The Duel (A Military Tale)
INAPOLEON I., whose career had the quality of aduel against the whole of Europe, disliked duellingbetween the officers of his army. The great militaryemperor was not a swashbuckler, and had little respectfor tradition.Nevertheless, a story of duelling, which became alegend in the army, runs through the epic of imperialwars. To the surprise and admiration of their fellows,two officers, like insane artists trying to gild refined goldor paint the lily, pursued a private contest through theyears of universal carnage. They were officers ofcavalry, and their connection with the high-spirited butfanciful animal which carries men into battle seemsparticularly appropriate. It would be difficult toimagine for heroes of this legend two officers of infantryof the line, for example, whose fantasy is tamed bymuch walking exercise, and whose valour necessarilymust be of a more plodding kind. As to gunners orengineers, whose heads are kept cool on a diet ofmathematics, it is simply unthinkable.The names of the two officers were Feraud andD'Hubert, and they were both lieutenants in a regimentof hussars, but not in the same regiment.Feraud was doing regimental work, but Lieut.D'Hubert had the good fortune to be attached to theperson of the general commanding the division, asofficier d'ordonnance. It was in Strasbourg, and in thisagreeable and important garrison they were enjoyinggreatly a short interval of peace. They were enjoyingit, though both intensely warlike, because it was asword-sharpening, firelock-cleaning peace, dear to amilitary heart and undamaging to military prestige,inasmuch that no one believed in its sincerity orduration.Under those historical circumstances, so favourableto the proper appreciation of military leisure, Lieut.D'Hubert, one fine afternoon, made his way along aquiet street of a cheerful suburb towards Lieut. Feraud'squarters, which were in a private house with a gardenat the back, belonging to an old maiden lady.His knock at the door was answered instantly by ayoung maid in Alsatian costume. Her fresh complexionand her long eyelashes, lowered demurely at the sightof the tall officer, caused Lieut. D'Hubert, who wasaccessible to esthetic impressions, to relax the cold,severe gravity of his face. At the same time he ob-served that the girl had over her arm a pair of hussar'sbreeches, blue with a red stripe."Lieut. Feraud in?" he inquired, benevolently."Oh, no, sir! He went out at six this morning."The pretty maid tried to close the door. Lieut.D'Hubert, opposing this move with gentle firmness,stepped into the ante-room, jingling his spurs."Come, my dear! You don't mean to say he hasnot been home since six o'clock this morning?"Saying these words, Lieut. D'Hubert opened with-out ceremony the door of a room so comfortably andneatly ordered that only from internal evidence in theshape of boots, uniforms, and military accoutrementsdid he acquire the conviction that it was Lieut. Feraud'sroom. And he saw also that Lieut. Feraud was not athome. The truthful maid had followed him, and raisedher candid eyes to his face."H'm!" said Lieut. D'Hubert, greatly disappointed,for he had already visited all the haunts where a lieu-tenant of hussars could be found of a fine afternoon."So he's out? And do you happen to know, my dear,why he went out at six this morning?""No," she answered, readily. "He came home latelast night, and snored. I heard him when I got up atfive. Then he dressed himself in his oldest uniform andwent out. Service, I suppose.""Service? Not a bit of it!" cried Lieut. D'Hubert."Learn, my angel, that he went out thus early to fight aduel with a civilian."She heard this news without a quiver of her darkeyelashes. It was very obvious that the actions ofLieut. Feraud were generally above criticism. She onlylooked up for a moment in mute surprise, and Lieut.D'Hubert concluded from this absence of emotion thatshe must have seen Lieut. Feraud since the morning.He looked around the room."Come!" he insisted, with confidential familiarity."He's perhaps somewhere in the house now?"She shook her head."So much the worse for him!" continued Lieut.D'Hubert, in a tone of anxious conviction. "But hehas been home this morning."This time the pretty maid nodded slightly."He has!" cried Lieut. D'Hubert. "And went outagain? What for? Couldn't he keep quietly indoors!What a lunatic! My dear girl --"Lieut. D'Hubert's natural kindness of dispositionand strong sense of comradeship helped his powers ofobservation. He changed his tone to a most insinuatingsoftness, and, gazing at the hussar's breeches hangingover the arm of the girl, he appealed to the interest shetook in Lieut. Feraud's comfort and happiness. Hewas pressing and persuasive. He used his eyes, whichwere kind and fine, with excellent effect. His anxietyto get hold at once of Lieut. Feraud, for Lieut. Feraud'sown good, seemed so genuine that at last it overcamethe girl's unwillingness to speak. Unluckily she hadnot much to tell. Lieut. Feraud had returned homeshortly before ten, had walked straight into his room,and had thrown himself on his bed to resume hisslumbers. She had heard him snore rather louder thanbefore far into the afternoon. Then he got up, put onhis best uniform, and went out. That was all she knew.She raised her eyes, and Lieut. D'Hubert stared intothem incredulously."It's incredible. Gone parading the town in hisbest uniform! My dear child, don't you know he ranthat civilian through this morning? Clean through, asyou spit a hare."The pretty maid heard the gruesome intelligencewithout any signs of distress. But she pressed her lipstogether thoughtfully."He isn't parading the town," she remarked in a lowtone. "Far from it.""The civilian's family is making an awful row,"continued Lieut. D'Hubert, pursuing his train ofthought. "And the general is very angry. It's oneof the best families in the town. Feraud ought to havekept close at least --""What will the general do to him?" inquired the girl,anxiously."He won't have his head cut off, to be sure," grum-bled Lieut. D'Hubert. "His conduct is positively in-decent. He's making no end of trouble for himself bythis sort of bravado.""But he isn't parading the town," the maid insistedin a shy murmur."Why, yes! Now I think of it, I haven't seen himanywhere about. What on earth has he done withhimself?""He's gone to pay a call," suggested the maid, aftera moment of silence.Lieut. D'Hubert started."A call! Do you mean a call on a lady? The cheekof the man! And how do you know this, my dear?"Without concealing her woman's scorn for the dense-ness of the masculine mind, the pretty maid remindedhim that Lieut. Feraud had arrayed himself in his bestuniform before going out. He had also put on hisnewest dolman, she added, in a tone as if this conver-sation were getting on her nerves, and turned awaybrusquely.Lieut. D'Hubert, without questioning the accuracyof the deduction, did not see that it advanced him muchon his official quest. For his quest after Lieut. Feraudhad an official character. He did not know any of thewomen this fellow, who had run a man through in themorning, was likely to visit in the afternoon. The twoyoung men knew each other but slightly. He bit hisgloved finger in perplexity."Call!" he exclaimed. "Call on the devil!"The girl, with her back to him, and folding thehussars breeches on a chair, protested with a vexedlittle laugh:"Oh, dear, no! On Madame de Lionne."Lieut. D'Hubert whistled softly. Madame de Lionnewas the wife of a high official who had a well-knownsalon and some pretensions to sensibility and elegance.The husband was a civilian, and old; but the society ofthe salon was young and military. Lieut. D'Huberthad whistled, not because the idea of pursuing Lieut.Feraud into that very salon was disagreeable to him, butbecause, having arrived in Strasbourg only lately, hehad not had the time as yet to get an introduction toMadame de Lionne. And what was that swashbucklerFeraud doing there, he wondered. He did not seem thesort of man who --"Are you certain of what you say?" asked Lieut.D'Hubert.The girl was perfectly certain. Without turninground to look at him, she explained that the coachmanof their next door neighbours knew the maitre-d'hotelof Madame de Lionne. In this way she had her in-formation. And she was perfectly certain. In givingthis assurance she sighed. Lieut. Feraud called therenearly every afternoon, she added."Ah, bah!" exclaimed D'Hubert, ironically. Hisopinion of Madame de Lionne went down several de-grees. Lieut. Feraud did not seem to him speciallyworthy of attention on the part of a woman with a repu-tation for sensibility and elegance. But there was nosaying. At bottom they were all alike -- very practi-cal rather than idealistic. Lieut. D'Hubert, however,did not allow his mind to dwell on these considerations."By thunder!" he reflected aloud. "The generalgoes there sometimes. If he happens to find the fellowmaking eyes at the lady there will be the devil to pay!Our general is not a very accommodating person, I cantell you.""Go quickly, then! Don't stand here now I've toldyou where he is!" cried the girl, colouring to the eyes."Thanks, my dear! I don't know what I wouldhave done without you."After manifesting his gratitude in an aggressive way,which at first was repulsed violently, and then sub-mitted to with a sudden and still more repellent in-difference, Lieut. D'Hubert took his departure.He clanked and jingled along the streets with amartial swagger. To run a comrade to earth in adrawing-room where he was not known did not troublehim in the least. A uniform is a passport. Hisposition as officier d'ordonnance of the general addedto his assurance. Moreover, now that he knew whereto find Lieut. Feraud, he had no option. It was a ser-vice matter.Madame de Lionne's house had an excellent appear-ance. A man in livery, opening the door of a largedrawing-room with a waxed floor, shouted his nameand stood aside to let him pass. It was a reception day.The ladies wore big hats surcharged with a profusion offeathers; their bodies sheathed in clinging white gowns,from the armpits to the tips of the low satin shoes,looked sylph-like and cool in a great display of barenecks and arms. The men who talked with them, onthe contrary, were arrayed heavily in multi-colouredgarments with collars up to their ears and thick sashesround their waists. Lieut. D'Hubert made his un-abashed way across the room and, bowing low before asylph-like form reclining on a couch, offered hisapologies for this intrusion, which nothing could excusebut the extreme urgency of the service order he had tocommunicate to his comrade Feraud. He proposed tohimself to return presently in a more regular mannerand beg forgiveness for interrupting the interestingconversation . . .A bare arm was extended towards him with graciousnonchalance even before he had finished speaking. Hepressed the hand respectfully to his lips, and made themental remark that it was bony. Madame de Lionnewas a blonde, with too fine a skin and a long face."C'est ca!" she said, with an ethereal smile, disclosinga set of large teeth. "Come this evening to plead foryour forgiveness.""I will not fail, madame."Meantime, Lieut. Feraud, splendid in his new dolmanand the extremely polished boots of his calling, sat on achair within a foot of the couch, one hand resting on histhigh, the other twirling his moustache to a point. Ata significant glance from D'Hubert he rose withoutalacrity, and followed him into the recess of a window."What is it you want with me?" he asked, withastonishing indifference. Lieut. D'Hubert could notimagine that in the innocence of his heart and simplicityof his conscience Lieut. Feraud took a view of his duelin which neither remorse nor yet a rational apprehensionof consequences had any place. Though he had noclear recollection how the quarrel had originated (it wasbegun in an establishment where beer and wine aredrunk late at night), he had not the slightest doubt ofbeing himself the outraged party. He had had twoexperienced friends for his seconds. Everything hadbeen done according to the rules governing that sort ofadventures. And a duel is obviously fought for thepurpose of someone being at least hurt, if not killedoutright. The civilian got hurt. That also was inorder. Lieut. Feraud was perfectly tranquil; butLieut. D'Hubert took it for affectation, and spoke witha certain vivacity."I am directed by the general to give you the orderto go at once to your quarters, and remain there underclose arrest."It was now the turn of Lieut. Feraud to be aston-ished. "What the devil are you telling me there?" hemurmured, faintly, and fell into such profound wonderthat he could only follow mechanically the motions ofLieut. D'Hubert. The two officers, one tall, with aninteresting face and a moustache the colour of ripe corn,the other, short and sturdy, with a hooked nose and athick crop of black curly hair, approached the mistressof the house to take their leave. Madame de Lionne,a woman of eclectic taste, smiled upon these armedyoung men with impartial sensibility and an equal shareof interest. Madame de Lionne took her delight in theinfinite variety of the human species. All the othereyes in the drawing-room followed the departingofficers; and when they had gone out one or two men,who had already heard of the duel, imparted the in-formation to the sylph-like ladies, who received it withfaint shrieks of humane concern.Meantime, the two hussars walked side by side, Lieut.Feraud trying to master the hidden reason of thingswhich in this instance eluded the grasp of his intellect,Lieut. D'Hubert feeling annoyed at the part he had toplay, because the general's instructions were that heshould see personally that Lieut. Feraud carried out hisorders to the letter, and at once."The chief seems to know this animal," he thought,eyeing his companion, whose round face, the roundeyes, and even the twisted-up jet black little moustacheseemed animated by a mental exasperation against theincomprehensible. And aloud he observed rather re-proachfully, "The general is in a devilish fury with you!"Lieut. Feraud stopped short on the edge of the pave-ment, and cried in accents of unmistakable sincerity,"What on earth for?" The innocence of the fieryGascon soul was depicted in the manner in which heseized his head in both hands as if to prevent it burstingwith perplexity."For the duel," said Lieut. D'Hubert, curtly. Hewas annoyed greatly by this sort of perverse fooling."The duel! The . . ."Lieut. Feraud passed from one paroxysm of astonish-ment into another. He dropped his hands and walkedon slowly, trying to reconcile this information with thestate of his own feelings. It was impossible. He burstout indignantly, "Was I to let that sauerkraut-eatingcivilian wipe his boots on the uniform of the 7th Hus-sars?"Lieut. D'Hubert could not remain altogether un-moved by that simple sentiment. This little fellow wasa lunatic, he thought to himself, but there was some-thing in what he said."Of course, I don't know how far you were justified,"he began, soothingly. "And the general himself maynot be exactly informed. Those people have beendeafening him with their lamentations.""Ah! the general is not exactly informed," mumbledLieut. Feraud, walking faster and faster as his choler atthe injustice of his fate began to rise. "He is notexactly . . . And he orders me under close arrest,with God knows what afterwards!""Don't excite yourself like this," remonstrated theother. "Your adversary's people are very influential,you know, and it looks bad enough on the face of it.The general had to take notice of their complaint atonce. I don't think he means to be over-severe withyou. It's the best thing for you to be kept out of sightfor a while.""I am very much obliged to the general," mutteredLieut. Feraud through his teeth. "And perhaps youwould say I ought to be grateful to you, too, for thetrouble you have taken to hunt me up in the drawing-room of a lady who --""Frankly," interrupted Lieut. D'Hubert, with aninnocent laugh, "I think you ought to be. I had noend of trouble to find out where you were. It wasn'texactly the place for you to disport yourself in underthe circumstances. If the general had caught youthere making eyes at the goddess of the temple . . .oh, my word! . . . He hates to be bothered withcomplaints against his officers, you know. And itlooked uncommonly like sheer bravado."The two officers had arrived now at the street door ofLieut. Feraud's lodgings. The latter turned towardshis companion. "Lieut. D'Hubert," he said, "I havesomething to say to you, which can't be said very wellin the street. You can't refuse to come up."The pretty maid had opened the door. Lieut.Feraud brushed past her brusquely, and she raised herscared and questioning eyes to Lieut. D'Hubert, whocould do nothing but shrug his shoulders slightly as hefollowed with marked reluctance.In his room Lieut. Feraud unhooked the clasp, flunghis new dolman on the bed, and, folding his arms acrosshis chest, turned to the other hussar."Do you imagine I am a man to submit tamely toinjustice?" he inquired, in a boisterous voice."Oh, do be reasonable!" remonstrated Lieut. D'Hu-bert."I am reasonable! I am perfectly reasonable!"retorted the other with ominous restraint. "I can'tcall the general to account for his behaviour, but you aregoing to answer me for yours.""I can't listen to this nonsense," murmured Lieut.D'Hubert, making a slightly contemptuous grimace."You call this nonsense? It seems to me a per-fectly plain statement. Unless you don't understandFrench.""What on earth do you mean?""I mean," screamed suddenly Lieut. Feraud, "to cutoff your ears to teach you to disturb me with thegeneral's orders when I am talking to a lady!"A profound silence followed this mad declaration;and through the open window Lieut. D'Hubert heardthe little birds singing sanely in the garden. He said,preserving his calm, "Why! If you take that tone, ofcourse I shall hold myself at your disposition wheneveryou are at liberty to attend to this affair; but I don'tthink you will cut my ears off.""I am going to attend to it at once," declared Lieut.Feraud, with extreme truculence. "If you are thinkingof displaying your airs and graces to-night in Madamede Lionne's salon you are very much mistaken.""Really!" said Lieut. D'Hubert, who was beginningto feel irritated, "you are an impracticable sort offellow. The general's orders to me were to put youunder arrest, not to carve you into small pieces. Good-morning!" And turning his back on the little Gascon,who, always sober in his potations, was as though bornintoxicated with the sunshine of his vine-ripening coun-try, the Northman, who could drink hard on occasion,but was born sober under the watery skies of Picardy,made for the door. Hearing, however, the unmistak-able sound behind his back of a sword drawn from thescabbard, he had no option but to stop."Devil take this mad Southerner!" he thought, spin-ning round and surveying with composure the warlikeposture of Lieut. Feraud, with a bare sword in his hand."At once! -- at once!" stuttered Feraud, beside himself."You had my answer," said the other, keeping histemper very well.At first he had been only vexed, and somewhatamused; but now his face got clouded. He was askinghimself seriously how he could manage to get away.It was impossible to run from a man with a sword, andas to fighting him, it seemed completely out of thequestion. He waited awhile, then said exactly whatwas in his heart."Drop this! I won't fight with you. I won't bemade ridiculous.""Ah, you won't?" hissed the Gascon. "I supposeyou prefer to be made infamous. Do you hear what Isay? . . . Infamous! Infamous! Infamous!" heshrieked, rising and falling on his toes and getting veryred in the face.Lieut. D'Hubert, on the contrary, became very pale atthe sound of the unsavoury word for a moment, thenflushed pink to the roots of his fair hair. "But youcan't go out to fight; you are under arrest, you lunatic!"he objected, with angry scorn."There's the garden: it's big enough to lay out yourlong carcass in," spluttered the other with such ardourthat somehow the anger of the cooler man subsided."This is perfectly absurd," he said, glad enough tothink he had found a way out of it for the moment."We shall never get any of our comrades to serve asseconds. It's preposterous.""Seconds! Damn the seconds! We don't wantany seconds. Don't you worry about any seconds. Ishall send word to your friends to come and bury youwhen I am done. And if you want any witnesses,I'll send word to the old girl to put her head out ofa window at the back. Stay! There's the gardener.He'll do. He's as deaf as a post, but he has two eyesin his head. Come along! I will teach you, my staffofficer, that the carrying about of a general's orders isnot always child's play."While thus discoursing he had unbuckled his emptyscabbard. He sent it flying under the bed, and, lower-ing the point of the sword, brushed past the perplexedLieut. D'Hubert, exclaiming, "Follow me!" Directlyhe had flung open the door a faint shriek was heard andthe pretty maid, who had been listening at the keyhole,staggered away, putting the backs of her hands over hereyes. Feraud did not seem to see her, but she ran afterhim and seized his left arm. He shook her off, andthen she rushed towards Lieut. D'Hubert and clawedat the sleeve of his uniform."Wretched man!" she sobbed. "Is