remarked that the matter was confidential enough andto be arranged discreetly. Their general quarters were in that villageover there where the infernal clodhoppers--damn their false royalisthearts--looked remarkably cross-eyed at three unassuming military men.For the present he should only ask for the name of General D'Hubert'sfriends.
"What friends?" said the astonished General D'Hubert, completely off thetrack. "I am staying with my brother-in-law over there."
"Well, he will do for one," suggested the chipped veteran.
"We're the friends of General Feraud," interjected the other, who hadkept silent till then, only glowering with his one eye at the man whohad never loved the emperor. That was something to look at. For eventhe gold-laced Judases who had sold him to the English, the marshals andprinces, had loved him at some time or other. But this man had _never_loved the emperor. General Feraud had said so distinctly.
General D'Hubert felt a sort of inward blow in his chest. For aninfinitesimal fraction of a second it was as if the spinning of theearth had become perceptible with an awful, slight rustle in the eternalstillness of space. But that was the noise of the blood in his ears andpassed off at once. Involuntarily he murmured:
"Feraud! I had forgotten his existence."
"He's existing at present, very uncomfortably it is true, in theinfamous inn of that nest of savages up there," said the one-eyedcuirassier drily. "We arrived in your parts an hour ago on post horses.He's awaiting our return with impatience. There is hurry, you know. Thegeneral has broken the ministerial order of sojourn to obtain from youthe satisfaction he's entitled to by the laws of honour, and naturallyhe's anxious to have it all over before the _gendarmerie_ gets thescent."
The other elucidated the idea a little further.
"Get back on the quiet--you understand? Phitt! No one the wiser. Wehave broken out, too. Your friend the king would be glad to cut off ourscurvy pittances at the first chance. It's a risk. But honour beforeeverything."
General D'Hubert had recovered his power of speech.
"So you come like this along the road to invite me to a throat-cuttingmatch with that--that..." A laughing sort of rage took possession ofhim.
"Ha! ha! ha! ha!"
His fists on his hips, he roared without restraint while they stoodbefore him lank and straight, as unexpected as though they had been shotup with a snap through a trapdoor in the ground. Only four-and-twentymonths ago the masters of Europe, they had already the air of antiqueghosts, they seemed less substantial in their faded coats than their ownnarrow shadows falling so black across the white road--the military andgrotesque shadows of twenty years of war and conquests. They had theoutlandish appearance of two imperturbable bronzes of the religion ofthe sword. And General D'Hubert, also one of the ex-masters of Europe,laughed at these serious phantoms standing in his way.
Said one, indicating the laughing general with a jerk of the head:
"A merry companion that."
"There are some of us that haven't smiled from the day the Other wentaway," said his comrade.
A violent impulse to set upon and beat these unsubstantial wraiths tothe ground frightened General D'Hubert. He ceased laughing suddenly.His urgent desire now was to get rid of them, to get them away from hissight quickly before he lost control of himself. He wondered at thisfury he felt rising in his breast. But he had no time to look into thatpeculiarity just then.
"I understand your wish to be done with me as quickly as possible. Thenwhy waste time in empty ceremonies. Do you see that wood there at thefoot of that slope? Yes, the wood of pines. Let us meet there to-morrowat sunrise. I will bring with me my sword or my pistols or both if youlike."
The seconds of General Feraud looked at each other.
"Pistols, general," said the cuirassier.
"So be it. _Au revoir_--to-morrow morning. Till then let me advise youto keep close if you don't want the _gendarmerie_ making inquiries aboutyou before dark. Strangers are rare in this part of the country."
They saluted in silence. General D'Hubert, turning his back on theirretreating figures, stood still in the middle of the road for a longtime, biting his lower lip and looking on the ground. Then he began towalk straight before him, thus retracing his steps till he found himselfbefore the park gate of his intended's home. Motionless he staredthrough the bars at the front of the house gleaming clear beyond thethickets and trees. Footsteps were heard on the gravel, and presently atall stooping shape emerged from the lateral alley following the innerside of the park wall.
