That is my precise meaning.
The quarrel itself is not to be explained easily. We have been on the
ground several times during that time of course."
"What manners! What horrible perversion of manliness! Nothing can
account for such inhumanity but the sanguinary madness of the Revolution
which has tainted a whole generation," mused the returned _emigre_ in a
low tone. "Who is your adversary?" he asked a little louder.
"What? My adversary! His name is Feraud." Shadowy in his_ tricorne_ and
old-fashioned clothes like a bowed thin ghost of the _ancien regime_ the
Chevalier voiced a ghostly memory.
"I can remember the feud about little Sophie Derval between Monsieur de
Brissac, captain in the Bodyguards and d'Anjorrant. Not the pockmarked
one. The other. The Beau d'Anjorrant as they called him. They met three
times in eighteen months in a most gallant manner. It was the fault of
that little Sophie, too, who _would_ keep on playing..."
"This is nothing of the kind," interrupted General D'Hubert. He laughed
a little sardonically. "Not at all so simple," he added. "Nor yet half
so reasonable," he finished inaudibly between his teeth and ground them
with rage.
After this sound nothing troubled the silence for a long time till the
Chevalier asked without animation:
"What is he--this Feraud?"
"Lieutenant of Hussars, too--I mean he's a general. A Gascon. Son of a
blacksmith, I believe."
"There! I thought so. That Bonaparte had a special predilection for
the _canaille_.
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