this what youwanted to find him for?""Let me go," entreated Lieut. D'Hubert, trying todisengage himself gently. "It's like being in a mad-house," he protested, with exasperation. "Do let mego! I won't do him any harm."A fiendish laugh from Lieut. Feraud commented thatassurance. "Come along!" he shouted, with a stamp ofhis foot.And Lieut. D'Hubert did follow. He could do noth-ing else. Yet in vindication of his sanity it must berecorded that as he passed through the ante-room thenotion of opening the street door and bolting out pre-sented itself to this brave youth, only of course to beinstantly dismissed, for he felt sure that the other wouldpursue him without shame or compunction. And theprospect of an officer of hussars being chased along thestreet by another officer of hussars with a naked swordcould not be for a moment entertained. Thereforehe followed into the garden. Behind them the girltottered out, too. With ashy lips and wild, scaredeyes, she surrendered herself to a dreadful curiosity.She had also the notion of rushing if need be betweenLieut. Feraud and death.The deaf gardener, utterly unconscious of approach-ing footsteps, went on watering his flowers till Lieut.Feraud thumped him on the back. Beholding suddenlyan enraged man flourishing a big sabre, the old chaptrembling in all his limbs dropped the watering-pot. Atonce Lieut. Feraud kicked it away with great animosity,and, seizing the gardener by the throat, backed himagainst a tree. He held him there, shouting in his ear,"Stay here, and look on! You understand? You'vegot to look on! Don't dare budge from the spot!"Lieut. D'Hubert came slowly down the walk, un-clasping his dolman with unconcealed disgust. Eventhen, with his hand already on the hilt of his sword, hehesitated to draw till a roar, "En garde, fichtre! Whatdo you think you came here for?" and the rush of hisadversary forced him to put himself as quickly as pos-sible in a posture of defence.The clash of arms filled that prim garden, whichhitherto had known no more warlike sound than theclick of clipping shears; and presently the upper part ofan old lady's body was projected out of a window up-stairs. She tossed her arms above her white cap,scolding in a cracked voice. The gardener remainedglued to the tree, his toothless mouth open in idioticastonishment, and a little farther up the path the prettygirl, as if spellbound to a small grass plot, ran a fewsteps this way and that, wringing her hands and mutter-ing crazily. She did not rush between the combatants:the onslaughts of Lieut. Feraud were so fierce that herheart failed her. Lieut. D'Hubert, his faculties concen-trated upon defence, needed all his skill and science ofthe sword to stop the rushes of his adversary. Twicealready he had to break ground. It bothered him tofeel his foothold made insecure by the round, dry gravelof the path rolling under the hard soles of his boots.This was most unsuitable ground, he thought, keepinga watchful, narrowed gaze, shaded by long eyelashes,upon the fiery stare of his thick-set adversary. Thisabsurd affair would ruin his reputation of a sensible,well-behaved, promising young officer. It woulddamage, at any rate, his immediate prospects, and losehim the good-will of his general. These worldly pre-occupations were no doubt misplaced in view of thesolemnity of the moment. A duel, whether regarded asa ceremony in the cult of honour, or even when reducedin its moral essence to a form of manly sport, demands aperfect singleness of intention, a homicidal austerity ofmood. On the other hand, this vivid concern for hisfuture had not a bad effect inasmuch as it began torouse the anger of Lieut. D'Hubert. Some seventyseconds had elapsed since they had crossed blades, andLieut. D'Hubert had to break ground again in order toavoid impaling his reckless adversary like a beetle for acabinet of specimens. The result was that misappre-hending the motive, Lieut. Feraud with a triumphantsort of snarl pressed his attack."This enraged animal will have me against the walldirectly," thought Lieut. D'Hubert. He imagined him-self much closer to the house than he was, and he darednot turn his head; it seemed to him that he was keepinghis adversary off with his eyes rather more than with hispoint. Lieut. Feraud crouched and bounded with afierce tigerish agility fit to trouble the stoutest heart.But what was more appalling than the fury of a wildbeast, accomplishing in all innocence of heart a naturalfunction, was the fixity of savage purpose man alone iscapable of displaying. Lieut. D 'Hubert in the midst ofhis worldly preoccupations perceived it at last. It wasan absurd and damaging affair to be drawn into, butwhatever silly intention the fellow had started with, itwas clear enough that by this time he meant to kill --nothing less. He meant it with an intensity of willutterly beyond the inferior faculties of a tiger.As is the case with constitutionally brave men, thefull view of the danger interested Lieut. D'Hubert.And directly he got properly interested, the length of hisarm and the coolness of his head told in his favour. Itwas the turn of Lieut. Feraud to recoil, with a blood-curdling grunt of baffled rage. He made a swift feint,and then rushed straight forward."Ah! you would, would you?" Lieut. D'Hubertexclaimed, mentally. The combat had lasted nearlytwo minutes, time enough for any man to get em-bittered, apart from the merits of the quarrel. Andall at once it was over. Trying to close breast to breastunder his adversary's guard Lieut. Feraud received aslash on his shortened arm. He did not feel it in theleast, but it checked his rush, and his feet slipping onthe gravel he fell backwards with great violence. Theshock jarred his boiling brain into the perfect quietudeof insensibility. Simultaneously with his fall the prettyservant-girl shrieked; but the old maiden lady at thewindow ceased her scolding, and began to cross her-self piously.Beholding his adversary stretched out perfectly still,his face to the sky, Lieut. D'Hubert thought he hadkilled him outright. The impression of having slashedhard enough to cut his man clean in two abode withhim for a while in an exaggerated memory of the rightgood-will he had put into the blow. He dropped onhis knees hastily by the side of the prostrate body.Discovering that not even the arm was severed, aslight sense of disappointment mingled with the feelingof relief. The fellow deserved the worst. But truly hedid not want the death of that sinner. The affair wasugly enough as it stood, and Lieut. D'Hubert addressedhimself at once to the task of stopping the bleeding. Inthis task it was his fate to be ridiculously impeded bythe pretty maid. Rending the air with screams ofhorror, she attacked him from behind and, twining herfingers in his hair, tugged back at his head. Why sheshould choose to hinder him at this precise momenthe could not in the least understand. He did not try.It was all like a very wicked and harassing dream.Twice to save himself from being pulled over he had torise and fling her off. He did this stoically, without aword, kneeling down again at once to go on with hiswork. But the third time, his work being done, heseized her and held her arms pinned to her body. Hercap was half off, her face was red, her eyes blazed withcrazy boldness. He looked mildly into them while shecalled him a wretch, a traitor, and a murderer manytimes in succession. This did not annoy him so much asthe conviction that she had managed to scratch his faceabundantly. Ridicule would be added to the scandal ofthe story. He imagined the adorned tale making itsway through the garrison of the town, through the wholearmy on the frontier, with every possible distortion ofmotive and sentiment and circumstance, spreading adoubt upon the sanity of his conduct and the distinctionof his taste even to the very ears of his honourablefamily. It was all very well for that fellow Feraud, whohad no connections, no family to speak of, and noquality but courage, which, anyhow, was a matter ofcourse, and possessed by every single trooper in thewhole mass of French cavalry. Still holding down thearms of the girl in a strong grip, Lieut. D'Hubertglanced over his shoulder. Lieut. Feraud had openedhis eyes. He did not move. Like a man just wakingfrom a deep sleep he stared without any expression atthe evening sky.Lieut. D'Hubert's urgent shouts to the old gardenerproduced no effect -- not so much as to make him shuthis toothless mouth. Then he remembered that theman was stone deaf. All that time the girl struggled,not with maidenly coyness, but like a pretty, dumb fury,kicking his shins now and then. He continued to holdher as if in a vice, his instinct telling him that were heto let her go she would fly at his eyes. But he wasgreatly humiliated by his position. At last she gave up.She was more exhausted than appeased, he feared.Nevertheless, he attempted to get out of this wickeddream by way of negotiation."Listen to me," he said, as calmly as he could."Will you promise to run for a surgeon if I let you go?"With real affliction he heard her declare that shewould do nothing of the kind. On the contrary, hersobbed out intention was to remain in the garden, andfight tooth and nail for the protection of the vanquishedman. This was shocking."My dear child!" he cried in despair, "is it possiblethat you think me capable of murdering a woundedadversary? Is it. . . . Be quiet, you little wildcat, you!"They struggled. A thick, drowsy voice said behindhim, "What are you after with that girl?"Lieut. Feraud had raised himself on his good arm.He was looking sleepily at his other arm, at the mess ofblood on his uniform, at a small red pool on the ground,at his sabre lying a foot away on the path. Then helaid himself down gently again to think it all out, asfar as a thundering headache would permit of mentaloperations.Lieut. D'Hubert released the girl who crouched atonce by the side of the other lieutenant. The shadesof night were falling on the little trim garden with thistouching group, whence proceeded low murmurs ofsorrow and compassion, with other feeble sounds of adifferent character, as if an imperfectly awake invalidwere trying to swear. Lieut. D'Hubert went away.He passed through the silent house, and congratu-lated himself upon the dusk concealing his gory handsand scratched face from the passers-by. But this storycould by no means be concealed. He dreaded thediscredit and ridicule above everything, and was pain-fully aware of sneaking through the back streets inthe manner of a murderer. Presently the sounds ofa flute coming out of the open window of a lightedupstairs room in a modest house interrupted his dismalreflections. It was being played with a perseveringvirtuosity, and through the fioritures of the tune onecould hear the regular thumping of the foot beatingtime on the floor.Lieut. D'Hubert shouted a name, which was that ofan army surgeon whom he knew fairly well. Thesounds of the flute ceased, and the musician appeared atthe window, his instrument still in his hand, peering intothe street."Who calls? You, D'Hubert? What brings youthis way?"He did not like to be disturbed at the hour when hewas playing the flute. He was a man whose hair hadturned grey already in the thankless task of tying upwounds on battlefields where others reaped advance-ment and glory."I want you to go at once and see Feraud. Youknow Lieut. Feraud? He lives down the second street.It's but a step from here.""What's the matter with him?""Wounded.""Are you sure?""Sure!" cried D'Hubert. "I come from there.""That's amusing," said the elderly surgeon. Amus-ing was his favourite word; but the expression of hisface when he pronounced it never corresponded. Hewas a stolid man. "Come in," he added. "I'll getready in a moment.""Thanks! I will. I want to wash my hands inyour room."Lieut. D'Hubert found the surgeon occupied in un-screwing his flute, and packing the pieces methodicallyin a case. He turned his head."Water there -- in the corner. Your hands do wantwashing.""I've stopped the bleeding," said Lieut. D'Hubert."But you had better make haste. It's rather morethan ten minutes ago, you know."The surgeon did not hurry his movements."What's the matter? Dressing came off? That'samusing. I've been at work in the hospital all daybut I've been told this morning by somebody that hehad come off without a scratch.""Not the same duel probably," growled moodilyLieut. D'Hubert, wiping his hands on a coarse towel."Not the same. . . . What? Another. Itwould take the very devil to make me go out twice inone day." The surgeon looked narrowly at Lieut.D'Hubert. "How did you come by that scratchedface? Both sides, too -- and symmetrical. It's amus-ing.""Very!" snarled Lieut. D'Hubert. "And you willfind his slashed arm amusing, too. It will keep both ofyou amused for quite a long time."The doctor was mystified and impressed by thebrusque bitterness of Lieut. D'Hubert's tone. Theyleft the house together, and in the street he was stillmore mystified by his conduct."Aren't you coming with me?" he asked."No," said Lieut. D'Hubert. "You can find thehouse by yourself. The front door will be standingopen very likely.""All right. Where's his room?""Ground floor. But you had better go right throughand look in the garden first."This astonishing piece of information made thesurgeon go off without further parley. Lieut. D'Hu-bert regained his quarters nursing a hot and uneasyindignation. He dreaded the chaff of his comrades al-most as much as the anger of his superiors. The truthwas confoundedly grotesque and embarrassing, evenputting aside the irregularity of the combat itself, whichmade it come abominably near a criminal offence. Likeall men without much imagination, a faculty whichhelps the process of reflective thought, Lieut. D'Hubertbecame frightfully harassed by the obvious aspects ofhis predicament. He was certainly glad that he had notkilled Lieut. Feraud outside all rules, and without theregular witnesses proper to such a transaction. Un-commonly glad. At the same time he felt as though hewould have liked to wring his neck for him withoutceremony.He was still under the sway of these contradictorysentiments when the surgeon amateur of the flute cameto see him. More than three days had elapsed. Lieut.D'Hubert was no longer officier d'ordonnance to thegeneral commanding the division. He had been sentback to his regiment. And he was resuming his con-nection with the soldiers' military family by being shutup in close confinement, not at his own quarters in town,but in a room in the barracks. Owing to the gravity ofthe incident, he was forbidden to see any one. Hedid not know what had happened, what was beingsaid, or what was being thought. The arrival of thesurgeon was a most unexpected thing to the worriedcaptive. The amateur of the flute began by explainingthat he was there only by a special favour of the colonel."I represented to him that it would be only fair to letyou have some authentic news of your adversary," hecontinued. "You'll be glad to hear he's getting betterfast."Lieut. D'Hubert's face exhibited no conventionalsigns of gladness. He continued to walk the floor ofthe dusty bare room."Take this chair, doctor," he mumbled.The doctor sat down."This affair is variously appreciated -- in town and inthe army. In fact, the diversity of opinions is amus-ing.""Is it!" mumbled Lieut. D'Hubert, tramping steadilyfrom wall to wall. But within himself he marvelledthat there could be two opinions on the matter. Thesurgeon continued."Of course, as the real facts are not known --""I should have thought," interrupted D'Hubert, "thatthe fellow would have put you in possession of facts.""He said something," admitted the other, "the firsttime I saw him. And, by the by, I did find him in thegarden. The thump on the back of his head had madehim a little incoherent then. Afterwards he was ratherreticent than otherwise.""Didn't think he would have the grace to beashamed!" mumbled D'Hubert, resuming his pacingwhile the doctor murmured, "It's very amusing.Ashamed! Shame was not exactly his frame of mind.However, you may look at the matter otherwise.""What are you talking about? What matter?"asked D'Hubert, with a sidelong look at the heavy-faced, grey-haired figure seated on a wooden chair."Whatever it is," said the surgeon a little im-patiently, "I don't want to pronounce any opinion onyour conduct --""By heavens, you had better not!" burst out D'Hu-bert."There! -- there! Don't be so quick in flourishingthe sword. It doesn't pay in the long run. Under-stand once for all that I would not carve any of youyoungsters except with the tools of my trade. But myadvice is good. If you go on like this you will make foryourself an ugly reputation.""Go on like what?" demanded Lieut. D'Hubert,stopping short, quite startled. "I! -- I! -- make for my-self a reputation. . . . What do you imagine?""I told you I don't wish to judge of the rights andwrongs of this incident. It's not my business. Never-theless --""What on earth has he been telling you?" interruptedLieut. D'Hubert, in a sort of awed scare."I told you already, that at first, when I picked himup in the garden, he was incoherent. Afterwards hewas naturally reticent. But I gather at least that hecould not help himself.""He couldn't?" shouted Lieut. D'Hubert in a greatvoice. Then, lowering his tone impressively, "Andwhat about me? Could I help myself?"The surgeon stood up. His thoughts were runningupon the flute, his constant companion with a consolingvoice. In the vicinity of field ambulances, after twenty-four hours' hard work, he had been known to troublewith its sweet sounds the horrible stillness of battle-fields, given over to silence and the dead. The solacinghour of his daily life was approaching, and in peace timehe held on to the minutes as a miser to his hoard."Of course! -- of course!" he said, perfunctorily."You would think so. It's amusing. However, beingperfectly neutral and friendly to you both, I have con-sented to deliver his message to you. Say that I amhumouring an invalid if you like. He wants you toknow that this affair is by no means at an end. Heintends to send you his seconds directly he has regainedhis strength -- providing, of course, the army is not inthe field at that time.""He intends, does he? Why, certainly," splutteredLieut. D'Hubert in a passion.The secret of his exasperation was not apparent tothe visitor; but this passion confirmed the surgeon inthe belief which was gaining ground outside that somevery serious difference had arisen between these twoyoung men, something serious enough to wear an air ofmystery, some fact of the utmost gravity. To settletheir urgent difference about that fact, those two youngmen had risked being broken and disgraced at the out-set almost of their career. The surgeon feared that theforthcoming inquiry would fail to satisfy the publiccuriosity. They would not take the public into theirconfidence as to that something which had passedbetween them of a nature so outrageous as to makethem face a charge of murder -- neither more nor less.But what could it be?The surgeon was not very curious by temperament;but that question haunting his mind caused him twicethat evening to hold the instrument off his lips andsit silent for a whole minute -- right in the middle of atune -- trying to form a plausible conjecture.
