Some discussion took place as to the possibility of leaving Roy behind in Fontainebleau, for the chance of a passport being sent soon, but this was felt to be too great a risk. Such friends as the Barons had made were among the English détenus, and these, like themselves, were ordered to Verdun. A good deal of kindness had been shown to English prisoners by French residents at Fontainebleau, but there was no one with whom the Barons could contentedly leave Roy. They slowly made up their minds that he must go with them to Verdun. Not Colonel Baron only, but his wife also, by this time regretted greatly not having sent Roy home at the first, when passports had been more readily granted. Roy rebelled angrily. He had liked to talk of himself grandly as a "prisoner of war," all the time feeling that he was free. It was another matter to find himself in truth not free, but almost as much of a prisoner in France as those who were compelled to give their parole. "It's too beastly disgusting," he declared to his chief confidant, having managed in his mother's presence to restrain his regrets. "That old beast of a Boney! I wish I could shoot him!" "Roy, you must be more careful; walls have ears in France. If you abuse the First Consul, you will some day get yourself into serious trouble. This is not a land of free speech, like England. Your father and I could do little for you if you fell into the hands of the gendarmes. We are prisoners ourselves." "But isn't it hateful? Only think--if I'm kept on here for two years I sha'n't be able to go into the Army directly I'm sixteen." "We may have peace long before three years are over. No use to look forward so long." "He hasn't any right to keep me. I've a right to go home." "I'm afraid the First Consul cares little for any man's rights, except his own. But you must be brave and not give way. Think of your mother, not of yourself. We are all sufferers together. And, after all, the passport may arrive later. You could return home from Verdun, though it would be a longer journey. It will not do for us to delay starting any more. We have barely allowed ourselves time to reach Verdun by the latest day specified." "Den, don't you want to go home?" Did he not want it? The handsome bronzed face, which had of late grown thinner than its wont, looked quietly at Roy. "Sometimes I would give my right hand to get away," he confessed. "Yes, I want it--more than you can know, perhaps. But these things do not come of themselves. They are allowed, for some good purpose." "You don't mean that God wants Napoleon to behave in such a way?" "No; certainly not. But it may be His will that you and I should have this opportunity to be patient and brave. It's a great trouble for both of us--no use to deny that. And to be brave in captivity is much harder than to be brave in fighting. But it will come to an end in time. Napoleon will not be allowed to go on always unchecked."