Adventure and adventurers -- Fiction; Short stories
General D’Hubert had recovered his powers of speech. “So you come here
like this along the road to invite me to a throat-cutting match with that—that
. . .” A laughing sort of rage took possession of him. “Ha! ha! ha! ha!”
</p>
<p>
His fists on his hips, he roared without restraint, while they stood
before him lank and straight, as though they had been shot up with a snap
through a trap door in the ground. Only four-and-twenty months ago the
masters of Europe, they had already the air of antique ghosts, they seemed
less substantial in their faded coats than their own narrow shadows
falling so black across the white road: the military and grotesque shadows
of twenty years of war and conquests. They had an outlandish appearance of
two imperturbable bonzes of the religion of the sword. And General
D’Hubert, also one of the ex-masters of Europe, laughed at these serious
phantoms standing in his way.
</p>
<p>
Said one, indicating the laughing General with a jerk of the head: “A
merry companion, that.”
</p>
<p>
“There are some of us that haven’t smiled from the day The Other went
away,” remarked his comrade.
</p>
<p>
A violent impulse to set upon and beat those unsubstantial wraiths to the
ground frightened General D’Hubert. He ceased laughing suddenly. His
desire now was to get rid of them, to get them away from his sight quickly
before he lost control of himself. He wondered at the fury he felt rising
in his breast. But he had no time to look into that peculiarity just then.
</p>
<p>
“I understand your wish to be done with me as quickly as possible. Don’t
let us waste time in empty ceremonies. Do you see that wood there at the
foot of that slope? Yes, the wood of pines. Let us meet there to-morrow at
sunrise. I will bring with me my sword or my pistols, or both if you
like.”
</p>
<p>
The seconds of General Feraud looked at each other.
</p>
<p>
“Pistols, General,” said the cuirassier.
</p>
<p>
“So be it. Au revoir—to-morrow morning. Till then let me advise you
to keep close if you don’t want the gendarmerie making inquiries about you
before it gets dark. Strangers are rare in this part of the country.”
</p>
<p>
They saluted in silence. General D’Hubert, turning his back on their
retreating forms, stood still in the middle of the road for a long time,
biting his lower lip and looking on the ground. Then he began to walk
straight before him, thus retracing his steps till he found himself before
the park gate of his intended’s house. Dusk had fallen. Motionless he
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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