the capital could possibly know anything of theepisode in the stable, he was received there with distinction. Militaryto the very bottom of his soul, the prospect of rising in his professionconsoled him from finding himself the butt of Bonapartist malevolencewhich pursued him with a persistence he could not account for. All therancour of that embittered and persecuted party pointed to him as theman who had _never_ loved the emperor--a sort of monster essentiallyworse than a mere betrayer.
General D'Hubert shrugged his shoulders without anger at this ferociousprejudice. Rejected by his old friends and mistrusting profoundly theadvances of royalist society, the young and handsome general (he wasbarely forty) adopted a manner of punctilious and cold courtesy whichat the merest shadow of an intended slight passed easily into harshhaughtiness. Thus prepared, General D'Hubert went about his affairs inParis feeling inwardly very happy with the peculiar uplifting happinessof a man very much in love. The charming girl looked out by his sisterhad come upon the scene and had conquered him in the thorough manner inwhich a young girl, by merely existing in his sight, can make a man offorty her own. They were going to be married as soon as General D'Huberthad obtained his official nomination to a promised command.
One afternoon, sitting on the _terrasse_ of the Cafe Tortoni, GeneralD'Hubert learned from the conversation of two strangers occupyinga table near his own that General Feraud, included in the batch ofsuperior officers arrested after the second return of the king, was indanger of passing before the Special Commission. Living all his sparemoments, as is frequently the case with expectant lovers a dayin advance of reality, as it were, and in a state of bestarredhallucination, it required nothing less than the name of his perpetualantagonist pronounced in a loud voice to call the youngest of Napoleon'sgenerals away from the mental contemplation of his betrothed. He lookedround. The strangers wore civilian clothes. Lean and weather-beaten,lolling back in their chairs, they looked at people with moody anddefiant abstraction from under their hats pulled low over their eyes. Itwas not difficult to recognise them for two of the compulsorily retiredofficers of the Old Guard. As from bravado or carelessness they chose tospeak in loud tones, General D'Hubert, who saw no reason why he shouldchange his seat, heard every word. They did not seem to be the personalfriends of General Feraud. His name came up with some others; andhearing it repeated General D'Hubert's tender anticipations of adomestic future adorned by a woman's grace were traversed by the harshregret of that warlike past, of that one long, intoxicating clash ofarms, unique in the magnitude of its glory and disaster--the marvellouswork and the special possession of his own generation. He felt anirrational tenderness toward his old adversary, and appreciatedemotionally the murderous absurdity their encounter had introduced intohis life. It was like an additional pinch of spice in a hot dish. Heremembered the flavour with sudden melancholy. He would never tasteit again. It was all over.... "I fancy it was being left lying in thegarden that had exasperated him so against me," he thought indulgently.
The two strangers at the next table had fallen silent upon the thirdmention of General Feraud's name. Presently, the oldest of the two,speaking in a bitter tone, affirmed that General Feraud's account wassettled. And why? Simply because he was not like some big-wigs who lovedonly themselves. The royalists knew that they could never make anythingof him. He loved the Other too well.
The Other was the man of St. Helena. The two officers nodded and touchedglasses before they drank to an impossible return. Then the same who hadspoken before remarked with a sardonic little laugh:
"His adversary showed more cleverness."
"What adversary?" asked the younger as if puzzled.
"Don't you know? They were two Hussars. At each promotion they fought aduel. Haven't you heard of the duel that is going on since 1801?"
His friend had heard of the duel, of course. Now he understood theallusion. General Baron D'Hubert would be able now to enjoy his fatking's favour in peace.
"Much good may it do to him," mumbled the elder. "They were bothbrave men. I never saw this D'Hubert--a sort of intriguing dandy, Iunderstand. But I can well believe what I've heard Feraud say once ofhim--that he never loved the emperor."
They rose and went away.
