Adventure and adventurers -- Fiction; Short stories
“Messieurs, I make it a point of declaring to you solemnly, in the
presence of General Feraud, that our difference is at last settled for
good. You may inform all the world of that fact.”
</p>
<p>
“A reconciliation, after all!” they exclaimed together.
</p>
<p>
“Reconciliation? Not that exactly. It is something much more binding. Is
it not so, General?”
</p>
<p>
General Feraud only lowered his head in sign of assent. The two veterans
looked at each other. Later in the day, when they found themselves alone
out of their moody friend’s earshot, the cuirassier remarked suddenly,
“Generally speaking, I can see with my one eye as far as most people; but
this beats me. He won’t say anything.”
</p>
<p>
“In this affair of honour I understand there has been from first to last
always something that no one in the army could quite make out,” declared
the chasseur with the imperfect nose. “In mystery it began, in mystery it
went on, in mystery it is to end, apparently.”
</p>
<p>
General D’Hubert walked home with long, hasty strides, by no means
uplifted by a sense of triumph. He had conquered, yet it did not seem to
him that he had gained very much by his conquest. The night before he had
grudged the risk of his life which appeared to him magnificent, worthy of
preservation as an opportunity to win a girl’s love. He had known moments
when, by a marvellous illusion, this love seemed to be already his, and
his threatened life a still more magnificent opportunity of devotion. Now
that his life was safe it had suddenly lost its special magnificence. It
had acquired instead a specially alarming aspect as a snare for the
exposure of unworthiness. As to the marvellous illusion of conquered love
that had visited him for a moment in the agitated watches of the night,
which might have been his last on earth, he comprehended now its true
nature. It had been merely a paroxysm of delirious conceit. Thus to this
man, sobered by the victorious issue of a duel, life appeared robbed of
its charm, simply because it was no longer menaced.
</p>
<p>
Approaching the house from the back, through the orchard and the kitchen
garden, he could not notice the agitation which reigned in front. He never
met a single soul. Only while walking softly along the corridor, he became
aware that the house was awake and more noisy than usual. Names of
servants were being called out down below in a confused noise of coming
and going. With some concern he noticed that the door of his own room
stood ajar, though the shutters had not been opened yet. He had hoped that
his early excursion would have passed unperceived.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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