clean breast of the whole deadly absurdity. According to the precept of transcendental wisdom, he turned his tongue seven times in his mouth before he spoke. He made then only a speech of thanks.
The colonel listened, interested at first, then looked mystified. At last he frowned. “You hesitate? — mille tonnerres! Haven’t I told you that I will condescend 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 a friend you will take action as my superior officer.”
The attentive colonel snapped his jaws. “Well, what of that?” he said, frankly. “Is it so damnably disgraceful?”
“It is not,” negatived Lieut. D’Hubert, in a faint but firm voice.
“Of course, I shall act for the good of the service. Nothing can prevent me doing that. What do you think I want to be told for?”
“I know it is not from idle curiosity,” protested Lieut. D’Hubert. “I know you will act wisely. But what about the good fame of the regiment?”
“It cannot be affected by any youthful folly of a lieutenant,” 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 his colonel. And that would be worse than hiding behind a haystack — for the good of the service. I cannot afford to do that, Colonel.”
“Nobody would dare to say anything of the kind,” began the colonel very fiercely, but ended the phrase on an uncertain note. The bravery of Lieut. D’Hubert was well known. But the colonel was well aware that the duelling courage, the single combat courage, is rightly or wrongly supposed to be courage of a special sort. And it was eminently necessary that an officer of his regiment should possess every kind of courage — and prove it, too. The colonel stuck out his lower lip, and looked far away with a peculiar glazed stare. This was the expression of his perplexity — an expression practically unknown to his regiment; for perplexity is a sentiment which is incompatible with the rank of colonel of cavalry. The colonel himself was overcome by the unpleasant novelty of the sensation. As he was not accustomed to think except on professional matters connected with the welfare of men and horses, and the proper use thereof on the field of glory, his intellectual efforts degenerated into mere mental repetitions of profane language. “Mille tonnerres! … Sacre nom de nom …” he thought.
Lieut. D’Hubert coughed painfully, and added in a weary voice: “There will be plenty of evil tongues to say that I’ve been cowed. And I am sure you will not expect me to pass that over. I may find myself suddenly with a dozen duels on my hands instead of this one affair.”
The direct simplicity of this argument came home to the colonel’s understanding. He looked at his subordinate fixedly. “Sit down, Lieutenant!” he said, gruffly. “This is the very devil of a … Sit down!”
“Mon Colonel,” D’Hubert began again, “I am not afraid of evil tongues. There’s a way of silencing them. But there’s my peace of mind, too. I wouldn’t be able to 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. It would 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 regiment the colonel had no difficulty in believing this. He began to pace up and down the room. He was a good chief, a man capable of discreet sympathy. But he was human in other ways, too, and this became apparent because he was not capable of artifice.
“The very devil, Lieutenant,” he blurted out, in the innocence of his heart, “is that I have declared my intention to get to the bottom of this affair. And when a colonel says something … you see …”
Lieut. D’Hubert broke in earnestly: “Let me entreat you, Colonel, to be satisfied with taking my word of honour that I was put into a damnable position where I had no option; I had no choice whatever, consistent with my dignity as a man and an officer… . After all, 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 in the balance. A cool head, a warm heart, open as the day. Always correct in his behaviour. One had to trust him. The colonel repressed manfully an immense curiosity. “H’m! You affirm that as a man and 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 the bottom 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 out as yet. He was becoming aware of his physical in- sufficiency with humiliation and despair. But the morbid obstinacy of an invalid possessed him, and at the same time he felt with dismay his eyes filling with water. This trouble seemed too big to handle. A tear fell down the thin, pale cheek of Lieut. D’Hubert.
The colonel turned his back on him hastily. You could have heard a pin drop. “This is some silly woman story — is it not?”
Saying these words the chief spun round to seize the truth, which is not a beautiful shape living in a well, but a shy bird best caught by stratagem. This was the last move of the colonel’s diplomacy. He saw the truth shining unmistakably in the gesture of Lieut. D’Hubert raising his weak arms and his eyes to heaven in supreme protest.
“Not a woman affair — eh?” growled the colonel, staring hard. “I don’t ask you who or where. All I want to know is whether there is a woman in it?”
Lieut. D’Hubert’s arms dropped, and his weak voice was pathetically broken.
“Nothing of the kind, mon Colonel.”
“On your honour?” insisted the old warrior.
“On my honour.”
