the true story of the affair of honour, whose claim, so imperative and so persistent, had led her to within an ace of tragedy. &ldquo;It is right that his wife should be told. And next month or so will be your time to learn from him anything you want to know, my dear child.&rdquo; </p> <p> Later on, when the married couple came on a visit to the mother of the bride, Madame la Generale D&rsquo;Hubert communicated to her beloved old uncle the true story she had obtained without any difficulty from her husband. </p> <p> The Chevalier listened with deep attention to the end, took a pinch of snuff, flicked the grains of tobacco from the frilled front of his shirt, and asked, calmly, &ldquo;And that&rsquo;s all it was?&rdquo; </p> <p> &ldquo;Yes, uncle,&rdquo; replied Madame la Generale, opening her pretty eyes very wide. &ldquo;Isn&rsquo;t it funny? C&rsquo;est insense&mdash;to think what men are capable of!&rdquo; </p> <p> &ldquo;H&rsquo;m!&rdquo; commented the old emigre. &ldquo;It depends what sort of men. That Bonaparte&rsquo;s soldiers were savages. It is insense. As a wife, my dear, you must believe implicitly what your husband says.&rdquo; </p> <p> But to Leonie&rsquo;s husband the Chevalier confided his true opinion. &ldquo;If that&rsquo;s the tale the fellow made up for his wife, and during the honeymoon, too, you may depend on it that no one will ever know now the secret of this affair.&rdquo; </p> <p> Considerably later still, General D&rsquo;Hubert judged the time come, and the opportunity propitious to write a letter to General Feraud. This letter began by disclaiming all animosity. &ldquo;I&rsquo;ve never,&rdquo; wrote the General Baron D&rsquo;Hubert, &ldquo;wished for your death during all the time of our deplorable quarrel. Allow me,&rdquo; he continued, &ldquo;to give you back in all form your forfeited life. It is proper that we two, who have been partners in so much military glory, should be friendly to each other publicly.&rdquo; </p> <p> The same letter contained also an item of domestic information. It was in reference to this last that General Feraud answered from a little village on the banks of the Garonne, in the following words: </p> <p> &ldquo;If one of your boy&rsquo;s names had been Napoleon&mdash;or Joseph&mdash;or even Joachim, I could congratulate you on the event with a better heart. As you have thought proper to give him the names of Charles Henri Armand, I am confirmed in my conviction that you never loved the Emperor. The thought of that sublime hero chained to a rock in the middle of a savage ocean makes life of so little value that I would receive with positive joy your instructions to blow my brains out.