The Point Of Honor: A Military Tale

somewhat in the way of theiradvancement, because they were still captains when they came togetheragain during the war with Prussia. Detached north after Jena withthe army commanded by Marshal Bernadotte, Prince of Ponte-Corvo, theyentered Lubeck together. It was only after the occupation of that townthat Captain Feraud had leisure to consider his future conduct in viewof the fact that Captain D'Hubert had been given the position of thirdaide-de-camp to the marshal. He considered it a great part of a night,and in the morning summoned two sympathetic friends.

  "I've been thinking it over calmly," he said, gazing at them withbloodshot, tired eyes. "I see that I must get rid of that intriguingpersonage. Here he's managed to sneak onto the personal staff of themarshal. It's a direct provocation to me. I can't tolerate a situationin which I am exposed any day to receive an order through him, and Godknows what order, too! That sort of thing has happened once before--andthat's once too often. He understands this perfectly, never fear. Ican't tell you more than this. Now go. You know what it is you have todo."

  This encounter took place outside the town of Lubeck, on very openground selected with special care in deference to the general sense ofthe cavalry division belonging to the army corps, that this time the twoofficers should meet on horseback. After all, this duel was a cavalryaffair, and to persist in fighting on foot would look like a slighton one's own arm of the service. The seconds, startled by the unusualnature of the suggestion, hastened to refer to their principals. CaptainFeraud jumped at it with savage alacrity. For some obscure reason,depending, no doubt, on his psychology, he imagined himself invincibleon horseback. All alone within the four walls of his room he rubbed hishands exultingly. "Aha! my staff officer, I've got you now!"

  Captain D'Hubert, on his side, after staring hard for a considerabletime at his bothered seconds, shrugged his shoulders slightly. Thisaffair had hopelessly and unreasonably complicated his existence forhim. One absurdity more or less in the development did not matter. Allabsurdity was distasteful to him; but, urbane as ever, he produced afaintly ironic smile and said in his calm voice:

  "It certainly will do away to some extent with the monotony of thething."

  But, left to himself, he sat down at a table and took his head intohis hands. He had not spared himself of late, and the marshal had beenworking his aides-de-camp particularly hard. The last three weeks ofcampaigning in horrible weather had affected his health. When overtiredhe suffered from a stitch in his wounded side, and that uncomfortablesensation always depressed him. "It's that brute's doing," he thoughtbitterly.

  The day before he had received a letter from home, announcing that hisonly sister was going to be married. He reflected that from the time shewas sixteen, when he went away to garrison life in Strasburg, he hadhad but two short glimpses of her. They had been great friends andconfidants; and now they were going to give her away to a man whom hedid not know--a very worthy fellow, no doubt, but not half good enoughfor her. He would never see his old Leonie again. She had a capablelittle head and plenty of tact; she would know how to manage the fellow,to be sure. He was easy about her happiness, but he felt ousted fromthe first place in her affection which had been his ever since thegirl could speak. And a melancholy regret of the days of his childhoodsettled upon Captain D'Hubert, third aide-de-camp to the Prince ofPonte-Corvo.

  He pushed aside the letter of congratulation he had begun to write, asin duty bound but without pleasure. He took a fresh sheet of paperand wrote: "This is my last will and testament." And, looking at thesewords, he gave himself up to unpleasant reflection; a presentimentthat he would never see the scenes of his childhood overcame CaptainD'Hubert. He jumped up, pushing his chair back, yawned leisurely, whichdemonstrated to himself that he didn't care anything for presentiments,and, throwing himself on the bed, went to sleep. During the night heshivered from time to time without waking up. In the morning he rodeout of town between his two seconds, talking of indifferent things andlooking right and left with apparent detachment into the heavy morningmists, shrouding the flat green fields bordered by hedges. He leaped aditch, and saw the forms of many mounted men moving in the low fog. "Weare to fight before a gallery," he muttered bitterly.