IIHe succeeded in this object no better than the restof the garrison and the whole of society. The twoyoung officers, of no especial consequence till then, be-came distinguished by the universal curiosity as to theorigin of their quarrel. Madame de Lionne's salon wasthe centre of ingenious surmises; that lady herself wasfor a time assailed by inquiries as being the last personknown to have spoken to these unhappy and recklessyoung men before they went out together from herhouse to a savage encounter with swords, at dusk, in aprivate garden. She protested she had not observedanything unusual in their demeanour. Lieut. Feraudhad been visibly annoyed at being called away. Thatwas natural enough; no man likes to be disturbed in aconversation with a lady famed for her elegance andsensibility. But in truth the subject bored Madamede Lionne, since her personality could by no stretch ofreckless gossip be connected with this affair. And itirritated her to hear it advanced that there might havebeen some woman in the case. This irritation arose,not from her elegance or sensibility, but from a moreinstinctive side of her nature. It became so great atlast that she peremptorily forbade the subject to bementioned under her roof. Near her couch the pro-hibition was obeyed, but farther off in the salon the pallof the imposed silence continued to be lifted more orless. A personage with a long, pale face, resemblingthe countenance of a sheep, opined, shaking his head,that it was a quarrel of long standing envenomed bytime. It was objected to him that the men themselveswere too young for such a theory. They belonged alsoto different and distant parts of France. There wereother physical impossibilities, too. A sub-commissaryof the Intendence, an agreeable and cultivated bachelorin kerseymere breeches, Hessian boots, and a blue coatembroidered with silver lace, who affected to believe inthe transmigration of souls, suggested that the two hadmet perhaps in some previous existence. The feud wasin the forgotten past. It might have been somethingquite inconceivable in the present state of their being;but their souls remembered the animosity, and mani-fested an instinctive antagonism. He developed thistheme jocularly. Yet the affair was so absurd from theworldly, the military, the honourable, or the prudentialpoint of view, that this weird explanation seemedrather more reasonable than any other.The two officers had confided nothing definite toany one. Humiliation at having been worsted armsin hand, and an uneasy feeling of having been involvedin a scrape by the injustice of fate, kept Lieut. Feraudsavagely dumb. He mistrusted the sympathy of man-kind. That would, of course, go to that dandifiedstaff officer. Lying in bed, he raved aloud to the prettymaid who administered to his needs with devotion, andlistened to his horrible imprecations with alarm. ThatLieut. D'Hubert should be made to "pay for it," seemedto her just and natural. Her principal care was thatLieut. Feraud should not excite himself. He appearedso wholly admirable and fascinating to the humility ofher heart that her only concern was to see him get wellquickly, even if it were only to resume his visits toMadame de Lionne's salon.Lieut. D'Hubert kept silent for the immediate reasonthat there was no one, except a stupid young soldierservant, to speak to. Further, he was aware that theepisode, so grave professionally, had its comic side.When reflecting upon it, he still felt that he would liketo wring Lieut. Feraud's neck for him. But this formulawas figurative rather than precise, and expressed morea state of mind than an actual physical impulse. Atthe same time, there was in that young man a feeling ofcomradeship and kindness which made him unwilling tomake the position of Lieut. Feraud worse than it was.He did not want to talk at large about this wretchedaffair. At the inquiry he would have, of course, to speakthe truth in self-defence. This prospect vexed him.But no inquiry took place. The army took the fieldinstead. Lieut. D'Hubert, liberated without remark,took up his regimental duties; and Lieut. Feraud, hisarm just out of the sling, rode unquestioned with hissquadron to complete his convalescence in the smoke ofbattlefields and the fresh air of night bivouacs. Thisbracing treatment suited him so well, that at the firstrumour of an armistice being signed he could turn with-out misgivings to the thoughts of his private warfare.This time it was to be regular warfare. He senttwo friends to Lieut. D'Hubert, whose regiment wasstationed only a few miles away. Those friends hadasked no questions of their principal. "I owe him one,that pretty staff officer," he had said, grimly, and theywent away quite contentedly on their mission. Lieut.D'Hubert had no difficulty in finding two friendsequally discreet and devoted to their principal."There's a crazy fellow to whom I must give a lesson,"he had declared curtly; and they asked for no betterreasons.On these grounds an encounter with duelling-swordswas arranged one early morning in a convenient field.At the third set-to Lieut. D'Hubert found himself lyingon his back on the dewy grass with a hole in his side.A serene sun rising over a landscape of meadows andwoods hung on his left. A surgeon -- not the fluteplayer, but another -- was bending over him, feelingaround the wound."Narrow squeak. But it will be nothing," he pro-nounced.Lieut. D'Hubert heard these words with pleasure.One of his seconds, sitting on the wet grass, and sus-taining his head on his lap, said, "The fortune of war,mon pauvre vieux. What will you have? You had bettermake it up like two good fellows. Do!""You don't know what you ask," murmured Lieut.D'Hubert, in a feeble voice. "However, if he . . ."In another part of the meadow the seconds of Lieut.Feraud were urging him to go over and shake handswith his adversary."You have paid him off now -- que diable. It's theproper thing to do. This D'Hubert is a decent fellow.""I know the decency of these generals' pets,"muttered Lieut. Feraud through his teeth, and thesombre expression of his face discouraged furtherefforts at reconciliation. The seconds, bowing from adistance, took their men off the field. In the afternoonLieut. D'Hubert, very popular as a good comradeuniting great bravery with a frank and equable temper,had many visitors. It was remarked that Lieut.Feraud did not, as is customary, show himself muchabroad to receive the felicitations of his friends. Theywould not have failed him, because he, too, was liked forthe exuberance of his southern nature and the sim-plicity of his character. In all the places where officerswere in the habit of assembling at the end of the day theduel of the morning was talked over from every pointof view. Though Lieut. D'Hubert had got worstedthis time, his sword play was commended. No onecould deny that it was very close, very scientific. Itwas even whispered that if he got touched it was be-cause he wished to spare his adversary. But by manythe vigour and dash of Lieut. Feraud's attack were pro-nounced irresistible.The merits of the two officers as combatants werefrankly discussed; but their attitude to each other afterthe duel was criticised lightly and with caution. Itwas irreconcilable, and that was to be regretted. Butafter all they knew best what the care of their honourdictated. It was not a matter for their comradesto pry into over-much. As to the origin of the quarrel,the general impression was that it dated from the timethey were holding garrison in Strasbourg. The musicalsurgeon shook his head at that. It went much fartherback, he thought."Why, of course! You must know the whole story,"cried several voices, eager with curiosity. "Whatwas it?"He raised his eyes from his glass deliberately. "Evenif I knew ever so well, you can't expect me to tell you,since both the principals choose to say nothing."He got up and went out, leaving the sense of mysterybehind him. He could not stay any longer, because thewitching hour of flute-playing was drawing near.After he had gone a very young officer observedsolemnly, "Obviously, his lips are sealed!"Nobody questioned the high correctness of thatremark. Somehow it added to the impressiveness ofthe affair. Several older officers of both regiments,prompted by nothing but sheer kindness and love ofharmony, proposed to form a Court of Honour, towhich the two young men would leave the task of theirreconciliation. Unfortunately they began by approach-ing Lieut. Feraud, on the assumption that, having justscored heavily, he would be found placable and disposedto moderation.The reasoning was sound enough. Nevertheless, themove turned out unfortunate. In that relaxation ofmoral fibre, which is brought about by the ease ofsoothed vanity, Lieut. Feraud had condescended in thesecret of his heart to review the case, and even had cometo doubt not the justice of his cause, but the absolutesagacity of his conduct. This being so, he was dis-inclined to talk about it. The suggestion of the regi-mental wise men put him in a difficult position. Hewas disgusted at it, and this disgust, by a paradoxicallogic, reawakened his animosity against Lieut. D'Hu-bert. Was he to be pestered with this fellow for ever --the fellow who had an infernal knack of getting roundpeople somehow? And yet it was difficult to refusepoint blank that mediation sanctioned by the code ofhonour.He met the difficulty by an attitude of grim reserve.He twisted his moustache and used vague words. Hiscase was perfectly clear. He was not ashamed tostate it before a proper Court of Honour, neither washe afraid to defend it on the ground. He did not seeany reason to jump at the suggestion before ascertain-ing how his adversary was likely to take it.Later in the day, his exasperation growing upon him,he was heard in a public place saying sardonically, "thatit would be the very luckiest thing for Lieut. D'Hubert,because the next time of meeting he need not hope toget off with the mere trifle of three weeks in bed."This boastful phrase might have been prompted bythe most profound Machiavellism. Southern naturesoften hide, under the outward impulsiveness of actionand speech, a certain amount of astuteness.Lieut. Feraud, mistrusting the justice of men, by nomeans desired a Court of Honour; and the above words,according so well with his temperament, had also themerit of serving his turn. Whether meant so or not,they found their way in less than four-and-twenty hoursinto Lieut. D'Hubert's bedroom. In consequenceLieut. D'Hubert, sitting propped up with pillows, re-ceived the overtures made to him next day by the state-ment that the affair was of a nature which could notbear discussion.The pale face of the wounded officer, his weak voicewhich he had yet to use cautiously, and the courteousdignity of his tone had a great effect on his hearers.Reported outside all this did more for deepening themystery than the vapourings of Lieut. Feraud. Thislast was greatly relieved at the issue. He began toenjoy the state of general wonder, and was pleased toadd to it by assuming an attitude of fierce discretion.The colonel of Lieut. D'Hubert's regiment was agrey-haired, weather-beaten warrior, who took a simpleview of his responsibilities. "I can't," he said to him-self, "let the best of my subalterns get damaged like thisfor nothing. I must get to the bottom of this affairprivately. He must speak out if the devil were in it.The colonel should be more than a father to theseyoungsters." And indeed he loved all his men with asmuch affection as a father of a large family can feel forevery individual member of it. If human beings by anoversight of Providence came into the world as merecivilians, they were born again into a regiment as in-fants are born into a family, and it was that militarybirth alone which counted.At the sight of Lieut. D'Hubert standing before himvery bleached and hollow-eyed the heart of the oldwarrior felt a pang of genuine compassion. All hisaffection for the regiment -- that body of men which heheld in his hand to launch forward and draw back, whoministered to his pride and commanded all his thoughts-- seemed centred for a moment on the person of themost promising subaltern. He cleared his throat in athreatening manner, and frowned terribly. "You mustunderstand," he began, "that I don't care a rap for thelife of a single man in the regiment. I would send theeight hundred and forty-three of you men and horsesgalloping into the pit of perdition with no more com-punction than I would kill a fly!""Yes, Colonel. You would be riding at our head,"said Lieut. D'Hubert with a wan smile.The colonel, who felt the need of being very diplo-matic, fairly roared at this. "I want you to know,Lieut. D'Hubert, that I could stand aside and see youall riding to Hades if need be. I am a man to do eventhat if the good of the service and my duty to mycountry required it from me. But that's unthinkable,so don't you even hint at such a thing." He glaredawfully, but his tone softened. "There's some milkyet about that moustache of yours, my boy. You don'tknow what a man like me is capable of. I would hidebehind a haystack if . . . Don't grin at me, sir!How dare you? If this were not a private conversationI would . . . Look here! I am responsible for theproper expenditure of lives under my command for theglory of our country and the honour of the regiment.Do you understand that? Well, then, what the devil doyou mean by letting yourself be spitted like this by thatfellow of the 7th Hussars? It's simply disgraceful!"Lieut. D'Hubert felt vexed beyond measure. Hisshoulders moved slightly. He made no other answer.He could not ignore his responsibility.The colonel veiled his glance and lowered his voicestill more. "It's deplorable!" he murmured. Andagain he changed his tone. "Come!" he went on,persuasively, but with that note of authority whichdwells in the throat of a good leader of men, "this affairmust be settled. I desire to be told plainly what it isall about. I demand, as your best friend, to know."The compelling power of authority, the persuasiveinfluence of kindness, affected powerfully a man justrisen from a bed of sickness. Lieut. D'Hubert's hand,which grasped the knob of a stick, trembled slightly.But his northern temperament, sentimental yet cautiousand clear-sighted, too, in its idealistic way, checked hisimpulse to make a clean breast of the whole deadlyabsurdity. According to the precept of transcendentalwisdom, he turned his tongue seven times in his mouthbefore he spoke. He made then only a speech ofthanks.The colonel listened, interested at first, then lookedmystified. At last he frowned. "You hesitate? --mille tonnerres! Haven't I told you that I will con-descend to argue with you -- as a friend?""Yes, Colonel!" answered Lieut. D'Hubert, gently."But I am afraid that after you have heard me out as afriend you will take action as my superior officer."The attentive colonel snapped his jaws. "Well,what of that?" he said, frankly. "Is it so damnablydisgraceful?""It is not," negatived Lieut. D'Hubert, in a faint butfirm voice."Of course, I shall act for the good of the service.Nothing can prevent me doing that. What do youthink I want to be told for?""I know it is not from idle curiosity," protestedLieut. D'Hubert. "I know you will act wisely. Butwhat about the good fame of the regiment?""It cannot be affected by any youthful folly of alieutenant," said the colonel, severely."No. It cannot be. But it can be by evil tongues.It will be said that a lieutenant of the 4th Hussars,afraid of meeting his adversary, is hiding behind hiscolonel. And that would be worse than hiding behinda haystack -- for the good of the service. I cannotafford to do that, Colonel.""Nobody would dare to say anything of the kind,"began the colonel very fiercely, but ended the phrase onan uncertain note. The bravery of Lieut. D'Hubertwas well known. But the colonel was well aware thatthe duelling courage, the single combat courage, isrightly or wrongly supposed to be courage of a specialsort. And it was eminently necessary that an officer ofhis regiment should possess every kind of courage -- andprove it, too. The colonel stuck out his lower lip, andlooked far away with a peculiar glazed stare. This wasthe expression of his perplexity -- an expression practi-cally unknown to his regiment; for perplexity is a senti-ment which is incompatible with the rank of colonel ofcavalry. The colonel himself was overcome by theunpleasant novelty of the sensation. As he was notaccustomed to think except on professional mattersconnected with the welfare of men and horses, and theproper use thereof on the field of glory, his intellectualefforts degenerated into mere mental repetitions of pro-fane language. "Mille tonnerres! . . . Sacre nomde nom . . ." he thought.Lieut. D'Hubert coughed painfully, and added in aweary voice: "There will be plenty of evil tongues tosay that I've been cowed. And I am sure you will notexpect me to pass that over. I may find myselfsuddenly with a dozen duels on my hands instead ofthis one affair."The direct simplicity of this argument came home tothe colonel's understanding. He looked at his subordi-nate fixedly. "Sit down, Lieutenant!" he said, gruffly."This is the very devil of a . . . Sit down!""Mon Colonel," D'Hubert began again, "I am notafraid of evil tongues. There's a way of silencing them.But there's my peace of mind, too. I wouldn't be ableto shake off the notion that I've ruined a brother officer.Whatever action you take, it is bound to go farther.The inquiry has been dropped -- let it rest now. Itwould have been absolutely fatal to Feraud.""Hey! What! Did he behave so badly?""Yes. It was pretty bad," muttered Lieut. D'Hubert.Being still very weak, he felt a disposition to cry.As the other man did not belong to his own regimentthe colonel had no difficulty in believing this. He beganto pace up and down the room. He was a good chief, aman capable of discreet sympathy. But he was humanin other ways, too, and this became apparent because hewas not capable of artifice."The very devil, Lieutenant," he blurted out, in theinnocence of his heart, "is that I have declared my in-tention to get to the bottom of this affair. And when acolonel says something . . . you see . . ."Lieut. D'Hubert broke in earnestly: "Let me en-treat you, Colonel, to be satisfied with taking my wordof honour that I was put into a damnable position whereI had no option; I had no choice whatever, consistentwith my dignity as a man and an officer. . . . Afterall, Colonel, this fact is the very bottom of this affair.Here you've got it. The rest is mere detail. . . ."The colonel stopped short. The reputation of Lieut.D'Hubert for good sense and good temper weighed inthe balance. A cool head, a warm heart, open as theday. Always correct in his behaviour. One had totrust him. The colonel repressed manfully an im-mense curiosity. "H'm! You affirm that as a manand an officer. . . . No option? Eh?""As an officer -- an officer of the 4th Hussars, too,"insisted Lieut. D'Hubert, "I had not. And that is thebottom of the affair, Colonel.""Yes. But still I don't see why, to one's colonel. . . .A colonel is a father -- que diable!"Lieut. D'Hubert ought not to have been allowed outas yet. He was becoming aware of his physical in-sufficiency with humiliation and despair. But themorbid obstinacy of an invalid possessed him, and atthe same time he felt with dismay his eyes filling withwater. This trouble seemed too big to handle. A tearfell down the thin, pale cheek of Lieut. D'Hubert.The colonel turned his back on him hastily. Youcould have heard a pin drop. "This is some sillywoman story -- is it not?"Saying these words the chief spun round to seize thetruth, which is not a beautiful shape living in a well, buta shy bird best caught by stratagem. This was the lastmove of the colonel's diplomacy. He saw the truthshining unmistakably in the gesture of Lieut. D'Hubertraising his weak arms and his eyes to heaven in supremeprotest."Not a woman affair -- eh?" growled the colonel,staring hard. "I don't ask you who or where. All Iwant to know is whether there is a woman in it?"Lieut. D'Hubert's arms dropped, and his weak voicewas pathetically broken."Nothing of the kind, mon Colonel.""On your honour?" insisted the old warrior."On my honour.""Very well," said the colonel, thoughtfully, and bithis lip. The arguments of Lieut. D'Hubert, helped byhis liking for the man, had convinced him. On theother hand, it was highly improper that his intervention,of which he had made no secret, should produce novisible effect. He kept Lieut. D'Hubert a few minuteslonger, and dismissed him kindly."Take a few days more in bed. Lieutenant. Whatthe devil does the surgeon mean by reporting you fit forduty?"On coming out of the colonel's quarters, Lieut.D'Hubert said nothing to the friend who was waitingoutside to take him home. He said nothing to anybody.Lieut. D'Hubert made no confidences. But on theevening of that day the colonel, strolling under the elmsgrowing near his quarters, in the company of his secondin command, opened his lips."I've got to the bottom of this affair," he remarked.The lieut.