Le Chevalier de Valmassigue, uncle of the adorable Adele, ex-brigadierin the army of the princes, bookbinder in Altona, afterwards shoemaker(with a great reputation for elegance in the fit of ladies' shoes) inanother small German town, wore silk stockings on his lean shanks, lowshoes with silver buckles, a brocaded waistcoat. A long-skirted coat _ala Francaise_ covered loosely his bowed back. A small three-cornered hatrested on a lot of powdered hair tied behind in a queue.
"_Monsieur le Chevalier_," called General D'Hubert softly.
"What? You again here, _mon ami_? Have you forgotten something?"
"By heavens! That's just it. I have forgotten something. I am come totell you of it. No--outside. Behind this wall. It's too ghastly a thingto be let in at all where she lives."
The Chevalier came out at once with that benevolent resignation someold people display towards the fugue of youth. Older by a quarter of acentury than General D'Hubert, he looked upon him in the secret ofhis heart as a rather troublesome youngster in love. He had heard hisenigmatical words very well, but attached no undue importance to what amere man of forty so hard hit was likely to do or say. The turn of mindof the generation of Frenchmen grown up during the years of his exilewas almost unintelligible to him. Their sentiments appeared to himunduly violent, lacking fineness and measure, their language needlesslyexaggerated. He joined the general on the road, and they made a fewsteps in silence, the general trying to master his agitation and getproper control of his voice.
"Chevalier, it is perfectly true. I forgot something. I forgot tillhalf an hour ago that I had an urgent affair of honour on my hands. It'sincredible but so it is!"
All was still for a moment. Then in the profound evening silence of thecountryside the thin, aged voice of the Chevalier was heard tremblingslightly.
"Monsieur! That's an indignity."
It was his first thought. The girl born during his exile, the posthumousdaughter of his poor brother, murdered by a band of Jacobins, had grownsince his return very dear to his old heart, which had been starving onmere memories of affection for so many years.
"It is an inconceivable thing--I say. A man settles such affairs beforehe thinks of asking for a young girl's hand. Why! If you had forgottenfor ten days longer you would have been married before your memoryreturned to you. In my time men did not forget such things--nor yetwhat's due to the feelings of an innocent young woman. If I did notrespect them myself I would qualify your conduct in a way which youwould not like."
General D'Hubert relieved himself frankly by a groan.
"Don't let that consideration prevent you. You run no risk of offendingher mortally."
But the old man paid no attention to this lover's nonsense. It'sdoubtful whether he even heard.
"What is it?" he asked. "What's the nature of..."
"Call it a youthful folly, _Monsieur le Chevalier_. An inconceivable,incredible result of..."
He stopped short. "He will never believe the story," he thought. "Hewill only think I am taking him for a fool and get offended." GeneralD'Hubert spoke up again. "Yes, originating in youthful folly it hasbecome..."
The Chevalier interrupted. "Well then it must be arranged."
"Arranged."
"Yes. No matter what it may cost your _amour propre_. You should haveremembered you were engaged. You forgot that, too, I suppose. And thenyou go and forget your quarrel. It's the most revolting exhibition oflevity I ever heard of."
"Good heavens, Chevalier! You don't imagine I have been pick
ing up thatquarrel last time I was in Paris or anything of the sort. Do you?"
"Eh? What matters the precise date of your insane conduct!" exclaimedthe Chevalier testily. "The principal thing is to arrange it..."
Noticing General D'Hubert getting restive and trying to place a word,the old _emigre_ raised his arm and added with dignity:
"I've been a soldier, too. I would never dare to suggest a doubtfulstep to the man whose name my niece is to bear. I tell you that _entregallants hommes_ an affair can be always arranged."
"But, _saperlotte, Monsieur le Chevalier_, it's fifteen or sixteen yearsago. I was a lieutenant of Hussars then."
