is a sentiment which is incompatible with the rank of colonel of cavalry.  The colonel himself was overcome by the unpleasant novelty of the sensation.  As he was not accustomed to think except on professional matters connected with the welfare of men and horses, and the proper use thereof on the field of glory, his intellectual efforts degenerated into mere mental repetitions of profane language.  “Mille tonnerres! . . .  Sacre nom de nom . . .” he thought.

Lieut.  D’Hubert coughed painfully, and added in a weary voice:  “There will be plenty of evil tongues to say that I’ve been cowed.  And I am sure you will not expect me to pass that over.  I may find myself suddenly with a dozen duels on my hands instead of this one affair.”

The direct simplicity of this argument came home to the colonel’s understanding.  He looked at his subordinate fixedly.  “Sit down, Lieutenant!” he said, gruffly.  “This is the very devil of a . . .  Sit down!”

“Mon Colonel,” D’Hubert began again, “I am not afraid of evil tongues.  There’s a way of silencing them.  But there’s my peace of mind, too.  I wouldn’t be able to shake off the notion that I’ve ruined a brother officer.  Whatever action you take, it is bound to go farther.  The inquiry has been dropped—­let it rest now.  It would have been absolutely fatal to Feraud.”

“Hey!  What!  Did he behave so badly?”

“Yes.  It was pretty bad,” muttered Lieut.  D’Hubert.  Being still very weak, he felt a disposition to cry.

As the other man did not belong to his own regiment the colonel had no difficulty in believing this.  He began to pace up and down the room.  He was a good chief, a man capable of discreet sympathy.  But he was human in other ways, too, and this became apparent because he was not capable of artifice.

“The very devil, Lieutenant,” he blurted out, in the innocence of his heart, “is that I have declared my intention to get to the bottom of this affair.  And when a colonel says something . . . you see . . .”

Lieut.  D’Hubert broke in earnestly:  “Let me entreat you, Colonel, to be satisfied with taking my word of honour that I was put into a damnable position where I had no option; I had no choice whatever, consistent with my dignity as a man and an officer. . . .  After all, Colonel, this fact is the very bottom of this affair.  Here you’ve got it.  The rest is mere detail. . . .”

The colonel stopped short.  The reputation of Lieut.  D’Hubert for good sense and good temper weighed in the balance.  A cool head, a warm heart, open as the day.  Always correct in his behaviour.  One had to trust him.  The colonel repressed manfully an immense curiosity.  “H’m!  You affirm that as a man and an officer. . . .  No option?  Eh?”

“As an officer—­an officer of the 4th Hussars, too,” insisted Lieut.  D’Hubert, “I had not.  And that is the bottom of the affair, Colonel.”

“Yes.  But still I don’t see why, to one’s colonel. . . .  A colonel is a father—­que diable!”