-colonel, a dry, brown chip of a man withshort side-whiskers, pricked up his ears at that withoutletting a sign of curiosity escape him."It's no trifle," added the colonel, oracularly. Theother waited for a long while before he murmured:"Indeed, sir!""No trifle," repeated the colonel, looking straightbefore him. "I've, however, forbidden D'Hubert eitherto send to or receive a challenge from Feraud for thenext twelve months."He had imagined this prohibition to save the prestigea colonel should have. The result of it was to give anofficial seal to the mystery surrounding this deadlyquarrel. Lieut. D'Hubert repelled by an impassivesilence all attempts to worm the truth out of him. Lieut.Feraud, secretly uneasy at first, regained his assuranceas time went on. He disguised his ignorance of themeaning of the imposed truce by slight sardonic laughs,as though he were amused by what he intended to keepto himself. "But what will you do?" his chums usedto ask him. He contented himself by replying "Quivivra verra" with a little truculent air. And everybodyadmired his discretion.Before the end of the truce Lieut. D'Hubert got histroop. The promotion was well earned, but somehowno one seemed to expect the event. When Lieut.Feraud heard of it at a gathering of officers, he mutteredthrough his teeth, "Is that so?" At once he unhookedhis sabre from a peg near the door, buckled it on care-fully, and left the company without another word. Hewalked home with measured steps, struck a light withhis flint and steel, and lit his tallow candle. Thensnatching an unlucky glass tumbler off the mantelpiecehe dashed it violently on the floor.Now that D'Hubert was an officer of superior rankthere could be no question of a duel. Neither of themcould send or receive a challenge without renderinghimself amenable to a court-martial. It was not to bethought of. Lieut. Feraud, who for many days now hadexperienced no real desire to meet Lieut. D'Hubert armsin hand, chafed again at the systematic injustice of fate."Does he think he will escape me in that way?" hethought, indignantly. He saw in this promotion anintrigue, a conspiracy, a cowardly manoeuvre. Thatcolonel knew what he was doing. He had hastened torecommend his favourite for a step. It was outrageousthat a man should be able to avoid the consequences ofhis acts in such a dark and tortuous manner.Of a happy-go-lucky disposition, of a temperamentmore pugnacious than military, Lieut. Feraud had beencontent to give and receive blows for sheer love ofarmed strife, and without much thought of advance-ment; but now an urgent desire to get on sprang up inhis breast. This fighter by vocation resolved in hismind to seize showy occasions and to court the favour-able opinion of his chiefs like a mere worldling. Heknew he was as brave as any one, and never doubted hispersonal charm. Nevertheless, neither the bravery northe charm seemed to work very swiftly. Lieut. Feraud'sengaging, careless truculence of a beau sabreur under-went a change. He began to make bitter allusions to"clever fellows who stick at nothing to get on." Thearmy was full of them, he would say; you had only tolook round. But all the time he had in view one persononly, his adversary, D'Hubert. Once he confided to anappreciative friend: "You see, I don't know how tofawn on the right sort of people. It isn't in my charac-ter."He did not get his step till a week after Austerlitz.The Light Cavalry of the Grand Army had its handsvery full of interesting work for a little while. Directlythe pressure of professional occupation had been easedCaptain Feraud took measures to arrange a meetingwithout loss of time. "I know my bird," he observed,grimly. "If I don't look sharp he will take care toget himself promoted over the heads of a dozen bettermen than himself. He's got the knack for that sort ofthing."This duel was fought in Silesia. If not foughtto a finish, it was, at any rate, fought to a standstill.The weapon was the cavalry sabre, and the skill, thescience, the vigour, and the determination displayed bythe adversaries compelled the admiration of the be-holders. It became the subject of talk on both shoresof the Danube, and as far as the garrisons of Gratz andLaybach. They crossed blades seven times. Both hadmany cuts which bled profusely. Both refused to havethe combat stopped, time after time, with what ap-peared the most deadly animosity. This appearance wascaused on the part of Captain D'Hubert by a rationaldesire to be done once for all with this worry; on thepart of Captain Feraud by a tremendous exaltation ofhis pugnacious instincts and the incitement of woundedvanity. At last, dishevelled, their shirts in rags, coveredwith gore and hardly able to stand, they were led awayforcibly by their marvelling and horrified seconds.Later on, besieged by comrades avid of details, thesegentlemen declared that they could not have allowedthat sort of hacking to go on indefinitely. Askedwhether the quarrel was settled this time, they gave itout as their conviction that it was a difference whichcould only be settled by one of the parties remaininglifeless on the ground. The sensation spread from armycorps to army corps, and penetrated at last to thesmallest detachments of the troops cantoned be-tween the Rhine and the Save. In the cafes in Viennait was generally estimated, from details to hand,that the adversaries would be able to meet again inthree weeks' time on the outside. Something reallytranscendent in the way of duelling was expected.These expectations were brought to naught by thenecessities of the service which separated the twoofficers. No official notice had been taken of theirquarrel. It was now the property of the army, and notto be meddled with lightly. But the story of the duel,or rather their duelling propensities, must have stoodsomewhat in the way of their advancement, becausethey were still captains when they came together againduring the war with Prussia. Detached north afterJena, with the army commanded by Marshal Berna-dotte, Prince of Ponte Corvo, they entered Lubecktogether.It was only after the occupation of that town thatCaptain Feraud found leisure to consider his future con-duct in view of the fact that Captain D'Hubert hadbeen given the position of third aide-de-camp to themarshal. He considered it a great part of a night, andin the morning summoned two sympathetic friends."I've been thinking it over calmly," he said, gazingat them with blood-shot, tired eyes. "I see that I mustget rid of that intriguing personage. Here he's managedto sneak on to the personal staff of the marshal. It's adirect provocation to me. I can't tolerate a situation inwhich I am exposed any day to receive an order throughhim. And God knows what order, too! That sort ofthing has happened once before -- and that's once toooften. He understands this perfectly, never fear. Ican't tell you any more. Now you know what it is youhave to do."This encounter took place outside the town ofLubeck, on very open ground, selected with specialcare in deference to the general sentiment of the cavalrydivision belonging to the army corps, that this time thetwo officers should meet on horseback. After all, thisduel was a cavalry affair, and to persist in fighting onfoot would look like a slight on one's own arm of theservice. The seconds, startled by the unusual nature ofthe suggestion, hastened to refer to their principals.Captain Feraud jumped at it with alacrity. For someobscure reason, depending, no doubt, on his psychology,he imagined himself invincible on horseback. All alonewithin the four walls of his room he rubbed his handsand muttered triumphantly, "Aha! my pretty staffofficer, I've got you now."Captain D'Hubert on his side, after staring hard fora considerable time at his friends, shrugged his shouldersslightly. This affair had hopelessly and unreasonablycomplicated his existence for him. One absurdity moreor less in the development did not matter -- all absurditywas distasteful to him; but, urbane as ever, he produceda faintly ironical smile, and said in his calm voice, "Itcertainly will do away to some extent with the monot-ony of the thing."When left alone, he sat down at a table and took hishead into his hands. He had not spared himself of lateand the marshal had been working all his aides-de-camp particularly hard. The last three weeks ofcampaigning in horrible weather had affected his health.When over-tired he suffered from a stitch in hiswounded side, and that uncomfortable sensation alwaysdepressed him. "It's that brute's doing, too," hethought bitterly.The day before he had received a letter from home,announcing that his only sister was going to be married.He reflected that from the time she was nineteen and hetwenty-six, when he went away to garrison life in Stras-bourg, he had had but two short glimpses of her. Theyhad been great friends and confidants; and now she wasgoing to be given away to a man whom he did not know-- a very worthy fellow no doubt, but not half goodenough for her. He would never see his old Leonieagain. She had a capable little head, and plenty oftact; she would know how to manage the fellow, to besure. He was easy in his mind about her happinessbut he felt ousted from the first place in her thoughtswhich had been his ever since the girl could speak. Amelancholy regret of the days of his childhood settledupon Captain D'Hubert, third aide-de-camp to thePrince of Ponte Corvo.He threw aside the letter of congratulation he hadbegun to write as in duty bound, but without enthusi-asm. He took a fresh piece of paper, and traced on itthe words: "This is my last will and testament." Look-ing at these words he gave himself up to unpleasant re-flection; a presentiment that he would never see thescenes of his childhood weighed down the equablespirits of Captain D'Hubert. He jumped up, pushinghis chair back, yawned elaborately in sign that he didn'tcare anything for presentiments, and throwing himselfon the bed went to sleep. During the night he shiveredfrom time to time without waking up. In the morninghe rode out of town between his two seconds, talking ofindifferent things, and looking right and left with ap-parent detachment into the heavy morning mistsshrouding the flat green fields bordered by hedges. Heleaped a ditch, and saw the forms of many mounted menmoving in the fog. "We are to fight before a gallery, itseems," he muttered to himself, bitterly.His seconds were rather concerned at the state ofthe atmosphere, but presently a pale, sickly sunstruggled out of the low vapours, and Captain D'Hubertmade out, in the distance, three horsemen riding a littleapart from the others. It was Captain Feraud andhis seconds. He drew his sabre, and assured himselfthat it was properly fastened to his wrist. And now theseconds, who had been standing in close group withthe heads of their horses together, separated at an easycanter, leaving a large, clear field between him and hisadversary. Captain D'Hubert looked at the pale sun,at the dismal fields, and the imbecility of the impendingfight filled him with desolation. From a distant part ofthe field a stentorian voice shouted commands at properintervals: Au pas -- Au trot -- Charrrgez! . . . Pre-sentiments of death don't come to a man for nothing, hethought at the very moment he put spurs to his horse.And therefore he was more than surprised when, atthe very first set-to, Captain Feraud laid himself opento a cut over the forehead, which blinding him withblood, ended the combat almost before it had fairlybegun. It was impossible to go on. Captain D'Hubert,leaving his enemy swearing horribly and reeling in thesaddle between his two appalled friends, leaped theditch again into the road and trotted home with his twoseconds, who seemed rather awestruck at the speedyissue of that encounter. In the evening CaptainD'Hubert finished the congratulatory letter on hissister's marriage.He finished it late. It was a long letter. CaptainD'Hubert gave reins to his fancy. He told his sisterthat he would feel rather lonely after this great changein her life; but then the day would come for him, too, toget married. In fact, he was thinking already of thetime when there would be no one left to fight with inEurope and the epoch of wars would be over. "Iexpect then," he wrote, "to be within measurable dis-tance of a marshal's baton, and you will be an ex-perienced married woman. You shall look out a wife forme. I will be, probably, bald by then, and a littleblase. I shall require a young girl, pretty of course, andwith a large fortune, which should help me to close myglorious career in the splendour befitting my exaltedrank." He ended with the information that he hadjust given a lesson to a worrying, quarrelsome fellowwho imagined he had a grievance against him. "Butif you, in the depths of your province," he continued,"ever hear it said that your brother is of a quarrelsomedisposition, don't you believe it on any account. Thereis no saying what gossip from the army may reach yourinnocent ears. Whatever you hear you may rest assuredthat your ever-loving brother is not a duellist." ThenCaptain D'Hubert crumpled up the blank sheet of paperheaded with the words "This is my last will and testa-ment," and threw it in the fire with a great laugh athimself. He didn't care a snap for what that lunaticcould do. He had suddenly acquired the convictionthat his adversary was utterly powerless to affect hislife in any sort of way; except, perhaps, in the way ofputting a special excitement into the delightful, gayintervals between the campaigns.From this on there were, however, to be no peacefulintervals in the career of Captain D'Hubert. He sawthe fields of Eylau and Friedland, marched and counter-marched in the snow, in the mud, in the dust of Polishplains, picking up distinction and advancement on allthe roads of North-eastern Europe. Meantime, Cap-tain Feraud, despatched southwards with his regiment,made unsatisfactory war in Spain. It was only whenthe preparations for the Russian campaign began thathe was ordered north again. He left the country ofmantillas and oranges without regret.The first signs of a not unbecoming baldness addedto the lofty aspect of Colonel D'Hubert's forehead.This feature was no longer white and smooth as in thedays of his youth; the kindly open glance of his blueeyes had grown a little hard as if from much peeringthrough the smoke of battles. The ebony crop onColonel Feraud's head, coarse and crinkly like a cap ofhorsehair, showed many silver threads about thetemples. A detestable warfare of ambushes and in-glorious surprises had not improved his temper. Thebeak-like curve of his nose was unpleasantly set off by adeep fold on each side of his mouth. The round orbitsof his eyes radiated wrinkles. More than ever he re-called an irritable and staring bird -- something like across between a parrot and an owl. He was still ex-tremely outspoken in his dislike of "intriguing fellows."He seized every opportunity to state that he did notpick up his rank in the ante-rooms of marshals. Theunlucky persons, civil or military, who, with an in-tention of being pleasant, begged Colonel Feraud to tellthem how he came by that very apparent scar on theforehead, were astonished to find themselves snubbedin various ways, some of which were simply rude andothers mysteriously sardonic. Young officers werewarned kindly by their more experienced comrades notto stare openly at the colonel's scar. But indeed anofficer need have been very young in his profession notto have heard the legendary tale of that duel originatingin a mysterious, unforgivable offence.
IIIThe retreat from Moscow submerged all privatefeelings in a sea of disaster and misery. Colonelswithout regiments, D'Hubert and Feraud carried themusket in the ranks of the so-called sacred battalion -- abattalion recruited from officers of all arms who had nolonger any troops to lead.In that battalion promoted colonels did duty assergeants; the generals captained the companies; amarshal of France, Prince of the Empire, commandedthe whole. All had provided themselves with musketspicked up on the road, and with cartridges taken fromthe dead. In the general destruction of the bonds ofdiscipline and duty holding together the companies, thebattalions, the regiments, the brigades, and divisions ofan armed host, this body of men put its pride in pre-serving some semblance of order and formation. Theonly stragglers were those who fell out to give up to thefrost their exhausted souls. They plodded on, andtheir passage did not disturb the mortal silence of theplains, shining with the livid light of snows under a skythe colour of ashes. Whirlwinds ran along the fields,broke against the dark column, enveloped it in a tur-moil of flying icicles, and subsided, disclosing it creepingon its tragic way without the swing and rhythm ofthe military pace. It struggled onwards, the men ex-changing neither words nor looks; whole ranks marchedtouching elbow, day after day and never raising theireyes from the ground, as if lost in despairing reflections.In the dumb, black forests of pines the cracking of over-loaded branches was the only sound they heard. Oftenfrom daybreak to dusk no one spoke in the wholecolumn. It was like a macabre march of strugglingcorpses towards a distant grave. Only an alarm ofCossacks could restore to their eyes a semblance ofmartial resolution. The battalion faced about anddeployed, or formed square under the endless flutteringof snowflakes. A cloud of horsemen with fur caps ontheir heads, levelled long lances, and yelled "Hurrah!Hurrah!" around their menacing immobility whence,with muffled detonations, hundreds of dark red flamesdarted through the air thick with falling snow. In avery few moments the horsemen would disappear, asif carried off yelling in the gale, and the sacred battalionstanding still, alone in the blizzard, heard only thehowling of the wind, whose blasts searched their veryhearts. Then, with a cry or two of "Vive l'Empereur!"it would resume its march, leaving behind a few life-less bodies lying huddled up, tiny black specks on thewhite immensity of the snows.Though often marching in the ranks, or skirmishingin the woods side by side, the two officers ignored eachother; this not so much from inimical intention as froma very real indifference. All their store of moral energywas expended in resisting the terrific enmity of natureand the crushing sense of irretrievable disaster. To thelast they counted among the most active, the leastdemoralized of the battalion; their vigorous vitalityinvested them both with the appearance of an heroicpair in the eyes of their comrades. And they neverexchanged more than a casual word or two, except oneday, when skirmishing in front of the battalion againsta worrying attack of cavalry, they found themselves cutoff in the woods by a small party of Cossacks. A scoreof fur-capped, hairy horsemen rode to and fro, brandish-ing their lances in ominous silence; but the two officershad no mind to lay down their arms, and ColonelFeraud suddenly spoke up in a hoarse, growling voice,bringing his firelock to the shoulder. "You take thenearest brute, Colonel D'Hubert; I'll settle the nextone. I am a better shot than you are."Colonel D'Hubert nodded over his levelled musket.Their shoulders were pressed against the trunk of alarge tree; on their front enormous snowdrifts protectedthem from a direct charge. Two carefully aimed shotsrang out in the frosty air, two Cossacks reeled in theirsaddles. The rest, not thinking the game good enough,closed round their wounded comrades and gallopedaway out of range. The two officers managed to rejointheir battalion halted for the night. During that after-noon they had leaned upon each other more than once,and towards the end, Colonel D'Hubert, whose long legsgave him an advantage in walking through soft snow,peremptorily took the musket of Colonel Feraud fromhim and carried it on his shoulder, using his own as astaff.On the outskirts of a village half buried in the snowan old wooden barn burned with a clear and an im-mense flame. The sacred battalion of skeletons,muffled in rags, crowded greedily the windward side,stretching hundreds of numbed, bony hands to theblaze. Nobody had noted their approach. Beforeentering the circle of light playing on the sunken, glassy-eyed, starved faces, Colonel D'Hubert spoke in his turn:"Here's your musket, Colonel Feraud. I can walkbetter than you."Colonel Feraud nodded, and pushed on towards thewarmth of the fierce flames. Colonel D'Hubert wasmore deliberate, but not the less bent on getting a placein the front rank. Those they shouldered aside tried togreet with a faint cheer the reappearance of the twoindomitable companions in activity and endurance.Those manly qualities had never perhaps received ahigher tribute than this feeble acclamation.This is the faithful record of speeches exchangedduring the retreat from Moscow by Colonels Feraud andD'Hubert. Colonel Feraud's taciturnity was the out-come of concentrated rage. Short, hairy, black faced,with layers of grime and the thick sprouting of a wirybeard, a frost-bitten hand wrapped up in filthy ragscarried in a sling, he accused fate of unparalleledperfidy towards the sublime Man of Destiny. ColonelD'Hubert, his long moustaches pendent in icicles oneach side of his cracked blue lips, his eyelids inflamedwith the glare of snows, the principal part of his costumeconsisting of a sheepskin coat looted with difficultyfrom the frozen corpse of a camp follower found in anabandoned cart, took a more thoughtful view of events.His regularly handsome features, now reduced to merebony lines and fleshless hollows, looked out of a woman'sblack velvet hood, over which was rammed forcibly acocked hat picked up under the wheels of an emptyarmy fourgon, which must have contained at one timesome general officer's luggage. The sheepskin coatbeing short for a man of his inches ended very high up,and the skin of his legs, blue with the cold, showedthrough the tatters of his nether garments. Thisunder the circumstances provoked neither jeers norpity. No one cared how the next man felt or looked.Colonel D'Hubert himself, hardened to exposure, suf-fered mainly in his self-respect from the lamentable in-decency of his costume. A thoughtless person maythink that with a whole host of inanimate bodies be-strewing the path of retreat there could not have beenmuch difficulty in supplying the deficiency. But toloot a pair of breeches from a frozen corpse is not so easyas it may appear to a mere theorist. It requires timeand labour. You must remain behind while yourcompanions march on. Colonel D'Hubert had hisscruples as to falling out. Once he had stepped asidehe could not be sure of ever rejoining his battalion; andthe ghastly intimacy of a wrestling match with thefrozen dead opposing the unyielding rigidity of iron toyour violence was repugnant to the delicacy of hisfeelings. Luckily, one day, grubbing in a mound ofsnow between the huts of a village in the hope offinding there a frozen potato or some vegetable garbagehe could put between his long and shaky teeth, ColonelD'Hubert uncovered a couple of mats of the sortRussian peasants use to line the sides of their carts with.These, beaten free of frozen snow, bent about hiselegant person and fastened solidly round his waist,made a bell-shaped nether garment, a sort of stiff petti-coat, which rendered Colonel D'Hubert a perfectlydecent, but a much more noticeable figure than before.Thus accoutred, he continued to retreat, never doubt-ing of his personal escape, but full of other misgivings.The early buoyancy of his belief in the future wasdestroyed. If the road of glory led through such unfore-seen passages, he asked himself -- for he was reflective --whether the