General D'Hubert experienced the horror of a somnambulist who wakesup from a complacent dream of activity to find himself walking on aquagmire. A profound disgust of the ground on which he was making hisway overcame him. Even the image of the charming girl was swept fromhis view in the flood of moral distress. Everything he had ever beenor hoped to be would be lost in ignominy unless he could manage to saveGeneral Feraud from the fate which threatened so many braves. Underthe impulse of this almost morbid need to attend to the safety of hisadversary General D'Hubert worked so well with hands and feet (as theFrench saying is) that in less than twenty-four hours he found means ofobtaining an extraordinary private audience from the Minister of Police.
General Baron D'Hubert was shown in suddenly without preliminaries. Inthe dusk of the minister's cabinet, behind the shadowy forms of writingdesk, chairs, and tables, between two bunches of wax candles blazing insconces, he beheld a figure in a splendid coat posturing before a tallmirror. The old _Conventional_ Fouche, ex-senator of the empire, traitorto every man, every principle and motive of human conduct, Duke ofOtranto, and the wily artisan of the Second Restoration, was trying thefit of a court suit, in which his young and accomplished _fiancee_ haddeclared her wish to have his portrait painted on porcelain. It was acaprice, a charming fancy which the Minister of Police of the SecondRestoration was anxious to gratify. For that man, often compared inwiliness of intellect to a fox but whose ethical side could be worthilysymbolised by nothing less emphatic than a skunk, was as much possessedby his love as General D'Hubert himself.
Startled to be discovered thus by the blunder of a servant, he met thislittle vexation with the characteristic effrontery which had servedhis turn so well in the endless intrigues of his self-seeking career.Without altering his attitude a hair's breadth, one leg in a silkstocking advanced, his head twisted over his left shoulder, he calledout calmly:
"This way, general. Pray approach. Well? I am all attention."
While General D'Hubert, as ill at ease as if one of his own littleweaknesses had been exposed, presented his request as shortly aspossible, the minister went on feeling the fit of his collar, settlingthe lappels before the glass or buckling his back in his efforts tobehold the set of the gold-embroidered coat skirts behind. His stillface, his attentive eyes, could not have expressed a more completeinterest in those matters if he had been alone.
"Exclude from the operations of the Special Commission a certain Feraud,Gabriel Florian, General of Brigade of the promotion of 1814?" herepeated in a slightly wondering tone and then turned away from theglass. "Why exclude him precisely?"
"I am surprised that your Excellency, so competent in the valuation ofmen of his time, should have thought it worth while to have that nameput down on the list."
"A rabid Bonapartist."
"So is every grenadier and every trooper of the army, as your Excellencywell knows. And the individuality of General Feraud can have no moreweight than that of any casual grenadier. He is a man of no mentalgrasp, of no capacity whatever. It is inconceivable that he should everhave any influence."
"He has a well-hung tongue though," interjected Fouche.
"Noisy, I admit, but not dangerous."
"I will not dispute with you. I know next to nothing of him. Hardly hisname in fact."
"And yet your Excellency had the presidency of the commission charged bythe king to point out those who were to be tried," said General D'Hubertwith an emphasis which did not miss the minister's ear.
"Yes, general," he said, walking away into the dark part of the vastroom and throwing himself into a high-backed armchair whose overshadoweddepth swallowed him up, all but the gleam of gold embroideries on thecoat and the pallid patch of the face. "Yes, general. Take that chairthere."
General D'Hubert sat down.
/> "Yes, general," continued the arch-master in the arts of intrigueand betrayal, whose duplicity as if at times intolerable to hisself-knowledge worked itself off in bursts of cynical openness. "Idid hurry on the formation of the proscribing commission and took itspresidency. And do you know why? Simply from fear that if I did nottake it quickly into my hands my own name would head the list of theproscribed. Such are the times in which we live. But I am minister ofthe king as yet, and I ask you plainly why I should take the name ofthis obscure Feraud off the list? You wonder how his name got there. Isit possible that you know men so little? My dear general, at the veryfirst sitting of the commission names poured on us like rain off thetiles of the Tuileries. Names! We had our choice of thousands. How doyou