"
While thus discoursing he had unbuckled his empty scabbard. He sent it
flying under the bed, and, lowering the point of the sword, brushed past
the perplexed Lieutenant D'Hubert, crying: "Follow me." Directly he had
flung open the door a faint shriek was heard, and the pretty maid, who
had been listening at the keyhole, staggered backward, putting the backs
of her hands over her eyes. He didn't seem to see her, but as he was
crossing the anteroom she ran after him and seized his left arm. He
shook her off and then she rushed upon Lieutenant D'Hubert and clawed at
the sleeve of his uniform.
"Wretched man," she sobbed despairingly. "Is this what you wanted to
find him for?"
"Let me go," entreated Lieutenant D'Hubert, trying to disengage himself
gently. "It's like being in a madhouse," he protested with exasperation.
"Do let me go, I won't do him any harm."
A fiendish laugh from Lieutenant Feraud commented that assurance. "Come
along," he cried impatiently, with a stamp of his foot.
And Lieutenant D'Hubert did follow. He could do nothing else. But in
vindication of his sanity it must be recorded that as he passed out
of the anteroom the notion of opening the street door and bolting out
presented itself to this brave youth, only, of course, to be instantly
dismissed: for he felt sure that the other would pursue him without
shame or compunction. And the prospect of an officer of hussars being
chased along the street by another officer of hussars with a naked sword
could not be for a moment entertained.
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