guide was altogether trustworthy. It wasa patriotic sadness, not unmingled with some personalconcern, and quite unlike the unreasoning indignationagainst men and things nursed by Colonel Feraud.Recruiting his strength in a little German town for threeweeks, Colonel D'Hubert was surprised to discoverwithin himself a love of repose. His returning vigourwas strangely pacific in its aspirations. He meditatedsilently upon this bizarre change of mood. No doubtmany of his brother officers of field rank went throughthe same moral experience. But these were not thetimes to talk of it. In one of his letters home ColonelD'Hubert wrote, "All your plans, my dear Leonie, formarrying me to the charming girl you have discoveredin your neighbourhood, seem farther off than ever.Peace is not yet. Europe wants another lesson. Itwill be a hard task for us, but it shall be done, becausethe Emperor is invincible."Thus wrote Colonel D 'Hubert from Pomerania tohis married sister Leonie, settled in the south of France.And so far the sentiments expressed would not havebeen disowned by Colonel Feraud, who wrote no lettersto anybody, whose father had been in life an illiterateblacksmith, who had no sister or brother, and whom noone desired ardently to pair off for a life of peace with acharming young girl. But Colonel D 'Hubert's lettercontained also some philosophical generalities upon theuncertainty of all personal hopes, when bound upentirely with the prestigious fortune of one incompar-ably great it is true, yet still remaining but a man inhis greatness. This view would have appeared rankheresy to Colonel Feraud. Some melancholy fore-bodings of a military kind, expressed cautiously, wouldhave been pronounced as nothing short of high treasonby Colonel Feraud. But Leonie, the sister of ColonelD'Hubert, read them with profound satisfaction, and,folding the letter thoughtfully, remarked to herself that"Armand was likely to prove eventually a sensiblefellow." Since her marriage into a Southern family shehad become a convinced believer in the return of thelegitimate king. Hopeful and anxious she offeredprayers night and morning, and burnt candles inchurches for the safety and prosperity of her brother.She had every reason to suppose that her prayerswere heard. Colonel D'Hubert passed through Lutzen,Bautzen, and Leipsic losing no limb, and acquiringadditional reputation. Adapting his conduct to theneeds of that desperate time, he had never voiced hismisgivings. He concealed them under a cheerfulcourtesy of such pleasant character that people wereinclined to ask themselves with wonder whether ColonelD'Hubert was aware of any disasters. Not only hismanners, but even his glances remained untroubled.The steady amenity of his blue eyes disconcerted allgrumblers, and made despair itself pause.This bearing was remarked favourably by theEmperor himself; for Colonel D'Hubert, attached nowto the Major-General's staff, came on several occasionsunder the imperial eye. But it exasperated the higherstrung nature of Colonel Feraud. Passing throughMagdeburg on service, this last allowed himself, whileseated gloomily at dinner with the Commandant dePlace, to say of his life-long adversary: "This man doesnot love the Emperor," and his words were received bythe other guests in profound silence. Colonel Feraud,troubled in his conscience at the atrocity of the asper-sion, felt the need to back it up by a good argument."I ought to know him," he cried, adding some oaths."One studies one's adversary. I have met him on theground half a dozen times, as all the army knows.What more do you want? If that isn't opportunityenough for any fool to size up his man, may the deviltake me if I can tell what is." And he looked aroundthe table, obstinate and sombre.Later on in Paris, while extremely busy reorganizinghis regiment, Colonel Feraud learned that ColonelD'Hubert had been made a general. He glared at hisinformant incredulously, then folded his arms andturned away muttering, "Nothing surprises me on thepart of that man."And aloud he added, speaking over his shoulder,"You would oblige me greatly by telling GeneralD'Hubert at the first opportunity that his advancementsaves him for a time from a pretty hot encounter. Iwas only waiting for him to turn up here."The other officer remonstrated."Could you think of it, Colonel Feraud, at this time,when every life should be consecrated to the glory andsafety of France?"But the strain of unhappiness caused by military re-verses had spoiled Colonel Feraud's character. Likemany other men, he was rendered wicked by misfortune."I cannot consider General D'Hubert's existence ofany account either for the glory or safety of France,"he snapped viciously. "You don't pretend, perhaps, toknow him better than I do -- I who have met him half adozen times on the ground -- do you?"His interlocutor, a young man, was silenced. ColonelFeraud walked up and down the room."This is not the time to mince matters," he said. "Ican't believe that that man ever loved the Emperor.He picked up his general's stars under the boots ofMarshal Berthier. Very well. I'll get mine in anotherfashion, and then we shall settle this business which hasbeen dragging on too long."General D'Hubert, informed indirectly of ColonelFeraud's attitude, made a gesture as if to put aside animportunate person. His thoughts were solicited bygraver cares. He had had no time to go and see hisfamily. His sister, whose royalist hopes were risinghigher every day, though proud of her brother, re-gretted his recent advancement in a measure, because itput on him a prominent mark of the usurper's favour,which later on could have an adverse influence upon hiscareer. He wrote to her that no one but an inveterateenemy could say he had got his promotion by favour.As to his career, he assured her that he looked no fartherforward into the future than the next battlefield.Beginning the campaign of France in this doggedspirit, General D'Hubert was wounded on the secondday of the battle under Laon. While being carried offthe field he heard that Colonel Feraud, promoted thismoment to general, had been sent to replace him at thehead of his brigade. He cursed his luck impulsively,not being able at the first glance to discern all the ad-vantages of a nasty wound. And yet it was by thisheroic method that Providence was shaping his future.Travelling slowly south to his sister's country homeunder the care of a trusty old servant, General D'Hu-bert was spared the humiliating contacts and the per-plexities of conduct which assailed the men of Napole-onic empire at the moment of its downfall. Lying inhis bed, with the windows of his room open wide to thesunshine of Provence, he perceived the undisguisedaspect of the blessing conveyed by that jagged frag-ment of a Prussian shell, which, killing his horse andripping open his thigh, saved him from an active con-flict with his conscience. After the last fourteen yearsspent sword in hand in the saddle, and with the sense ofhis duty done to the very end, General D'Hubert foundresignation an easy virtue. His sister was delightedwith his reasonableness. "I leave myself altogether inyour hands, my dear Leonie," he had said to her.He was still laid up when, the credit of his brother-in-law's family being exerted on his behalf, he receivedfrom the royal government not only the confirmation ofhis rank, but the assurance of being retained on theactive list. To this was added an unlimited conva-lescent leave. The unfavourable opinion entertainedof him in Bonapartist circles, though it rested on noth-ing more solid than the unsupported pronouncement ofGeneral Feraud, was directly responsible for GeneralD'Hubert's retention on the active list. As to GeneralFeraud, his rank was confirmed, too. It was more thanhe dared to expect; but Marshal Soult, then Ministerof War to the restored king, was partial to officers whohad served in Spain. Only not even the marshal'sprotection could secure for him active employment.He remained irreconcilable, idle, and sinister. Hesought in obscure restaurants the company of otherhalf-pay officers who cherished dingy but glorious oldtricolour cockades in their breast-pockets, and buttonedwith the forbidden eagle buttons their shabby uniforms,declaring themselves too poor to afford the expense ofthe prescribed change.The triumphant return from Elba, an historical factas marvellous and incredible as the exploits of somemythological demi-god, found General D'Hubert stillquite unable to sit a horse. Neither could he walkvery well. These disabilities, which Madame Leonieaccounted most lucky, helped to keep her brother out ofall possible mischief. His frame of mind at that time,she noted with dismay, became very far from reason-able. This general officer, still menaced by the loss ofa limb, was discovered one night in the stables of thechateau by a groom, who, seeing a light, raised analarm of thieves. His crutch was lying half-buried inthe straw of the litter, and the general was hopping onone leg in a loose box around a snorting horse he wastrying to saddle. Such were the effects of imperialmagic upon a calm temperament and a pondered mind.Beset in the light of stable lanterns, by the tears, en-treaties, indignation, remonstrances and reproachesof his family, he got out of the difficult situation byfainting away there and then in the arms of his nearestrelatives, and was carried off to bed. Before he gotout of it again, the second reign of Napoleon, theHundred Days of feverish agitation and supremeeffort, passed away like a terrifying dream. Thetragic year 1815, begun in the trouble and unrest ofconsciences, was ending in vengeful proscriptions.How General Feraud escaped the clutches of theSpecial Commission and the last offices of a firing squadhe never knew himself. It was partly due to thesubordinate position he was assigned during the Hun-dred Days. The Emperor had never given him activecommand, but had kept him busy at the cavalrydepot in Paris, mounting and despatching hastilydrilled troopers into the field. Considering this taskas unworthy of his abilities, he had discharged it withno offensively noticeable zeal; but for the greater parthe was saved from the excesses of Royalist reaction bythe interference of General D'Hubert.This last, still on convalescent leave, but able now totravel, had been despatched by his sister to Paris topresent himself to his legitimate sovereign. As no onein the capital could possibly know anything of theepisode in the stable he was received there with distinc-tion. Military to the very bottom of his soul, the pros-pect of rising in his profession consoled him fromfinding himself the butt of Bonapartist malevolence,which pursued him with a persistence he could notaccount for. All the rancour of that embittered andpersecuted party pointed to him as the man who hadnever loved the Emperor -- a sort of monster essentiallyworse than a mere betrayer.General D'Hubert shrugged his shoulders withoutanger at this ferocious prejudice. Rejected by his oldfriends, and mistrusting profoundly the advances ofRoyalist society, the young and handsome general (hewas barely forty) adopted a manner of cold, punctiliouscourtesy, which at the merest shadow of an intendedslight passed easily into harsh haughtiness. Thus pre-pared, General D'Hubert went about his affairs in Parisfeeling inwardly very happy with the peculiar up-lifting happiness of a man very much in love. Thecharming girl looked out by his sister had come uponthe scene, and had conquered him in the thoroughmanner in which a young girl by merely existing in hissight can make a man of forty her own. They were go-ing to be married as soon as General D'Hubert hadobtained his official nomination to a promised com-mand.One afternoon, sitting on the terrasse of the CafeTortoni, General D'Hubert learned from the con-versation of two strangers occupying a table near hisown, that General Feraud, included in the batch ofsuperior officers arrested after the second return of theking, was in danger of passing before the Special Com-mission. Living all his spare moments, as is frequentlythe case with expectant lovers, a day in advance ofreality, and in a state of bestarred hallucination, itrequired nothing less than the name of his perpetualantagonist pronounced in a loud voice to call theyoungest of Napoleon's generals away from themental contemplation of his betrothed. He lookedround. The strangers wore civilian clothes. Lean andweather-beaten, lolling back in their chairs, theyscowled at people with moody and defiant abstractionfrom under their hats pulled low over their eyes. Itwas not difficult to recognize them for two of thecompulsorily retired officers of the Old Guard. Asfrom bravado or carelessness they chose to speak in loudtones, General D'Hubert, who saw no reason why heshould change his seat, heard every word. They didnot seem to be the personal friends of General Feraud.His name came up amongst others. Hearing itrepeated, General D'Hubert's tender anticipations of adomestic future adorned with a woman's grace weretraversed by the harsh regret of his warlike past, ofthat one long, intoxicating clash of arms, unique in themagnitude of its glory and disaster -- the marvellouswork and the special possession of his own generation.He felt an irrational tenderness towards his old adver-sary and appreciated emotionally the murderous ab-surdity their encounter had introduced into his life. Itwas like an additional pinch of spice in a hot dish. Heremembered the flavour with sudden melancholy. Hewould never taste it again. It was all over. "I fancy itwas being left lying in the garden that had exasperatedhim so against me from the first," he thought, indul-gently.The two strangers at the next table had fallen silentafter the third mention of General Feraud's name. Pres-ently the elder of the two, speaking again in a bittertone, affirmed that General Feraud's account was set-tled. And why? Simply because he was not like somebigwigs who loved only themselves. The Royalistsknew they could never make anything of him. Heloved The Other too well.The Other was the Man of St. Helena. The twoofficers nodded and touched glasses before they drankto an impossible return. Then the same who hadspoken before, remarked with a sardonic laugh, "Hisadversary showed more cleverness.""What adversary?" asked the younger, as if puzzled."Don't you know? They were two hussars. Ateach promotion they fought a duel. Haven't you heardof the duel going on ever since 1801?"The other had heard of the duel, of course. Now heunderstood the allusion. General Baron D'Hubertwould be able now to enjoy his fat king's favour inpeace."Much good may it do to him," mumbled the elder."They were both brave men. I never saw this D'Hu-bert -- a sort of intriguing dandy, I am told. But I canwell believe what I've heard Feraud say of him -- thathe never loved the Emperor."They rose and went away.General D'Hubert experienced the horror of a som-nambulist who wakes up from a complacent dream ofactivity to find himself walking on a quagmire. Aprofound disgust of the ground on which he was makinghis way overcame him. Even the image of the charm-ing girl was swept from his view in the flood of moraldistress. Everything he had ever been or hoped to bewould taste of bitter ignominy unless he could manageto save General Feraud from the fate which threatenedso many braves. Under the impulse of this almostmorbid need to attend to the safety of his adversary,General D'Hubert worked so well with hands and feet(as the French saying is), that in less than twenty-fourhours he found means of obtaining an extraordinaryprivate audience from the Minister of Police.General Baron D'Hubert was shown in suddenlywithout preliminaries. In the dusk of the Minister'scabinet, behind the forms of writing-desk, chairs, andtables, between two bunches of wax candles blazing insconces, he beheld a figure in a gorgeous coat posturingbefore a tall mirror. The old conventionnel Fouche;,Senator of the Empire, traitor to every man, to everyprinciple and motive of human conduct. Duke of Otran-to, and the wily artizan of the second Restoration, wastrying the fit of a court suit in which his young andaccomplished fiancee had declared her intention to havehis portrait painted on porcelain. It was a caprice, acharming fancy which the first Minister of Police of thesecond Restoration was anxious to gratify. For thatman, often compared in wiliness of conduct to a fox,but whose ethical side could be worthily symbolizedby nothing less emphatic than a skunk, was as muchpossessed by his love as General D'Hubert himself.Startled to be discovered thus by the blunder of aservant, he met this little vexation with the characteris-tic impudence which had served his turn so well in theendless intrigues of his self-seeking career. Withoutaltering his attitude a hair's-breadth, one leg in a silkstocking advanced, his head twisted over his leftshoulder, he called out calmly, "This way, General.Pray approach. Well? I am all attention."While General D'Hubert, ill at ease as if one of hisown little weaknesses had been exposed, presented hisrequest as shortly as possible, the Duke of Otranto wenton feeling the fit of his collar, settling the lapels beforethe glass, and buckling his back in an effort to beholdthe set of the gold embroidered coat-skirts behind. Hisstill face, his attentive eyes, could not have expressed amore complete interest in those matters if he had beenalone."Exclude from the operations of the Special Courta certain Feraud, Gabriel Florian, General of brigadeof the promotion of 1814?" he repeated, in a slightlywondering tone, and then turned away from the glass."Why exclude him precisely?""I am surprised that your Excellency, so competentin the evaluation of men of his time, should havethought worth while to have that name put down onthe list.""A rabid Bonapartist!""So is every grenadier and every trooper of the army,as your Excellency well knows. And the individualityof General Feraud can have no more weight than thatof any casual grenadier. He is a man of no mentalgrasp, of no capacity whatever. It is inconceivablethat he should ever have any influence.""He has a well-hung tongue, though," interjectedFouche."Noisy, I admit, but not dangerous.""I will not dispute with you. I know next to noth-ing of him. Hardly his name, in fact.""And yet your Excellency has the presidency of theCommission charged by the king to point out those whowere to be tried," said General D'Hubert, with anemphasis which did not miss the minister's ear."Yes, General," he said, walking away into the darkpart of the vast room, and throwing himself into a deeparmchair that swallowed him up, all but the soft gleamof gold embroideries and the pallid patch of the face --"yes, General. Take this chair there."General D'Hubert sat down."Yes, General," continued the arch-master in thearts of intrigue and betrayals, whose duplicity, as if attimes intolerable to his self-knowledge, found relief inbursts of cynical openness. "I did hurry on the forma-tion of the proscribing Commission, and I took its presi-dency. And do you know why? Simply from fearthat if I did not take it quickly into my hands my ownname would head the list of the proscribed. Such arethe times in which we live. But I am minister of theking yet, and I ask you plainly why I should take thename of this obscure Feraud off the list? You wonderhow his name got there! Is it possible that you shouldknow men so little? My dear General, at the veryfirst sitting of the Commission names poured on us likerain off the roof of the Tuileries. Names! We had ourchoice of thousands. How do you know that the nameof this Feraud, whose life or death don't matter toFrance, does not keep out some other name?"The voice out of the armchair stopped. OppositeGeneral D'Hubert sat still, shadowy and silent. Onlyhis sabre clinked slightly. The voice in the armchairbegan again. "And we must try to satisfy the exigenciesof the Allied Sovereigns, too. The Prince de Talleyrandtold me only yesterday that Nesselrode had informedhim officially of His Majesty the Emperor Alexander'sdissatisfaction at the small number of examples theGovernment of the king intends to make -- especiallyamongst military men. I tell you this confidentially.""Upon my word!" broke out General D'Hubert,speaking through his teeth, "if your Excellency deignsto favour me with any more confidential information Idon't know what I will do. It's enough to break one'ssword over one's knee, and fling the pieces. . . .""What government you imagined yourself to beserving?" interrupted the minister, sharply.After a short pause the crestfallen voice of GeneralD'Hubert answered, "The Government of France.""That's paying your conscience off with mere words,General. The truth is that you are serving a govern-ment of returned exiles, of men who have been withoutcountry for twenty years. Of men also who have justgot over a very bad and humiliating fright. . . .Have no illusions on that score."The Duke of Otranto ceased. He had relieved him-self, and had attained his object of stripping some self-respect off that man who had inconveniently discoveredhim posturing in a gold-embroidered court costumebefore a mirror. But they were a hot-headed lot in thearmy; it occurred to him that it would be inconvenientif a well-disposed general officer, received in audienceon the recommendation of one of