The old Chevalier seemed confounded by the vehemently despairing tone ofthis information.
"You were a lieutenant of Hussars sixteen years ago?" he mumbled in adazed manner.
"Why, yes! You did not suppose I was made a general in my cradle like aroyal prince."
In the deepening purple twilight of the fields, spread with vine leaves,backed by a low band of sombre crimson in the west, the voice of the oldex-officer in the army of the princes sounded collected, punctiliouslycivil.
"Do I dream? Is this a pleasantry? Or do you mean me to understand thatyou have been hatching an affair of honour for sixteen years?"
"It has clung to me for that length of time. That is my precise meaning.The quarrel itself is not to be explained easily. We have been on theground several times during that time of course."
"What manners! What horrible perversion of manliness! Nothing canaccount for such inhumanity but the sanguinary madness of the Revolutionwhich has tainted a whole generation," mused the returned _emigre_ in alow tone. "Who is your adversary?" he asked a little louder.
"What? My adversary! His name is Feraud." Shadowy in his_ tricorne_ andold-fashioned clothes like a bowed thin ghost of the _ancien regime_ theChevalier voiced a ghostly memory.
"I can remember the feud about little Sophie Derval between Monsieur deBrissac, captain in the Bodyguards and d'Anjorrant. Not the pockmarkedone. The other. The Beau d'Anjorrant as they called him. They met threetimes in eighteen months in a most gallant manner. It was the fault ofthat little Sophie, too, who _would_ keep on playing..."
"This is nothing of the kind," interrupted General D'Hubert. He laugheda little sardonically. "Not at all so simple," he added. "Nor yet halfso reasonable," he finished inaudibly between his teeth and ground themwith rage.
After this sound nothing troubled the silence for a long time till theChevalier asked without animation:
"What is he--this Feraud?"
"Lieutenant of Hussars, too--I mean he's a general. A Gascon. Son of ablacksmith, I believe."
"There! I thought so. That Bonaparte had a special predilection forthe _canaille_. I don't mean this for you, D'Hubert. You are one of us,though you have served this usurper who..."
"Let's leave him out of this," broke in General D'Hubert.
The Chevalier shrugged his peaked shoulders.
"A Feraud of sorts. Offspring of a blacksmith and some village troll....See what comes of mixing yourself up with that sort of people."
"You have made shoes yourself, Chevalier."
"Yes. But I am not the son of a shoemaker. Neither are you, MonsieurD'Hubert. You and I have something that your Bonaparte's, princes,dukes, and marshals have not because there's no power on earth thatcould give it to them," retorted the _emigre_, with the rising animationof a man who has got hold of a hopeful argument. "Those people don'texist--all these Ferauds. Feraud! What is Feraud? A _va-nu-pieds_disguised into a general by a Corsican adventurer masquerading as anemperor. There is no earthly reason for a D'Hubert to _s'encanailler_by a duel with a person of that sort. You can make your excuses to himperfectly well. And if the _manant_ takes it into his head to declinethem you may simply refuse to meet him." "You say I may do that?" "Yes.With the clearest conscience." "_Monsieur le Chevalier!_ To what do youthink you have returned from your emigration?"
This was said in such a startling tone that the old exile raised sharplyhis bowed head, glimmering silvery white under the points of the little_tricorne_. For a long time he made no sound.
"God knows!" he said at last, pointing with a slow and grave gestureat a tall roadside cross mounted on a block of stone and stretching itsarms of forged stone all black against the darkening red band in thesky. "God knows! If it were not for this emblem, which I remember seeingin this spot as a child, I would wonder to what we, who have remainedfaithful to our God and our king, have returned. The very voices of thepeople have changed."