  His seconds were rather concerned at the state of the atmosphere,but presently a pale and sympathetic sun struggled above the vapours.Captain D'Hubert made out in the distance three horsemen riding a littleapart; it was his adversary and his seconds. He drew his sabre andassured himself that it was properly fastened to his wrist. And now theseconds, who had been standing in a close group with the heads of theirhorses together, separated at an easy canter, leaving a large, clearfield between him and his adversary. Captain D'Hubert looked at the palesun, at the dismal landscape, and the imbecility of the impendingfight filled him with desolation. From a distant part of the fielda stentorian voice shouted commands at proper intervals: _Au pas--Autrot--Chargez!_ Presentiments of death don't come to a man for nothinghe thought at the moment he put spurs to his horse.

  And therefore nobody was more surprised than himself when, at the veryfirst set-to, Captain Feraud laid himself open to a cut extending overthe forehead, blinding him with blood, and ending the combat almostbefore it had fairly begun. The surprise of Captain Feraud might havebeen even greater. Captain D'Hubert, leaving him swearing horribly andreeling in the saddle between his two appalled friends, leaped the ditchagain and trotted home with his two seconds, who seemed rather awestruckat the speedy issue of that encounter. In the evening, Captain D'Hubertfinished the congratulatory letter on his sister's marriage.

  He finished it late. It was a long letter. Captain D'Hubert gave reinsto his fancy. He told his sister he would feel rather lonely after thisgreat change in her life. But, he continued, "the day will come for me,too, to get married. In fact, I am thinking already of the time whenthere will be no one left to fight in Europe, and the epoch of warswill be over. I shall expect then to be within measurable distance of amarshal's baton and you will be an experienced married woman. You shalllook out a nice wife for me. I will be moderately bald by then, and alittle blase; I will require a young girl--pretty, of course, and witha large fortune, you know, to help me close my glorious career with thesplendour befitting my exalted rank." He ended with the informationthat he had just given a lesson to a worrying, quarrelsome fellow, whoimagined he had a grievance against him. "But if you, in the depth ofyour province," he continued, "ever hear it said that your brother is ofa quarrelsome disposition, don't you believe it on any account. Thereis no saying what gossip from the army may reach your innocent ears;whatever you hear, you may assure our father that your ever lovingbrother is not a duellist." Then Captain D'Hubert crumpled up the sheetof paper with the words, "This is my last will and testament," and threwit in the fire with a great laugh at himself. He didn't care a snapfor what that lunatic fellow could do. He had suddenly acquired theconviction that this man was utterly powerless to affect his life in anysort of way, except, perhaps, in the way of putting a certain specialexcitement into the delightful gay intervals between the campaigns.

  From this on there were, however, to be no peaceful intervals in thecareer of Captain D'Hubert. He saw the fields of Eylau and Friedland,marched and countermarched in the snow, the mud, and the dust of Polishplains, picking up distinction and advancement on all the roads ofnortheastern Europe. Meantime, Captain Feraud, despatched southward withhis regiment, made unsatisfactory war in Spain. It was only when thepreparations for the Russian campaign began that he was ordered northagain. He left the country of mantillas and oranges without regret.

  The first signs of a not unbecoming baldness added to the lofty aspectof Colonel D'Hubert's forehead. This feature was no longer white andsmooth as in the days of his youth, and the kindly open glance of hisblue eyes had grown a little hard, as if from much peering through thesmoke of battles. The ebony crop on Colonel Feraud's head, coarse andcrinkly like a cap of horsehair, showed many silver threads about thetemples. A detestable warfare of ambushes and inglorious surprises hadnot improved his temper.
The beaklike curve of his nose was unpleasantlyset off by deep folds on each side of his mouth. The round orbits of hiseyes radiated fine wrinkles. More than ever he recalled an irritableand staring fowl--something like a cross between a parrot and an owl.He still manifested an outspoken dislike for "intriguing fellows." Heseized every opportunity to state that he did not pick up his rank inthe anterooms of marshals.

  The unlucky persons, civil or military, who, with an intention of beingpleasant, begged Colonel Feraud to tell them how he came by that veryapparent scar on the forehead, were astonished to find themselvessnubbed in various ways, some of which were simply rude and othersmysteriously sardonic. Young officers were warned kindly by their moreexperienced comrades not