But his northern temperament, sentimental yet cautious and clear-sighted, too, in its idealistic way, checked his impulse to make a 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 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 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."

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"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 practi- cally unknown to his regiment; for perplexity is a senti- ment 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 pro- fane language. "Mille tonnerres! . . . Sacré 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 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 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.

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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 in- tention to get to the bottom of this affair. And when a colonel says something . . . you see . . ." Lieut. D'Hubert broke in earnestly: "Let me en- treat 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 im- mense 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!"

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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." "Very well," said the colonel, thoughtfully, and bit his lip. The arguments of Lieut. D'Hubert, helped by his liking for the man, had convinced him. On the other hand, it was highly improper that his intervention, of which he had made no secret, should produce no visible effect. He kept Lieut. D'Hubert a few minutes longer, and dismissed him kindly. "Take a few days more in bed. Lieutenant. What the devil does the surgeon mean by reporting you fit for duty?"

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On coming out of the colonel's quarters, Lieut. D'Hubert said nothing to the friend who was waiting outside to take him home. He said nothing to anybody. Lieut. D'Hubert made no confidences. But on the evening of that day the colonel, strolling under the elms growing near his quarters, in the company of his second in 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 with short side-whiskers, pricked up his ears at that without letting a sign of curiosity escape him. "It's no trifle," added the colonel, oracularly. The other waited for a long while before he murmured: "Indeed, sir!" "No trifle," repeated the colonel, looking straight before him. "I've, however, forbidden D'Hubert either to send to or receive a challenge from Feraud for the next twelve months." He had imagined this prohibition to save the prestige a colonel should have. The result of it was to give an official seal to the mystery surrounding this deadly quarrel. Lieut. D'Hubert repelled by an impassive silence all attempts to worm the truth out of him. Lieut. Feraud, secretly uneasy at first, regained his assurance as time went on. He disguised his ignorance of the meaning of the imposed truce by slight sardonic laughs, as though he were amused by what he intended to keep to himself. "But what will you do?" his chums used to ask him. He contented himself by replying "Qui vivra verra" with a little truculent air. And everybody admired his discretion. Before the end of the truce Lieut. D'Hubert got his troop. The promotion was well earned, but somehow no one seemed to expect the event. When Lieut. Feraud heard of it at a gathering of officers, he muttered

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through his teeth, "Is that so?" At once he unhooked his sabre from a peg near the door, buckled it on care- fully, and left the company without another word. He walked home with measured steps, struck a light with his flint and steel, and lit his tallow candle. Then snatching an unlucky glass tumbler off the mantelpiece he dashed it violently on the floor.