“I represented to him that it would be only fair to give you authentic news of your adversary,” he continued.  “You’ll be glad to hear he’s getting better fast.”

Lieutenant D’Hubert’s face exhibited no conventional signs of gladness.  He continued to walk the floor of the dusty bare room.

“Take this chair, doctor,” he mumbled.

The doctor sat down.

“This affair is variously appreciated in town and in the army.  In fact the diversity of opinions is amusing.”

“Is it?” mumbled Lieutenant D’Hubert, tramping steadily from wall to wall.  But within himself he marvelled that there could be two opinions on the matter.  The surgeon continued: 

“Of course as the real facts are not known—­”

“I should have thought,” interrupted D’Hubert, “that the fellow would have put you in possession of the facts.”

“He did say something,” admitted the other, “the first time I saw him.  And, by-the-bye, I did find him in the garden.  The thump on the back of his head had made him a little incoherent then.  Afterwards he was rather reticent than otherwise.”

“Didn’t think he would have the grace to be ashamed,” grunted D’Hubert, who had stood still for a moment.  He resumed his pacing while the doctor murmured.

“It’s very amusing.  Ashamed?  Shame was not exactly his frame of mind.  However, you may look at the matter otherwise——­”

“What are you talking about?  What matter?” asked D’Hubert with a sidelong look at the heavy-faced, gray-haired figure seated on a wooden chair.

“Whatever it is,” said the surgeon, “I wouldn’t pronounce an opinion on your conduct....”

“By heavens, you had better not,” burst out D’Hubert.

“There!  There!  Don’t be so quick in flourishing the sword.  It doesn’t pay in the long run.  Understand once for all that I would not carve any of you youngsters except with the tools of my trade.  But my advice is good.  Moderate your temper.  If you go on like this you will make for yourself an ugly reputation.”

“Go on like what?” demanded Lieutenant D’Hubert, stopping short, quite startled.  “I!  I! make for myself a reputation....  What do you imagine——­”

“I told you I don’t wish to judge of the rights and wrongs of this incident.  It’s not my business.  Nevertheless....”

“What on earth has he been telling you?” interrupted Lieutenant D’Hubert in a sort of awed scare.

“I told, you already that at first when I picked him up in the garden he was incoherent.  Afterwards he was naturally reticent.  But I gather at least that he could not help himself....”

“He couldn’t?” shouted Lieutenant D’Hubert.  Then lowering his voice, “And what about me?  Could I help myself?”

The surgeon rose.  His thoughts were running upon the flute, his constant companion, with a consoling voice.  In the vicinity of field ambulances, after twenty-four hours’ hard work, he had been known to trouble with its sweet sounds the horrible stillness of battlefields given over to silence and the dead.  The solacing hour of his daily life was approaching and in peace time he held on to the minutes as a miser to his hoard.