"Yes, it is a changed France," said General D'Hubert. He had regainedhis calm. His tone was slightly ironic. "Therefore, I cannot take youradvice. Besides, how is one to refuse to be bitten by a dog that meansto bite? It's impracticable. Take my word for it. He isn't a man to bestopped by apologies or refusals. But there are other ways. I could, forinstance, send a mounted messenger with a word to the brigadier of the_gendarmerie_ in Senlac. These fellows are liable to arrest on my simpleorder. It would make some talk in the army, both the organised and thedisbanded. Especially the disbanded. All _canaille_. All my comradesonce--the companions in arms of Armand D'Hubert. But what need aD'Hubert care what people who don't exist may think? Or better still,I might get my brother-in-law to send for the mayor of the village andgive him a hint. No more would be needed to get the three 'brigands'set upon with flails and pitchforks and hunted into some nice deep wetditch. And nobody the wiser! It has been done only ten miles from hereto three poor devils of the disbanded Red Lancers of the Guard goingto their homes. What says your conscience, Chevalier? Can a D'Hubert dothat thing to three men who do not exist?"
A few stars had come out on the blue obscurity, clear as crystal, of thesky. The dry, thin voice of the Chevalier spoke harshly.
"Why are you telling me all this?"
The general seized a withered, frail old hand with a strong grip.
"Because I owe you my fullest confidence. Who could tell Adele but you?You understand why I dare not trust my brother-in-law nor yet my ownsister. Chevalier! I have been so near doing these things that I trembleyet. You don't know how terrible this duel appears to me. And there's noescape from it."
He murmured after a pause, "It's a fatality," dropped the Chevalier'spassive hand, and said in his ordinary conversational voice:
"I shall have to go without seconds. If it is my lot to remain onthe ground, you at least will know all that can be made known of thisaffair."
The shadowy ghost of the _ancien regime_ seemed to have become morebowed during the conversation.
"How am I to keep an indifferent face this evening before those twowomen?" he groaned. "General! I find 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 arm above the elbow, gave ita mighty squeeze.
"I must kill him," he hissed, and opening his hand strode away down theroad.
The delicate attentions of his adoring sister had secured for thegeneral perfect liberty of movement in the house where he was a guest.He had even his own entrance through a small door in one corner ofthe orangery. Thus he was not exposed that evening to the necessityof dissembling his agitation before the calm ignorance of the otherinmates. He was glad of it. It seemed to him that if he had to openhis lips, he would break out into horrible imprecation, start breakingfurniture, smashing china and glasses. From the moment he opened theprivate door, and while ascending the twenty-eight steps of windingstaircase, giving access to the corridor on which his room opened, hewent through a horrible and humiliating scene in which an infuriatedmadman, with bloodshot eyes and a foaming mouth, played inconceivablehavoc with everything inanimate that may be found in a well-appointeddining room. When he opened the door of his apartment the fit was over,and his bodily fatigue was so great that he had to catch at the backsof the chairs as he crossed the room to reach a low and broad
divanon which he let himself fall heavily. His moral prostration was stillgreater. That brutality of feeling, which he had known only whencharging sabre in hand, amazed this man of forty, who did not recognisein it the instinctive fury of his menaced passion. It was the revolt ofjeopardised desire. In his mental and bodily exhaustion it got cleared,fined down, purified into a sentiment of melancholy despair at having,perhaps, to die before he had taught this beautiful girl to love him.
On that night General D'Hubert, either stretched on his back with hishands over his eyes or lying on his breast, with his face buried in acushion, made the full pilgrimage of emotions. Nauseating disgust atthe absurdity of the situation, dread of the fate that could play sucha vile trick on a man, awe at the remote consequences of an apparentlyinsignificant and ridiculous event in his past, doubt of his own fitnessto conduct his existence and mistrust of his best sentiments--for whatthe devil did he want to go to Fouche for?--he knew them all in turn."I am an idiot, neither more nor less," he thought. "A sensitive idiot.Because I overheard two men talk in a cafe... I am an idiot afraid oflies--whereas in life it is only truth that matters."
Several times he got up, and walking about in his socks, so as not tobe heard by anybody downstairs, drank all the water he could find inthe dark. And