Do!"
"You don't know what you ask," murmured Lieutenant D'Hubert in a feeble
voice. "However, if he..."
In another part of the meadow the seconds of Lieutenant Feraud were
urging him to go over and shake hands with his adversary.
"You have paid him off now--_que diable_. It's the proper thing to do.
This D'Hubert is a decent fellow."
"I know the decency of these generals' pets," muttered Lieutenant Feraud
through his teeth for all answer. The sombre expression of his face
discouraged further efforts at reconciliation. The seconds, bowing from
a distance, took their men off the field. In the afternoon, Lieutenant
D'Hubert, very popular as a good comrade uniting great bravery with
a frank and equable temper, had many visitors. It was remarked that
Lieutenant Feraud did not, as customary, show himself much abroad to
receive the felicitations of his friends. They would not have failed
him, because he, too, was liked for the exuberance of his southern
nature and the simplicity of his character. In all the places where
officers were in the habit of assembling at the end of the day the
duel of the morning was talked over from every point of view. Though
Lieutenant D'Hubert had got worsted this time, his sword-play was
commended. No one could deny that it was very close, very scientific.
If he got touched, some said, it was because he wished to spare his
adversary. But by many the vigour and dash of Lieutenant Feraud's attack
were pronounced irresistible.
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