the Princes, were todo something rashly scandalous directly after a pri-vate interview with the minister. In a changed tonehe put a question to the point: "Your relation -- thisFeraud?""No. No relation at all.""Intimate friend?""Intimate . . . yes. There is between us anintimate connection of a nature which makes it a pointof honour with me to try . . ."The minister rang a bell without waiting for the endof the phrase. When the servant had gone out, afterbringing in a pair of heavy silver candelabra for thewriting-desk, the Duke of Otranto rose, his breast glis-tening all over with gold in the strong light, and taking apiece of paper out of a drawer, held it in his hand osten-tatiously while he said with persuasive gentleness:"You must not speak of breaking your sword acrossyour knee, General. Perhaps you would never getanother. The Emperor will not return this time. . . .Diable d'homme! There was just a moment, here inParis, soon after Waterloo, when he frightened me.It looked as though he were ready to begin all overagain. Luckily one never does begin all over again,really. You must not think of breaking your sword,General."General D'Hubert, looking on the ground, movedslightly his hand in a hopeless gesture of renunciation.The Minister of Police turned his eyes away from him,and scanned deliberately the paper he had been holdingup all the time."There are only twenty general officers selected tobe made an example of. Twenty. A round number.And let's see, Feraud. . . . Ah, he's there. Ga-briel Florian. Parfaitement. That's your man. Well,there will be only nineteen examples made now."General D'Hubert stood up feeling as though he hadgone through an infectious illness. "I must beg yourExcellency to keep my interference a profound secret.I attach the greatest importance to his never learn-ing . . .""Who is going to inform him, I should like to know?"said Fouche, raising his eyes curiously to GeneralD'Hubert's tense, set face. "Take one of these pens,and run it through the name yourself. This is theonly list in existence. If you are careful to take upenough ink no one will be able to tell what was thename struck out. But, par exemple, I am not responsi-ble for what Clarke will do with him afterwards. If hepersists in being rabid he will be ordered by the Ministerof War to reside in some provincial town under thesupervision of the police."A few days later General D'Hubert was saying to hissister, after the first greetings had been got over: "Ah,my dear Leonie! it seemed to me I couldn't get awayfrom Paris quick enough.""Effect of love," she suggested, with a malicioussmile."And horror," added General D'Hubert, with pro-found seriousness. "I have nearly died there of . . .of nausea."His face was contracted with disgust. And as hissister looked at him attentively he continued, "I havehad to see Fouche. I have had an audience. I havebeen in his cabinet. There remains with one, who hadthe misfortune to breathe the air of the same room withthat man, a sense of diminished dignity, an uneasy feel-ing of being not so clean, after all, as one hoped onewas. . . . But you can't understand."She nodded quickly several times. She understoodvery well, on the contrary. She knew her brotherthoroughly, and liked him as he was. Moreover, thescorn and loathing of mankind were the lot of theJacobin Fouche, who, exploiting for his own advantageevery weakness, every virtue, every generous illusion ofmankind, made dupes of his whole generation, and diedobscurely as Duke of Otranto."My dear Armand," she said, compassionately, "whatcould you want from that man?""Nothing less than a life," answered GeneralD'Hubert. "And I've got it. It had to be done. ButI feel yet as if I could never forgive the necessity to theman I had to save."General Feraud, totally unable (as is the case withmost of us) to comprehend what was happening to him,received the Minister of War's order to proceed at onceto a small town of Central France with feelings whosenatural expression consisted in a fierce rolling of the eyeand savage grinding of the teeth. The passing away ofthe state of war, the only condition of society he hadever known, the horrible view of a world at peace,frightened him. He went away to his little town firmlyconvinced that this could not last. There he was in-formed of his retirement from the army, and that hispension (calculated on the scale of a colonel's rank) wasmade dependent on the correctness of his conduct, andon the good reports of the police. No longer in thearmy! He felt suddenly strange to the earth, like adisembodied spirit. It was impossible to exist. Butat first he reacted from sheer incredulity. This couldnot be. He waited for thunder, earthquakes, naturalcataclysms; but nothing happened. The leaden weightof an irremediable idleness descended upon GeneralFeraud, who having no resources within himself sankinto a state of awe-inspiring hebetude. He haunted thestreets of the little town, gazing before him with lack-lustre eyes, disregarding the hats raised on his passage;and people, nudging each other as he went by, whispered,"That's poor General Feraud. His heart is broken.Behold how he loved the Emperor."The other living wreckage of Napoleonic tempestclustered round General Feraud with infinite respect.He, himself, imagined his soul to be crushed by grief.He suffered from quickly succeeding impulses to weep,to howl, to bite his fists till blood came, to spend days onhis bed with his head thrust under the pillow; but thesearose from sheer ennui, from the anguish of an immense,indescribable, inconceivable boredom. His mental in-ability to grasp the hopeless nature of his case as awhole saved him from suicide. He never even thoughtof it once. He thought of nothing. But his appetiteabandoned him, and the difficulty he experienced toexpress the overwhelming nature of his feelings (themost furious swearing could do no justice to it) inducedgradually a habit of silence -- a sort of death to asouthern temperament.Great, therefore, was the sensation amongst the an-ciens militaires frequenting a certain little cafe; full of flieswhen one stuffy afternoon "that poor General Feraud"let out suddenly a volley of formidable curses.He had been sitting quietly in his own privilegedcorner looking through the Paris gazettes with just asmuch interest as a condemned man on the eve of exe-cution could be expected to show in the news of the day.Aill find out presently that I am alive yet," he declared,in a dogmatic tone. "However, this is a private affair.An old affair of honour. Bah! Our honour does notmatter. Here we are driven off with a split ear like alot of cast troop horses -- good only for a knacker'syard. But it would be like striking a blow for theEmperor. . . . Messieurs, I shall require the assis-tance of two of you."Every man moved forward. General Feraud, deeplytouched by this demonstration, called with visibleemotion upon the one-eyed veteran cuirassier and theofficer of the Chasseurs a Cheval who had left the tip ofhis nose in Russia. He excused his choice to the others."A cavalry affair this -- you know."He was answered with a varied chorus of "Parfaite-ment, mon General. . . . C'est juste. . . . Par-bleu, c'est connu. . . ." Everybody was satisfied.The three left the cafe together, followed by cries of"Bonne chance."Outside they linked arms, the general in the middle.The three rusty cocked hats worn en bataille with asinister forward slant barred the narrow street nearlyright across. The overheated little town of grey stonesand red tiles was drowsing away its provincial afternoonunder a blue sky. The loud blows of a cooper hoopinga cask reverberated regularly between the houses. Thegeneral dragged his left foot a little in the shade of thewalls."This damned winter of 1813 has got into my bonesfor good. Never mind. We must take pistols, that'sall. A little lumbago. We must have pistols. He'sgame for my bag. My eyes are as keen as ever. Youshould have seen me in Russia picking off the dodgingCossacks with a beastly old infantry musket. I have anatural gift for firearms."In this strain General Feraud ran on, holding up hishead, with owlish eyes and rapacious beak. A merefighter all his life, a cavalry man, a sabreur, he conceivedwar with the utmost simplicity, as, in the main, a massedlot of personal contests, a sort of gregarious duelling.And here he had in hand a war of his own. He revived.The shadow of peace passed away from him like theshadow of death. It was the marvellous resurrection ofthe named Feraud, Gabriel Florian, engage volontaireof 1793, General of 1814, buried without ceremony bymeans of a service order signed by the War Ministerof the Second Restoration.
IVNo man succeeds in everything he undertakes. Inthat sense we are all failures. The great point is notto fail in ordering and sustaining the effort of our life.In this matter vanity is what leads us astray. It hurriesus into situations from which we must come out dam-aged; whereas pride is our safeguard, by the reserve itimposes on the choice of our endeavour as much as bythe virtue of its sustaining power.General D'Hubert was proud and reserved. He hadnot been damaged by his casual love affairs, successfulor otherwise. In his war-scarred body his heart at fortyremained unscratched. Entering with reserve into hissister's matrimonial plans, he had felt himself fallingirremediably in love as one falls off a roof. He was tooproud to be frightened. Indeed, the sensation was toodelightful to be alarming.The inexperience of a man of forty is a much moreserious thing than the inexperience of a youth of twenty,for it is not helped out by the rashness of hot blood.The girl was mysterious, as young girls are by themere effect of their guarded ingenuity; and to him themysteriousness of that young girl appeared exceptionaland fascinating. But there was nothing mysteriousabout the arrangements of the match which MadameLeonie had promoted. There was nothing peculiar,either. It was a very appropriate match, commendingitself extremely to the young lady's mother (the fatherwas dead) and tolerable to the young lady's uncle -- anold emigre lately returned from Germany, and pervad-ing, cane in hand, a lean ghost of the ancien regime, thegarden walks of the young lady's ancestral home.General D'Hubert was not the man to be satisfiedmerely with the woman and the fortune -- when it cameto the point. His pride (and pride aims always at truesuccess) would be satisfied with nothing short of love.But as true pride excludes vanity, he could not imagineany reason why this mysterious creature with deep andbrilliant eyes of a violet colour should have any feelingfor him warmer than indifference. The young lady (hername was Adele) baffled every attempt at a clear under-standing on that point. It is true that the attemptswere clumsy and made timidly, because by then GeneralD'Hubert had become acutely aware of the number ofhis years, of his wounds, of his many moral imperfec-tions, of his secret unworthiness -- and had incidentallylearned by experience the meaning of the word funk.As far as he could make out she seemed to imply that,with an unbounded confidence in her mother's affectionand sagacity, she felt no unsurmountable dislike for theperson of General D'Hubert; and that this was quitesufficient for a well-brought-up young lady to beginmarried life upon. This view hurt and tormented thepride of General D'Hubert. And yet he asked himself,with a sort of sweet despair, what more could he expect?She had a quiet and luminous forehead. Her violet eyeslaughed while the lines of her lips and chin remainedcomposed in admirable gravity. All this was set off bysuch a glorious mass of fair hair, by a complexion somarvellous, by such a grace of expression, that GeneralD'Hubert really never found the opportunity to examinewith sufficient detachment the lofty exigencies of hispride. In fact, he became shy of that line of inquirysince it had led once or twice to a crisis of solitary pas-sion in which it was borne upon him that he loved herenough to kill her rather than lose her. From suchpassages, not unknown to men of forty, he would comeout broken, exhausted, remorseful, a little dismayed.He derived, however, considerable comfort from thequietist practice of sitting now and then half the nightby an open window and meditating upon the wonderof her existence, like a believer lost in the mystic con-templation of his faith.It must not be supposed that all these variations ofhis inward state were made manifest to the world.General D 'Hubert found no difficulty in appearingwreathed in smiles. Because, in fact, he was veryhappy. He followed the established rules of his condi-tion, sending over flowers (from his sister's garden andhot-houses) early every morning, and a little later fol-lowing himself to lunch with his intended, her mother,and her emigre uncle. The middle of the day was spentin strolling or sitting in the shade. A watchful defer-ence, trembling on the verge of tenderness was the noteof their intercourse on his side -- with a playful turn ofthe phrase concealing the profound trouble of his wholebeing caused by her inaccessible nearness. Late in theafternoon General D 'Hubert walked home between thefields of vines, sometimes intensely miserable, some-times supremely happy, sometimes pensively sad; butalways feeling a special intensity of existence, that ela-tion common to artists, poets, and lovers -- to menhaunted by a great passion, a noble thought, or a newvision of plastic beauty.The outward world at that time did not exist withany special distinctness for General D'Hubert. Oneevening, however, crossing a ridge from which he couldsee both houses, General D'Hubert became aware of twofigures far down the road. The day had been divine.The festal decoration of the inflamed sky lent a gentleglow to the sober tints of the southern land. The greyrocks, the brown fields, the purple, undulating distancesharmonized in luminous accord, exhaled already thescents of the evening. The two figures down the roadpresented themselves like two rigid and wooden sil-houettes all black on the ribbon of white dust. GeneralD'Hubert made out the long, straight, military capotesbuttoned closely right up to the black stocks, the cockedhats, the lean, carven, brown countenances -- old soldiers-- vieilles moustaches! The taller of the two had ablack patch over one eye; the other's hard, dry coun-tenance presented some bizarre, disquieting peculiarity,which on nearer approach proved to be the absence ofthe tip of the nose. Lifting their hands with one move-ment to salute the slightly lame civilian walking with athick stick, they inquired for the house where the Gen-eral Baron D'Hubert lived, and what was the best wayto get speech with him quietly."If you think this quiet enough," said GeneralD'Hubert, looking round at the vine-fields, framed inpurple lines, and dominated by the nest of grey anddrab walls of a village clustering around the top of aconical hill, so that the blunt church tower seemed butthe shape of a crowning rock -- "if you think this spotquiet enough, you can speak to him at once. And Ibeg you, comrades, to speak openly, with perfect con-fidence."They stepped back at this, and raised again theirhands to their hats with marked ceremoniousness.Then the one with the chipped nose, speaking for both,remarked that the matter was confidential enough, andto be arranged discreetly. Their general quarters wereestablished in that village over there, where the infernalclodhoppers -- damn their false, Royalist hearts! -- lookedremarkably cross-eyed at three unassuming militarymen. For the present he should only ask for the nameof General D'Hubert's friends."What friends?" said the astonished General D'Hu-bert, completely off the track. "I am staying with mybrother-in-law over there.""Well, he will do for one," said the chipped veteran."We're the friends of General Feraud," interjectedthe other, who had kept silent till then, only gloweringwith his one eye at the man who had never loved theEmperor. That was something to look at. For eventhe gold-laced Judases who had sold him to the English,the marshals and princes, had loved him at some time orother. But this man had never loved the Emperor.General Feraud had said so distinctly.General D'Hubert felt an inward blow in his chest.For an infinitesimal fraction of a second it was as ifthe spinning of the earth had become perceptible withan awful, slight rustle in the eternal stillness of space.But this noise of blood in his ears passed off at once.Involuntarily he murmured, "Feraud! I had forgottenhis existence.""He's existing at present, very uncomfortably, it istrue, in the infamous inn of that nest of savages upthere," said the one-eyed cuirassier, drily. "We arrivedin your parts an hour ago on post horses. He's awaitingour return with impatience. There is hurry, you know.The General has broken the ministerial order to obtainfrom you the satisfaction he's entitled to by the laws ofhonour, and naturally he's anxious to have it all overbefore the gendarmerie gets on his scent."The other elucidated the idea a little further. "Getback on the quiet -- you understand? Phitt! No onethe wiser. We have broken out, too. Your friend theking would be glad to cut off our scurvy pittances at thefirst chance. It's a risk. But honour before every-thing."General D'Hubert had recovered his powers ofspeech. "So you come here like this along the roadto invite me to a throat-cutting match with that --that . . ." A laughing sort of rage took possessionof him. "Ha! ha! ha! ha!"His fists on his hips, he roared without restraint, whilethey stood before him lank and straight, as though theyhad been shot up with a snap through a trap door in theground. Only four-and-twenty months ago the mas-ters of Europe, they had already the air of antiqueghosts, they seemed less substantial in their faded coatsthan their own narrow shadows falling so black acrossthe white road: the military and grotesque shadows oftwenty years of war and conquests. They had an out-landish appearance of two imperturbable bonzes of thereligion of the sword. And General D'Hubert, also oneof the ex-masters of Europe, laughed at these seriousphantoms standing in his way.Said one, indicating the laughing General with a jerkof the head: "A merry companion, that.""There are some of us that haven't smiled from theday The Other went away," remarked his comrade.A violent impulse to set upon and beat those unsub-stantial wraiths to the ground frightened GeneralD'Hubert. He ceased laughing suddenly. His desirenow was to get rid of them, to get them away from hissight quickly before he lost control of himself. Hewondered at the fury he felt rising in his breast. Buthe had no time to look into that peculiarity just then."I understand your wish to be done with me asquickly as possible. Don't let us waste time in emptyceremonies. Do you see that wood there at the foot ofthat slope? Yes, the wood of pines. Let us meet thereto-morrow at sunrise. I will bring with me my swordor my pistols, or both if you like."The seconds of General Feraud looked at each other."Pistols, General," said the cuirassier."So be it. Au revoir -- to-morrow morning. Tillthen let me advise you to keep close if you don't wantthe gendarmerie making inquiries about you before itgets dark. Strangers are rare in this part of the coun-try."They saluted in silence. General D'Hubert, turninghis back on their retreating forms, stood still in themiddle of the road for a long time, biting his lower lipand looking on the ground. Then he began to walkstraight before him, thus retracing his steps till he foundhimself before the park gate of his intended's house.Dusk had fallen. Motionless he stared through thebars at the front of the house, gleaming clear beyond thethickets and trees. Footsteps scrunched on the gravel,and presently a tall stooping shape emerged from thelateral alley following the inner side of the park wall.Le Chevalier de Valmassigue, uncle of the adorableAdele, ex-brigadier in the army of the Princes, book-binder in Altona, afterwards shoemaker (with a greatreputation for elegance in the fit of ladies' shoes) inanother small German town, wore silk stockings on hislean shanks, low shoes with silver buckles, a brocadedwaistcoat. A long-skirted coat, a la francaise, coveredloosely his thin, bowed back. A small three-corneredhat rested on a lot of powdered hair, tied in a queue."Monsieur le Chevalier," called General D'Hubert,softly."What? You here again, mon ami? Have youforgotten something?""By heavens! that's just it. I have forgotten some-thing. I am come to tell you of it. No -- outside.Behind this wall. It's too ghastly a thing to be let inat all where she lives."The Chevalier came out at once with that benevolentresignation some old people display towards the fugueof youth. Older by a quarter of a century than GeneralD'Hubert, he looked upon him in the secret of his heartas a rather troublesome youngster in love. He hadheard his enigmatical words very well, but attached noundue importance to what a mere man of forty so hardhit was likely to do or say. The turn of mind of thegeneration of Frenchmen grown up during the years ofhis exile was almost unintelligible to him. Their senti-ments appeared to him unduly violent, lacking finenessand measure, their language needlessly exaggerated.He joined calmly the General on the road, and theymade a