The merits of the two officers as combatants were frankly discussed; but their attitude to each other after the duel was criticised lightly and with caution.  It was irreconcilable, and that was to be regretted.  After all, they knew best what the care of their honour dictated.  It was not a matter for their comrades to pry into overmuch.  As to the origin of the quarrel, the general impression was that it dated from the time they were holding garrison in Strasburg.  Only the musical surgeon shook his head at that.  It went much farther back, he hinted discreetly.

“Why!  You must know the whole story,” cried several voices, eager with curiosity.  “You were there!  What was it?”

He raised his eyes from his glass deliberately and said: 

“Even if I knew ever so well, you can’t expect me to tell you, since both the principals choose to say nothing.”

He got up and went out, leaving the sense of mystery behind him.  He could not stay longer because the witching hour of flute-playing was drawing near.  After he had gone a very young officer observed solemnly: 

“Obviously!  His lips are sealed.”

Nobody questioned the high propriety of that remark.  Somehow it added to the impressiveness of the affair.  Several older officers of both regiments, prompted by nothing but sheer kindness and love of harmony, proposed to form a Court of Honour to which the two officers would leave the task of their reconciliation.  Unfortunately, they began by approaching Lieutenant Feraud.  The assumption was, that having just scored heavily, he would be found placable and disposed to moderation.

The reasoning was sound enough; nevertheless, the move turned out unfortunate.  In that relaxation of moral fibre which is brought about by the ease of soothed vanity, Lieutenant Feraud had condescended in the secret of his heart to review the case, and even to doubt not the justice of his cause, but the absolute sagacity of his conduct.  This being so, he was disinclined to talk about it.  The suggestion of the regimental wise men put him in a difficult position.  He was disgusted, and this disgust by a sort of paradoxical logic reawakened his animosity against Lieutenant D’Hubert.  Was he to be pestered with this fellow for ever—­the fellow who had an infernal knack of getting round people somehow?  On the other hand, it was difficult to refuse point-blank that sort of mediation sanctioned by the code of honour.

Lieutenant Feraud met the difficulty by an attitude of fierce reserve.  He twisted his moustache and used vague words.  His case was perfectly clear.  He was not ashamed to present it, neither was he afraid to defend it personally.  He did not see any reason to jump at the suggestion before ascertaining how his adversary was likely to take it.

Later in the day, his exasperation growing upon him, he was heard in a public place saying sardonically “that it would be the very luckiest thing for Lieutenant D’Hubert, since next time of meeting he need not hope to get off with a mere trifle of three weeks in bed.”