The assumption was, that having just
scored heavily, he would be found placable and disposed to moderation.
The reasoning was sound enough; nevertheless, the move turned out
unfortunate. In that relaxation of moral fibre which is brought about
by the ease of soothed vanity, Lieutenant Feraud had condescended in
the secret of his heart to review the case, and even to doubt not the
justice of his cause, but the absolute sagacity of his conduct. This
being so, he was disinclined to talk about it. The suggestion of the
regimental wise men put him in a difficult position. He was disgusted,
and this disgust by a sort of paradoxical logic reawakened his animosity
against Lieutenant D'Hubert. Was he to be pestered with this fellow
for ever--the fellow who had an infernal knack of getting round people
somehow? On the other hand, it was difficult to refuse point-blank that
sort of mediation sanctioned by the code of honour.
Lieutenant Feraud met the difficulty by an attitude of fierce reserve.
He twisted his moustache and used vague words. His case was perfectly
clear. He was not ashamed to present it, neither was he afraid to defend
it personally. He did not see any reason to jump at the suggestion
before ascertaining how his adversary was likely to take it.
Later in the day, his exasperation growing upon him, he was heard in
a public place saying sardonically "that it would be the very luckiest
thing for Lieutenant D'Hubert, since next time of meeting he need not
hope to get off with a mere trifle of three weeks in bed.
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