few steps in silence, the General trying to masterhis agitation, and get proper control of his voice."It is perfectly true; I forgot something. I forgottill half an hour ago that I had an urgent affair of honouron my hands. It's incredible, but it is so!"All was still for a moment. Then in the profoundevening silence of the countryside the clear, aged voiceof the Chevalier was heard trembling slightly: "Mon-sieur! That's an indignity."It was his first thought. The girl born during hisexile, the posthumous daughter of his poor brother mur-dered by a band of Jacobins, had grown since his returnvery dear to his old heart, which had been starving onmere memories of affection for so many years. "It isan inconceivable thing, I say! A man settles such af-fairs before he thinks of asking for a young girl's hand.Why! If you had forgotten for ten days longer, youwould have been married before your memory returnedto you. In my time men did not forget such things --nor yet what is due to the feelings of an innocent youngwoman. If I did not respect them myself, I wouldqualify your conduct in a way which you would notlike."General D'Hubert relieved himself frankly by agroan. "Don't let that consideration prevent you.You run no risk of offending her mortally."But the old man paid no attention to this lover'snonsense. It's doubtful whether he even heard."What is it? "he asked. "What's the nature of . . . ?""Call it a youthful folly, Monsieur le Chevalier. Aninconceivable, incredible result of . . ." He stoppedshort. "He will never believe the story," he thought."He will only think I am taking him for a fool, and getoffended." General D'Hubert spoke up again: "Yes,originating in youthful folly, it has become . . ."The Chevalier interrupted: "Well, then it must bearranged.""Arranged?""Yes, no matter at what cost to your amour propre.You should have remembered you were engaged. Youforgot that, too, I suppose. And then you go and forgetyour quarrel. It's the most hopeless exhibition of levityI ever heard of.""Good heavens, Monsieur! You don't imagine Ihave been picking up this quarrel last time I was inParis, or anything of the sort, do you?""Eh! What matters the precise date of your insaneconduct," exclaimed the Chevalier, testily. "The prin-cipal thing is to arrange it."Noticing General D'Hubert getting restive and try-ing to place a word, the old emigre raised his hand, andadded with dignity, "I've been a soldier, too. I wouldnever dare suggest a doubtful step to the man whosename my niece is to bear. I tell you that entre galantshommes an affair can always be arranged.""But saperiotte, Monsieur le Chevalier, it's fifteen orsixteen years ago. I was a lieutenant of hussars then."The old Chevalier seemed confounded by the vehe-mently despairing tone of this information. "Youwere a lieutenant of hussars sixteen years ago," he mum-bled in a dazed manner."Why, yes! You did not suppose I was made ageneral in my cradle like a royal prince."In the deepening purple twilight of the fields spreadwith vine leaves, backed by a low band of sombre crim-son in the west, the voice of the old ex-officer in the armyof the Princes sounded collected, punctiliously civil."Do I dream? Is this a pleasantry? Or am I tounderstand that you have been hatching an affair ofhonour for sixteen years?""It has clung to me for that length of time. That ismy precise meaning. The quarrel itself is not to beexplained easily. We met on the ground several timesduring that time, of course.""What manners! What horrible perversion of man-liness! Nothing can account for such inhumanity butthe sanguinary madness of the Revolution which hastainted a whole generation," mused the returned emigrein a low tone. "Who's your adversary?" he asked alittle louder."My adversary? His name is Feraud."Shadowy in his tricorne and old-fashioned clothes,like a bowed, thin ghost of the ancien regime, the Cheva-lier voiced a ghostly memory. "I can remember thefeud about little Sophie Derval, between Monsieurde Brissac, Captain in the Bodyguards, and d'Anjorrant(not the pock-marked one, the other -- the Beaud'Anjorrant, as they called him). They met three timesin eighteen months in a most gallant manner. It wasthe fault of that little Sophie, too, who would keep onplaying . . .""This is nothing of the kind," interrupted GeneralD'Hubert. He laughed a little sardonically. "Not atall so simple," he added. "Nor yet half so reasonable,"he finished, inaudibly, between his teeth, and groundthem with rage.After this sound nothing troubled the silence for along time, till the Chevalier asked, without animation:"What is he -- this Feraud?""Lieutenant of hussars, too -- I mean, he's a general.A Gascon. Son of a blacksmith, I believe.""There! I thought so. That Bonaparte had aspecial predilection for the canaille. I don't mean thisfor you, D'Hubert. You are one of us, though you haveserved this usurper, who . . .""Let's leave him out of this," broke in General D'Hu-bert.The Chevalier shrugged his peaked shoulders. "Fe-raud of sorts. Offspring of a blacksmith and somevillage troll. See what comes of mixing yourself upwith that sort of people.""You have made shoes yourself, Chevalier.""Yes. But I am not the son of a shoemaker. Neitherare you, Monsieur D'Hubert. You and I have some-thing that your Bonaparte's princes, dukes, and mar-shals have not, because there's no power on earth thatcould give it to them," retorted the emigre, with therising animation of a man who has got hold of a hopefulargument. "Those people don't exist -- all these Fe-rauds. Feraud! What is Feraud? A va-nu-pieds dis-guised into a general by a Corsican adventurer mas-querading as an emperor. There is no earthly reasonfor a D'Hubert to s'encanailler by a duel with a personof that sort. You can make your excuses to him per-fectly well. And if the manant takes into his head todecline them, you may simply refuse to meet him.""You say I may do that?""I do. With the clearest conscience.""Monsieur le Chevalier! To what do you think youhave returned from your emigration?"This was said in such a startling tone that the oldman raised sharply his bowed head, glimmering silverywhite under the points of the little tricorne. For a timehe made no sound."God knows!" he said at last, pointing with a slowand grave gesture at a tall roadside cross mounted on ablock of stone, and stretching its arms of forged iron allblack against the darkening red band in the sky -- "Godknows! If it were not for this emblem, which I remem-ber seeing on this spot as a child, I would wonder towhat we who remained faithful to God and our kinghave returned. The very voices of the people havechanged.""Yes, it is a changed France," said General D'Hu-bert. He seemed to have regained his calm. His tonewas slightly ironic. "Therefore I cannot take youradvice. Besides, how is one to refuse to be bitten by adog that means to bite? It's impracticable. Take myword for it -- Feraud isn't a man to be stayed by apolo-gies or refusals. But there are other ways. I could,for instance, send a messenger with a word to the briga-dier of the gendarmerie in Senlac. He and his twofriends are liable to arrest on my simple order. Itwould make some talk in the army, both the organizedand the disbanded -- especially the disbanded. Allcanaille! All once upon a time the companions inarms of Armand D'Hubert. But what need a D'Hu-bert care what people that don't exist may think? Or,better still, I might get my brother-in-law to send forthe mayor of the village and give him a hint. No morewould be needed to get the three 'brigands' set uponwith flails and pitchforks and hunted into some nice,deep, wet ditch -- and nobody the wiser! It has beendone only ten miles from here to three poor devils of thedisbanded Red Lancers of the Guard going to theirhomes. What says your conscience, Chevalier? Cana D'Hubert do that thing to three men who do notexist?"A few stars had come out on the blue obscurity,clear as crystal, of the sky. The dry, thin voice of theChevalier spoke harshly: "Why are you telling me allthis?"The General seized the withered old hand with astrong grip. "Because I owe you my fullest confidence.Who could tell Adele but you? You understand why Idare not trust my brother-in-law nor yet my own sister.Chevalier! I have been so near doing these things thatI tremble yet. You don't know how terrible this duelappears to me. And there's no escape from it."He murmured after a pause, "It's a fatality,"dropped the Chevalier's passive hand, and said in hisordinary conversational voice, "I shall have to go with-out seconds. If it is my lot to remain on the ground,you at least will know all that can be made known ofthis affair."The shadowy ghost of the ancien regime seemed tohave become more bowed during the conversation."How am I to keep an indifferent face this eveningbefore these two women?" he groaned. "General! Ifind it very difficult to forgive you."General D 'Hubert made no answer."Is your cause good, at least?""I am innocent."This time he seized the Chevalier's ghostly armabove the elbow, and gave it a mighty squeeze. "Imust kill him!" he hissed, and opening his hand strodeaway down the road.The delicate attentions of his adoring sister hadsecured for the General perfect liberty of movement inthe house where he was a guest. He had even his ownentrance through a small door in one corner of theorangery. Thus he was not exposed that evening tothe necessity of dissembling his agitation before thecalm ignorance of the other inmates. He was glad ofit. It seemed to him that if he had to open his lips hewould break out into horrible and aimless imprecations,start breaking furniture, smashing china and glass.From the moment he opened the private door andwhile ascending the twenty-eight steps of a windingstaircase, giving access to the corridor on which his roomopened, he went through a horrible and humiliatingscene in which an infuriated madman with blood-shoteyes and a foaming mouth played inconceivable havocwith everything inanimate that may be found in a well-appointed dining-room. When he opened the door ofhis apartment the fit was over, and his bodily fatiguewas so great that he had to catch at the backs of thechairs while crossing the room to reach a low and broaddivan on which he let himself fall heavily. His moralprostration was still greater. That brutality of feelingwhich he had known only when charging the enemy,sabre in hand, amazed this man of forty, who did notrecognize in it the instinctive fury of his menacedpassion. But in his mental and bodily exhaustion thispassion got cleared, distilled, refined into a sentiment ofmelancholy despair at having, perhaps, to die before hehad taught this beautiful girl to love him.That night, General D'Hubert stretched out on hisback with his hands over his eyes, or lying on his breastwith his face buried in a cushion, made the full pil-grimage of emotions. Nauseating disgust at the absur-dity of the situation, doubt of his own fitness to conducthis existence, and mistrust of his best sentiments (forwhat the devil did he want to go to Fouche for?) -- heknew them all in turn. "I am an idiot, neither morenor less," he thought -- "A sensitive idiot. Because Ioverheard two men talking in a cafe. . . . I am anidiot afraid of lies -- whereas in life it is only truth thatmatters."Several times he got up and, walking in his socks inorder not to be heard by anybody downstairs, drank allthe water he could find in the dark. And he tasted thetorments of jealousy, too. She would marry somebodyelse. His very soul writhed. The tenacity of thatFeraud, the awful persistence of that imbecile brute,came to him with the tremendous force of a relentlessdestiny. General D'Hubert trembled as he put downthe empty water ewer. "He will have me," he thought.General D'Hubert was tasting every emotion that lifehas to give. He had in his dry mouth the faint sicklyflavour of fear, not the excusable fear before a younggirl's candid and amused glance, but the fear of deathand the honourable man's fear of cowardice.But if true courage consists in going out to meet anodious danger from which our body, soul, and heartrecoil together, General D'Hubert had the opportunityto practise it for the first time in his life. He hadcharged exultingly at batteries and at infantry squares,and ridden with messages through a hail of bullets with-out thinking anything about it. His business now wasto sneak out unheard, at break of day, to an obscureand revolting death. General D'Hubert never hesi-tated. He carried two pistols in a leather bag which heslung over his shoulder. Before he had crossed thegarden his mouth was dry again. He picked twooranges. It was only after shutting the gate after himthat he felt a slight faintness.He staggered on, disregarding it, and after going afew yards regained the command of his legs. In thecolourless and pellucid dawn the wood of pines de-tached its columns of trunks and its dark green canopyvery clearly against the rocks of the grey hillside. Hekept his eyes fixed on it steadily, and sucked at anorange as he walked. That temperamental good-humoured coolness in the face of danger which hadmade him an officer liked by his men and appreciatedby his superiors was gradually asserting itself. It waslike going into battle. Arriving at the edge of thewood he sat down on a boulder, holding the other orangein his hand, and reproached himself for coming soridiculously early on the ground. Before very long,however, he heard the swishing of bushes, footsteps onthe hard ground, and the sounds of a disjointed, loudconversation. A voice somewhere behind him saidboastfully, "He's game for my bag."He thought to himself, "Here they are. What's thisabout game? Are they talking of me?" And becom-ing aware of the other orange in his hand, he thoughtfurther, "These are very good oranges. Leonie's owntree. I may just as well eat this orange now instead offlinging it away."Emerging from a wilderness of rocks and bushes,General Feraud and his seconds discovered GeneralD'Hubert engaged in peeling the orange. They stoodstill, waiting till he looked up. Then the secondsraised their hats, while General Feraud, putting hishands behind his back, walked aside a little way."I am compelled to ask one of you, messieurs, to actfor me. I have brought no friends. Will you?"The one-eyed cuirassier said judicially, "That cannotbe refused."The other veteran remarked, "It's awkward all thesame.""Owing to the state of the people's minds in thispart of the country there was no one I could trust safelywith the object of your presence here," explainedGeneral D'Hubert, urbanely.They saluted, looked round, and remarked bothtogether:"Poor ground.""It's unfit.""Why bother about ground, measurements, and soon? Let us simplify matters. Load the two pairs ofpistols. I will take those of General Feraud, and lethim take mine. Or, better still, let us take a mixedpair. One of each pair. Then let us go into the woodand shoot at sight, while you remain outside. We didnot come here for ceremonies, but for war -- war to thedeath. Any ground is good enough for that. If I fall,you must leave me where I lie and clear out. Itwouldn't be healthy for you to be found hanging abouthere after that."It appeared after a short parley that General Feraudwas willing to accept these conditions. While theseconds were loading the pistols, he could be heardwhistling, and was seen to rub his hands with perfectcontentment. He flung off his coat briskly, andGeneral D 'Hubert took off his own and folded it care-fully on a stone."Suppose you take your principal to the other sideof the wood and let him enter exactly in ten minutesfrom now," suggested General D'Hubert, calmly, butfeeling as if he were giving directions for his own execu-tion. This, however, was his last moment of weakness."Wait. Let us compare watches first."He pulled out his own. The officer with the chippednose went over to borrow the watch of General Feraud.They bent their heads over them for a time."That's it. At four minutes to six by yours. Sevento by mine."It was the cuirassier who remained by the side ofGeneral D'Hubert, keeping his one eye fixed immovablyon the white face of the watch he held in the palm ofhis hand. He opened his mouth, waiting for the beatof the last second long before he snapped out the word,"Avancez."General D'Hubert moved on, passing from the glaringsunshine of the Provencal morning into the cool andaromatic shade of the pines. The ground was clearbetween the reddish trunks, whose multitude, leaningat slightly different angles, confused his eye at first. Itwas like going into battle. The commanding qualityof confidence in himself woke up in his breast. He wasall to his affair. The problem was how to kill theadversary. Nothing short of that would free himfrom this imbecile nightmare. "It's no use woundingthat brute," thought General D'Hubert. He wasknown as a resourceful officer. His comrades years agoused also to call him The Strategist. And it was a factthat he could think in the presence of the enemy.Whereas Feraud had been always a mere fighter -- but adead shot, unluckily."I must draw his fire at the greatest possible range,"said General D'Hubert to himself.At that moment he saw something white moving faroff between the trees -- the shirt of his adversary. Hestepped out at once between the trunks, exposing him-self freely; then, quick as lightning, leaped back. Ithad been a risky move but it succeeded in its object.Almost simultaneously with the pop of a shot a smallpiece of bark chipped off by the bullet stung his earpainfully.General Feraud, with one shot expended, was gettingcautious. Peeping round the tree, General D'Hubertcould not see him at all. This ignorance of the foe'swhereabouts carried with it a sense of insecurity.General D'Hubert felt himself abominably exposed onhis flank and rear. Again something white flutteredin his sight. Ha! The enemy was still on his front,then. He had feared a turning movement. Butapparently General Feraud was not thinking of it.General D'Hubert saw him pass without special hastefrom one tree to another in the straight line of approach.With great firmness of mind General D'Hubert stayedhis hand. Too far yet. He knew he was no marksman.His must be a waiting game -- to kill.Wishing to take advantage of the greater thicknessof the trunk, he sank down to the ground. Extendedat full length, head on to his enemy, he had his personcompletely protected. Exposing himself would notdo now, because the other was too near by this time.A conviction that Feraud would presently do somethingrash was like balm to General D'Hubert's soul. Butto keep his chin raised off the ground was irksome,and not much use either. He peeped round, exposinga fraction of his head with dread, but really withlittle risk. His enemy, as a matter of fact, did notexpect to see anything of him so far down as that.General D'Hubert caught a fleeting view of GeneralFeraud shifting trees again with deliberate cau-tion. "He despises my shooting," he thought, dis-playing that insight into the mind of his antagonistwhich is of such great help in winning battles. He wasconfirmed in his tactics of immobility. "If I could onlywatch my rear as well as my front!" he thought anx-iously, longing for the impossible.It required some force of character to lay his pistolsdown; but, on a sudden impulse, General D'Hubert didthis very gently -- one on each side of him. In the armyhe had been looked upon as a bit of a dandy because heused to shave and put on a clean shirt on the days ofbattle. As a matter of fact, he had always been verycareful of his personal appearance. In a man of nearlyforty, in love with a young and charming girl, thispraiseworthy self-respect may run to such little weak-nesses as, for instance, being provided with an elegantlittle leather folding-case containing a small ivorycomb, and fitted with a piece of looking-glass onthe outside. General D'Hubert, his hands being free,felt in his breeches' pockets for that implement ofinnocent vanity excusable in the possessor of long, silkymoustaches. He drew it out, and then with the ut-most coolness and promptitude turned himself over onhis back. In this new attitude, his head a little raised,holding the little looking-glass just clear of his tree, hesquinted into it with his left eye, while the right kept adirect watch on the rear of his position. Thus wasproved Napoleon's saying, that "for a French soldier,the word impossible does not exist." He had the righttree nearly filling the field of his little mirror."If he moves from behind it," he reflected withsatisfaction, "I am bound to see his legs. But in anycase he can't come upon me unawares."And sure enough he saw the boots of General Feraudflash in and out, eclipsing for an instant everything elsereflected in the little mirror. He shifted its positionaccordingly. But having to form his judgment of thechange from that indirect view he did not realize thatnow his feet and a portion of his legs were in plain sightof General Feraud.General Feraud had been getting gradually impressedby the amazing cleverness with which his enemy waskeeping cover. He had spotted the right tree withbloodthirsty precision. He was absolutely certain of it.And yet he had not been able to glimpse as much asthe tip of an ear. As he had been looking for it at theheight of about five feet ten inches from the ground itwas no great wonder -- but it seemed very