I am a man to do even that, if
the good of the service and my duty to my country required it from me.
But that's unthinkable, so don't you even hint at such a thing."
He glared awfully, but his voice became gentle. "There's some milk yet
about that moustache of yours, my boy. You don't know what a man like
me is capable of. I would hide behind a haystack if... Don't grin at me,
sir. How dare you? If this were not a private conversation, I would...
Look here. I am responsible for the proper expenditure of lives under my
command for the glory of our country and the honour of the regiment. Do
you understand that? Well, then, what the devil do you mean by letting
yourself be spitted like this by that fellow of the Seventh Hussars?
It's simply disgraceful!"
Lieutenant D'Hubert, who expected another sort of conclusion, felt vexed
beyond measure. His shoulders moved slightly. He made no other answer.
He could not ignore his responsibility. The colonel softened his glance
and lowered his voice.
"It's deplorable," he murmured. And again he changed his tone. "Come,"
he went on persuasively, but with that note of authority which dwells
in the throat of a good leader of men, "this affair must be settled. I
desire to be told plainly what it is all about. I demand, as your best
friend, to know."
The compelling power of authority, the softening influence of the
kindness affected deeply a man just risen from a bed of sickness.
Pages:
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51