tongue indifferently well.  Nor would Amherst suffer me to make the attempt.  We are all under obedience to our superiors.  But I will suffer you to go, if you think the risk not too great.  But have a care of yourself, Julian, have a care.  You have become a friend to me that I could ill spare.  If aught of harm befell you, the campaign would be clouded to me, even though crowned with victory.”

Julian pressed the hand he held, and for a moment there was silence between the pair.  Wolfe looked out before him, and said musingly: 

“Does it never seem strange to you, Julian, the thought that our trade is one which makes us look upon the slaughter of our foes as the thing most to be desired, whilst we have that in our hearts which causes us to hate the very thought of suffering and death, either for ourselves or for others; and when we see our foes wounded and left upon the field of battle, we give them the care and tending that we give our own men, and seek in every way to allay their pain and bring them help and comfort?”

“Yes, truly; war is full of strange paradoxes,” answered Julian thoughtfully.  “Sometimes I think that war, like all other ills, comes to us as a part of the curse which sin has brought into the world.  We cannot get away from it yet.  There be times when it is right to fight—­when to sit with folded hands would be a grievous and a cowardly action on the part of a nation.  Yet we know that it is God’s will that we should love our brethren, and we know that He loves all.  So when we see them helpless and suffering, we know that we are right to tend and care for them, and that to do otherwise would be a sin in His sight.  And we know, too, that the day will come when wars will cease, when Christ will come and take the power and rule, and when we shall see Him in His glory, and the kingdoms of this world will become the kingdom of our God and of His Christ.”