The Lost Prince | Page 5

always knew,
by the look in his father's eyes, that his blood burned also. His
countrymen had been killed, they had been robbed, they had died by
thousands of cruelties and starvation, but their souls had never been
conquered, and, through all the years during which more powerful
nations crushed and enslaved them, they never ceased to struggle to
free themselves and stand unfettered as Samavians had stood centuries
before.
``Why do we not live there,'' Marco had cried on the day the promises
were made. ``Why do we not go back and fight? When I am a man, I
will be a soldier and die for Samavia.''
``We are of those who must LIVE for Samavia--working day and
night,'' his father had answered; ``denying ourselves, training our
bodies and souls, using our brains, learning the things which are best to
be done for our people and our country. Even exiles may be Samavian
soldiers--I am one, you must be one.''
``Are we exiles?'' asked Marco.
``Yes,'' was the answer. ``But even if we never set foot on Samavian
soil, we must give our lives to it. I have given mine since I was sixteen.
I shall give it until I die.''
``Have you never lived there?'' said Marco.
A strange look shot across his father's face.
``No,'' he answered, and said no more. Marco watching him, knew he
must not ask the question again.

The next words his father said were about the promises. Marco was
quite a little fellow at the time, but he understood the solemnity of them,
and felt that he was being honored as if he were a man.
``When you are a man, you shall know all you wish to know,'' Loristan
said. ``Now you are a child, and your mind must not be burdened. But
you must do your part. A child sometimes forgets that words may be
dangerous. You must promise never to forget this. Wheresoever you
are; if you have playmates, you must remember to be silent about many
things. You must not speak of what I do, or of the people who come to
see me. You must not mention the things in your life which make it
different from the lives of other boys. You must keep in your mind that
a secret exists which a chance foolish word might betray. You are a
Samavian, and there have been Samavians who have died a thousand
deaths rather than betray a secret. You must learn to obey without
question, as if you were a soldier. Now you must take your oath of
allegiance.''
He rose from his seat and went to a corner of the room. He knelt down,
turned back the carpet, lifted a plank, and took something from beneath
it. It was a sword, and, as he came back to Marco, he drew it out from
its sheath. The child's strong, little body stiffened and drew itself up,
his large, deep eyes flashed. He was to take his oath of allegiance upon
a sword as if he were a man. He did not know that his small hand
opened and shut with a fierce understanding grip because those of his
blood had for long centuries past carried swords and fought with them.
Loristan gave him the big bared weapon, and stood erect before him.
``Repeat these words after me sentence by sentence!'' he commanded.
And as he spoke them Marco echoed each one loudly and clearly.
``The sword in my hand--for Samavia!
``The heart in my breast--for Samavia!
``The swiftness of my sight, the thought of my brain, the life of my

life--for Samavia.
``Here grows a man for Samavia.
``God be thanked!''
Then Loristan put his hand on the child's shoulder, and his dark face
looked almost fiercely proud.
``From this hour,'' he said, ``you and I are comrades at arms.''
And from that day to the one on which he stood beside the broken iron
railings of No. 7 Philibert Place, Marco had not forgotten for one hour.

II
A YOUNG CITIZEN OF THE WORLD
He had been in London more than once before, but not to the lodgings
in Philibert Place. When he was brought a second or third time to a
town or city, he always knew that the house he was taken to would be
in a quarter new to him, and he should not see again the people he had
seen before. Such slight links of acquaintance as sometimes formed
themselves between him and other children as shabby and poor as
himself were easily broken. His father, however, had never forbidden
him to make chance acquaintances. He had, in fact, told him that he had
reasons for not wishing him to hold himself aloof from other boys. The
only barrier which must exist