wonderful toGeneral Feraud.The first view of these feet and legs determined a rushof blood to his head. He literally staggered behindhis tree, and had to steady himself against it with hishand. The other was lying on the ground, then! Onthe ground! Perfectly still, too! Exposed! What couldit mean? . . . The notion that he had knockedover his adversary at the first shot entered thenGeneral Feraud's head. Once there it grew withevery second of attentive gazing, overshadowing everyother supposition -- irresistible, triumphant, ferocious."What an ass I was to think I could have missedhim," he muttered to himself. "He was exposed enplein -- the fool! -- for quite a couple of seconds."General Feraud gazed at the motionless limbs, thelast vestiges of surprise fading before an unboundedadmiration of his own deadly skill with the pistol."Turned up his toes! By the god of war, that wasa shot!" he exulted mentally. "Got it through thehead, no doubt, just where I aimed, staggered behindthat tree, rolled over on his back, and died."And he stared! He stared, forgetting to move,almost awed, almost sorry. But for nothing in theworld would he have had it undone. Such a shot! --such a shot! Rolled over on his back and died!For it was this helpless position, lying on the back,that shouted its direct evidence at General Feraud!It never occurred to him that it might have beendeliberately assumed by a living man. It was in-conceivable. It was beyond the range of sane sup-position. There was no possibility to guess the reasonfor it. And it must be said, too, that General D'Hu-bert's turned-up feet looked thoroughly dead. GeneralFeraud expanded his lungs for a stentorian shout to hisseconds, but, from what he felt to be an excessivescrupulousness, refrained for a while."I will just go and see first whether he breathesyet," he mumbled to himself, leaving carelessly theshelter of his tree. This move was immediately per-ceived by the resourceful General D'Hubert. Heconcluded it to be another shift, but when he lost theboots out of the field of the mirror he became uneasy.General Feraud had only stepped a little out of the line,but his adversary could not possibly have supposed himwalking up with perfect unconcern. General D'Hubert,beginning to wonder at what had become of the other,was taken unawares so completely that the first warningof danger consisted in the long, early-morning shadowof his enemy falling aslant on his outstretched legs.He had not even heard a footfall on the soft groundbetween the trees!It was too much even for his coolness. He jumpedup thoughtlessly, leaving the pistols on the ground. Theirresistible instinct of an average man (unless totallyparalyzed by discomfiture) would have been to stoopfor his weapons, exposing himself to the risk of beingshot down in that position. Instinct, of course, is irre-flective. It is its very definition. But it may be aninquiry worth pursuing whether in reflective mankindthe mechanical promptings of instinct are not affectedby the customary mode of thought. In his young days,Armand D'Hubert, the reflective, promising officer, hademitted the opinion that in warfare one should "nevercast back on the lines of a mistake." This idea, de-fended and developed in many discussions, had settledinto one of the stock notions of his brain, had become apart of his mental individuality. Whether it had goneso inconceivably deep as to affect the dictates of hisinstinct, or simply because, as he himself declared after-wards, he was "too scared to remember the confoundedpistols," the fact is that General D'Hubert never at-tempted to stoop for them. Instead of going back onhis mistake, he seized the rough trunk with both hands,and swung himself behind it with such impetuositythat, going right round in the very flash and report ofthe pistol-shot, he reappeared on the other side of thetree face to face with General Feraud. This last, com-pletely unstrung by such a show of agility on the partof a dead man, was trembling yet. A very faint mist ofsmoke hung before his face which had an extraordinaryaspect, as if the lower jaw had come unhinged."Not missed!" he croaked, hoarsely, from the depthsof a dry throat.This sinister sound loosened the spell that had fallenon General D'Hubert's senses. "Yes, missed -- a boutportant," he heard himself saying, almost before he hadrecovered the full command of his faculties. The re-vulsion of feeling was accompanied by a gust of homi-cidal fury, resuming in its violence the accumulatedresentment of a lifetime. For years General D 'Huberthad been exasperated and humiliated by an atrociousabsurdity imposed upon him by this man's savagecaprice. Besides, General D'Hubert had been in thislast instance too unwilling to confront death for thereaction of his anguish not to take the shape of a desireto kill. "And I have my two shots to fire yet," headded, pitilessly.General Feraud snapped-to his teeth, and his faceassumed an irate, undaunted expression. "Go on!" hesaid, grimly.These would have been his last words if GeneralD'Hubert had been holding the pistols in his hands.But the pistols were lying on the ground at the footof a pine. General D'Hubert had the second ofleisure necessary to remember that he had dreadeddeath not as a man, but as a lover; not as a danger, butas a rival; not as a foe to life, but as an obstacle tomarriage. And behold! there was the rival defeated! --utterly defeated, crushed, done for!He picked up the weapons mechanically, and, insteadof firing them into General Feraud's breast, he gaveexpression to the thoughts uppermost in his mind, "Youwill fight no more duels now."His tone of leisurely, ineffable satisfaction was toomuch for General Feraud's stoicism. "Don't dawdle,then, damn you for a cold-blooded staff-coxcomb!" heroared out, suddenly, out of an impassive face held erecton a rigidly still body.General D'Hubert uncocked the pistols carefully.This proceeding was observed with mixed feelings bythe other general. "You missed me twice," the victorsaid, coolly, shifting both pistols to one hand; "the lasttime within a foot or so. By every rule of single com-bat your life belongs to me. That does not mean that Iwant to take it now.""I have no use for your forbearance," mutteredGeneral Feraud, gloomily."Allow me to point out that this is no concern ofmine," said General D'Hubert, whose every word wasdictated by a consummate delicacy of feeling. In angerhe could have killed that man, but in cold blood herecoiled from humiliating by a show of generosity thisunreasonable being -- a fellow-soldier of the GrandeArmee, a companion in the wonders and terrors of thegreat military epic. "You don't set up the pretension ofdictating to me what I am to do with what's my own."General Feraud looked startled, and the other con-tinued, "You've forced me on a point of honour to keepmy life at your disposal, as it were, for fifteen years.Very well. Now that the matter is decided to my ad-vantage, I am going to do what I like with your lifeon the same principle. You shall keep it at my dis-posal as long as I choose. Neither more nor less. Youare on your honour till I say the word.""I am! But, sacrebleu! This is an absurd positionfor a General of the Empire to be placed in!" criedGeneral Feraud, in accents of profound and dismayedconviction. "It amounts to sitting all the rest of mylife with a loaded pistol in a drawer waiting for yourword. It's -- it's idiotic; I shall be an object of -- of --derision.""Absurd? -- idiotic? Do you think so?" queriedGeneral D'Hubert with sly gravity. "Perhaps. But Idon't see how that can be helped. However, I am notlikely to talk at large of this adventure. Nobody needever know anything about it. Just as no one to this day,I believe, knows the origin of our quarrel. . . .Not a word more," he added, hastily. "I can't reallydiscuss this question with a man who, as far as I amconcerned, does not exist."When the two duellists came out into the open, Gen-eral Feraud walking a little behind, and rather with theair of walking in a trance, the two seconds hurriedtowards them, each from his station at the edge of thewood. General D'Hubert addressed them, speakingloud and distinctly, "Messieurs, I make it a point ofdeclaring to you solemnly, in the presence of GeneralFeraud, that our difference is at last settled for good.You may inform all the world of that fact.""A reconciliation, after all!" they exclaimed to-gether."Reconciliation? Not that exactly. It is some-thing much more binding. Is it not so, General?"General Feraud only lowered his head in sign ofassent. The two veterans looked at each other. Laterin the day, when they found themselves alone out oftheir moody friend's earshot, the cuirassier remarkedsuddenly, "Generally speaking, I can see with my oneeye as far as most people; but this beats me. He won'tsay anything.""In this affair of honour I understand there has beenfrom first to last always something that no one in thearmy could quite make out," declared the chasseur withthe imperfect nose. "In mystery it began, in mysteryit went on, in mystery it is to end, apparently."General D'Hubert walked home with long, hastystrides, by no means uplifted by a sense of triumph.He had conquered, yet it did not seem to him thathe had gained very much by his conquest. Thenight before he had grudged the risk of his life whichappeared to him magnificent, worthy of preservation asan opportunity to win a girl's love. He had knownmoments when, by a marvellous illusion, this loveseemed to be already his, and his threatened life a stillmore magnificent opportunity of devotion. Now thathis life was safe it had suddenly lost its special mag-nificence. It had acquired instead a specially alarmingaspect as a snare for the exposure of unworthiness. Asto the marvellous illusion of conquered love that hadvisited him for a moment in the agitated watches of thenight, which might have been his last on earth, he com-prehended now its true nature. It had been merelya paroxysm of delirious conceit. Thus to this man,sobered by the victorious issue of a duel, life appearedrobbed of its charm, simply because it was no longermenaced.Approaching the house from the back, through theorchard and the kitchen garden, he could not notice theagitation which reigned in front. He never met a singlesoul. Only while walking softly along the corridor, hebecame aware that the house was awake and morenoisy than usual. Names of servants were being calledout down below in a confused noise of coming and going.With some concern he noticed that the door of his ownroom stood ajar, though the shutters had not beenopened yet. He had hoped that his early excursionwould have passed unperceived. He expected to findsome servant just gone in; but the sunshine filteringthrough the usual cracks enabled him to see lying onthe low divan something bulky, which had the appear-ance of two women clasped in each other's arms. Tear-ful and desolate murmurs issued mysteriously from thatappearance. General D'Hubert pulled open the near-est pair of shutters violently. One of the women thenjumped up. It was his sister. She stood for a momentwith her hair hanging down and her arms raised straightup above her head, and then flung herself with a stifledcry into his arms. He returned her embrace, trying atthe same time to disengage himself from it. The otherwoman had not risen. She seemed, on the contrary, tocling closer to the divan, hiding her face in the cushions.Her hair was also loose; it was admirably fair. Gen-eral D'Hubert recognized it with staggering emotion.Mademoiselle de Valmassigue! Adele! In distress!He became greatly alarmed, and got rid of his sis-ter's hug definitely. Madame Leonie then extendedher shapely bare arm out of her peignoir, pointingdramatically at the divan. "This poor, terrified childhas rushed here from home, on foot, two miles -- runningall the way.""What on earth has happened?" asked GeneralD'Hubert in a low, agitated voice.But Madame Leonie was speaking loudly. "Sherang the great bell at the gate and roused all the house-hold -- we were all asleep yet. You may imagine whata terrible shock. . . . Adele, my dear child, sit up."General D'Hubert's expression was not that of aman who "imagines" with facility. He did, however,fish out of the chaos of surmises the notion that hisprospective mother-in-law had died suddenly, but onlyto dismiss it at once. He could not conceive the natureof the event or the catastrophe which would induceMademoiselle de Valmassigue, living in a house full ofservants, to bring the news over the fields herself, twomiles, running all the way."But why are you in this room?" he whispered, fullof awe."Of course, I ran up to see, and this child . . . Idid not notice it . . . she followed me. It's thatabsurd Chevalier," went on Madame Leonie, lookingtowards the divan. . . . "Her hair is all come down.You may imagine she did not stop to call her maid todress it before she started. . . Adele, my dear, situp. . . . He blurted it all out to her at half-past fivein the morning. She woke up early and opened hershutters to breathe the fresh air, and saw him sitting col-lapsed on a garden bench at the end of the great alley.At that hour -- you may imagine! And the eveningbefore he had declared himself indisposed. She hurriedon some clothes and flew down to him. One would beanxious for less. He loves her, but not very intelli-gently. He had been up all night, fully dressed, thepoor old man, perfectly exhausted. He wasn't in astate to invent a plausible story. . . . What a con-fidant you chose there! My husband was furious. Hesaid, 'We can't interfere now.' So we sat down to wait.It was awful. And this poor child running with herhair loose over here publicly! She has been seen bysome people in the fields. She has roused the wholehousehold, too. It's awkward for her. Luckily youare to be married next week. . . . Adele, sit up. Hehas come home on his own legs. . . . We expectedto see you coming on a stretcher, perhaps -- what doI know? Go and see if the carriage is ready. I musttake this child home at once. It isn't proper for her tostay here a minute longer."General D'Hubert did not move. It was as thoughhe had heard nothing. Madame Leonie changed hermind. "I will go and see myself," she cried. "I wantalso my cloak. -- Adele --" she began, but did not add"sit up." She went out saying, in a very loud andcheerful tone: "I leave the door open."General D'Hubert made a movement towards thedivan, but then Adele sat up, and that checked himdead. He thought, "I haven't washed this morning. Imust look like an old tramp. There's earth on the backof my coat and pine-needles in my hair." It occurredto him that the situation required a good deal of circum-spection on his part."I am greatly concerned, mademoiselle," he began,vaguely, and abandoned that line. She was sitting upon the divan with her cheeks unusually pink and herhair, brilliantly fair, falling all over her shoulders --which was a very novel sight to the general. He walkedaway up the room, and looking out of the window forsafety said, "I fear you must think I behaved like amadman," in accents of sincere despair. Then he spunround, and noticed that she had followed him withher eyes. They were not cast down on meeting hisglance. And the expression of her face was novel tohim also. It was, one might have said, reversed.Those eyes looked at him with grave thoughtful-ness, while the exquisite lines of her mouth seemedto suggest a restrained smile. This change made hertranscendental beauty much less mysterious, much moreaccessible to a man's comprehension. An amazing easeof mind came to the general -- and even some ease ofmanner. He walked down the room with as muchpleasurable excitement as he would have found in walk-ing up to a battery vomiting death, fire, and smoke;then stood looking down with smiling eyes at the girlwhose marriage with him (next week) had been socarefully arranged by the wise, the good, the admirableLeonie."Ah! mademoiselle," he said, in a tone of courtlyregret, "if only I could be certain that you did notcome here this morning, two miles, running all the way,merely from affection for your mother!"He waited for an answer imperturbable but inwardlyelated. It came in a demure murmur, eyelashes low-ered with fascinating effect. "You must not be me-chant as well as mad."And then General D'Hubert made an aggressivemovement towards the divan which nothing couldcheck. That piece of furniture was not exactly in theline of the open door. But Madame Leonie, comingback wrapped up in a light cloak and carrying a laceshawl on her arm for Adele to hide her incriminatinghair under, had a swift impression of her brother gettingup from his knees."Come along, my dear child," she cried from thedoorway.The general, now himself again in the fullest sense,showed the readiness of a resourceful cavalry officer andthe peremptoriness of a leader of men. "You don'texpect her to walk to the carriage," he said, indignantly."She isn't fit. I shall carry her downstairs."This he did slowly, followed by his awed and re-spectful sister; but he rushed back like a whirlwind towash off all the signs of the night of anguish and themorning of war, and to put on the festive garments ofa conqueror before hurrying over to the other house.Had it not been for that, General D 'Hubert felt capableof mounting a horse and pursuing his late adversary inorder simply to embrace him from excess of happiness."I owe it all to this stupid brute," he thought. "Hehas made plain in a morning what might have taken meyears to find out -- for I am a timid fool. No self-confi-dence whatever. Perfect coward. And the Chevalier!Delightful old man!" General D'Hubert longed toembrace him also.The Chevalier was in bed. For several days hewas very unwell. The men of the Empire and thepost-revolution young ladies were too much for him.He got up the day before the wedding, and, being curi-ous by nature, took his niece aside for a quiet talk. Headvised her to find out from her husband the true storyof the affair of honour, whose claim, so imperative andso persistent, had led her to within an ace of tragedy."It is right that his wife should be told. And nextmonth or so will be your time to learn from him any-thing you want to know, my dear child."Later on, when the married couple came on a visit tothe mother of the bride, Madame la Generale D'Hubertcommunicated to her beloved old uncle the true storyshe had obtained without any difficulty from her hus-band.The Chevalier listened with deep attention to theend, took a pinch of snuff, flicked the grains of tobaccofrom the frilled front of his shirt, and asked, calmly, "Andthat's all it was?""Yes, uncle," replied Madame la Generale, openingher pretty eyes very wide. "Isn't it funny? C'estinsense -- to think what men are capable of!""H'm!" commented the old emigre. "It dependswhat sort of men. That Bonaparte's soldiers weresavages. It is insense. As a wife, my dear, you mustbelieve implicitly what your husband says."But to Leonie's husband the Chevalier confided histrue opinion. "If that's the tale the fellow made upfor his wife, and during the honeymoon, too, you maydepend on it that no one will ever know now the secretof this affair."Considerably later still, General D'Hubert judgedthe time come, and the opportunity propitious to writea letter to General Feraud. This letter began by dis-claiming all animosity. "I've never," wrote theGeneral Baron D'Hubert, "wished for your death dur-ing all the time of our deplorable quarrel. Allow me,"he continued, "to give you back in all form your for-feited life. It is proper that we two, who have beenpartners in so much military glory, should be friendly toeach other publicly."The same letter contained also an item of domesticinformation. It was in reference to this last thatGeneral Feraud answered from a little village on thebanks of the Garonne, in the following words:"If one of your boy's names had been Napoleon -- orJoseph -- or even Joachim, I could congratulate you onthe event with a better heart. As you have thoughtproper to give him the names of Charles Henri Armand,I am confirmed in my conviction that you neverloved the Emperor. The thought of that sublime herochained to a rock in the middle of a savage ocean makeslife of so little value that I would receive with positivejoy your instructions to blow my brains out. Fromsuicide I consider myself in honour debarred. But Ikeep a loaded pistol in my drawer."Madame la Generale D'Hubert lifted up her handsin despair after perusing that answer."You see? He won't be reconciled," said her hus-band. "He must never, by any chance, be allowed toguess where the money comes from. It wouldn't do.He couldn't bear it.""You are a brave homme, Armand,"said Madame laGenerale, appreciatively."My dear, I had the right to blow his brains out;but as I didn't, we can't let him starve. He has losthis pension and he is utterly incapable of doing any-thing in the world for himself. We must take care ofhim, secretly, to the end of his days. Don't I owe himthe most ecstatic moment of my life? . . . Ha! ha!ha! Over the fields, two miles, running all the way!I couldn't believe my ears! . . . But for his stupidferocity, it would have taken me years to find you out.It's extraordinary how in one way or another this manhas managed to fasten himself on my deeper feelings."[from A Set of Six]
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