flails and pitchforks and hunted into some nice, deep, wet ditch&mdash;and nobody the wiser! It has been done only ten miles from here to three poor devils of the disbanded Red Lancers of the Guard going to their homes. What says your conscience, Chevalier? Can a D&rsquo;Hubert do that thing to three men who do not exist?&rdquo; </p> <p> A few stars had come out on the blue obscurity, clear as crystal, of the sky. The dry, thin voice of the Chevalier spoke harshly: &ldquo;Why are you telling me all this?&rdquo; </p> <p> The General seized the withered old hand with a strong grip. &ldquo;Because I owe you my fullest confidence. Who could tell Adele but you? You understand why I dare not trust my brother-in-law nor yet my own sister. Chevalier! I have been so near doing these things that I tremble yet. You don&rsquo;t know how terrible this duel appears to me. And there&rsquo;s no escape from it.&rdquo; </p> <p> He murmured after a pause, &ldquo;It&rsquo;s a fatality,&rdquo; dropped the Chevalier&rsquo;s passive hand, and said in his ordinary conversational voice, &ldquo;I shall have to go without seconds. If it is my lot to remain on the ground, you at least will know all that can be made known of this affair.&rdquo; </p> <p> The shadowy ghost of the ancien regime seemed to have become more bowed during the conversation. &ldquo;How am I to keep an indifferent face this evening before these two women?&rdquo; he groaned. &ldquo;General! I find it very difficult to forgive you.&rdquo; </p> <p> General D &lsquo;Hubert made no answer. </p> <p> &ldquo;Is your cause good, at least?&rdquo; </p> <p> &ldquo;I am innocent.&rdquo; </p> <p> This time he seized the Chevalier&rsquo;s ghostly arm above the elbow, and gave it a mighty squeeze. &ldquo;I must kill him!&rdquo; he hissed, and opening his hand strode away down the road. </p> <p> The delicate attentions of his adoring sister had secured for the General perfect liberty of movement in the house where he was a guest. He had even his own entrance through a small door in one corner of the orangery. Thus he was not exposed that evening to the necessity of dissembling his agitation before the calm ignorance of the other inmates. He was glad of it. It seemed to him that if he had to open his lips he would break out into horrible and aimless imprecations, start breaking furniture, smashing china and glass. From the moment he opened the private door and while ascending the twenty-eight steps of a winding staircase, giving access to the corridor on which his room opened, he went through a horrible and humiliating scene in which an infuriated madman with blood-shot eyes and a