Adventure and adventurers -- Fiction; Short stories
</p>
<p>
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 Lieut. D’Hubert, exclaiming, “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 away, putting the backs of her
hands over her eyes. Feraud did not seem to see her, but she ran after him
and seized his left arm. He shook her off, and then she rushed towards
Lieut. D’Hubert and clawed at the sleeve of his uniform.
</p>
<p>
“Wretched man!” she sobbed. “Is this what you wanted to find him for?”
</p>
<p>
“Let me go,” entreated Lieut. 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.”
</p>
<p>
A fiendish laugh from Lieut. Feraud commented that assurance. “Come
along!” he shouted, with a stamp of his foot.
</p>
<p>
And Lieut. D’Hubert did follow. He could do nothing else. Yet in
vindication of his sanity it must be recorded that as he passed through
the ante-room 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. Therefore he followed into the garden.
Behind them the girl tottered out, too. With ashy lips and wild, scared
eyes, she surrendered herself to a dreadful curiosity. She had also the
notion of rushing if need be between Lieut. Feraud and death.
</p>
<p>
The deaf gardener, utterly unconscious of approaching footsteps, went on
watering his flowers till Lieut. Feraud thumped him on the back. Beholding
suddenly an enraged man flourishing a big sabre, the old chap trembling in
all his limbs dropped the watering-pot. At once Lieut. Feraud kicked it
away with great animosity, and, seizing the gardener by the throat, backed
him against a tree. He held him there, shouting in his ear, “Stay here,
and look on! You understand? You’ve got to look on! Don’t dare budge from
the spot!”
</p>
<p>
Lieut. D’Hubert came slowly down the walk, unclasping his dolman with
unconcealed disgust. Even then, with his hand already on the hilt of his
sword, he hesitated to draw till a roar, “En garde, fichtre! What do you
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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