It was now the turn of Lieut.  Feraud to be astonished.  “What the devil are you telling me there?” he murmured, faintly, and fell into such profound wonder that he could only follow mechanically the motions of Lieut.  D’Hubert.  The two officers, one tall, with an interesting face and a moustache the colour of ripe corn, the other, short and sturdy, with a hooked nose and a thick crop of black curly hair, approached the mistress of the house to take their leave.  Madame de Lionne, a woman of eclectic taste, smiled upon these armed young men with impartial sensibility and an equal share of interest.  Madame de Lionne took her delight in the infinite variety of the human species.  All the other eyes in the drawing-room followed the departing officers; and when they had gone out one or two men, who had already heard of the duel, imparted the information to the sylph-like ladies, who received it with faint shrieks of humane concern.

Meantime, the two hussars walked side by side, Lieut.  Feraud trying to master the hidden reason of things which in this instance eluded the grasp of his intellect, Lieut.  D’Hubert feeling annoyed at the part he had to play, because the general’s instructions were that he should see personally that Lieut.  Feraud carried out his orders to the letter, and at once.

“The chief seems to know this animal,” he thought, eyeing his companion, whose round face, the round eyes, and even the twisted-up jet black little moustache seemed animated by a mental exasperation against the incomprehensible.  And aloud he observed rather reproachfully, “The general is in a devilish fury with you!”

Lieut.  Feraud stopped short on the edge of the pavement, and cried in accents of unmistakable sincerity, “What on earth for?” The innocence of the fiery Gascon soul was depicted in the manner in which he seized his head in both hands as if to prevent it bursting with perplexity.

“For the duel,” said Lieut.  D’Hubert, curtly.  He was annoyed greatly by this sort of perverse fooling.

“The duel!  The . . .”

Lieut.  Feraud passed from one paroxysm of astonishment into another.  He dropped his hands and walked on slowly, trying to reconcile this information with the state of his own feelings.  It was impossible.  He burst out indignantly, “Was I to let that sauerkraut-eating civilian wipe his boots on the uniform of the 7th Hussars?”

Lieut.  D’Hubert could not remain altogether unmoved by that simple sentiment.  This little fellow was a lunatic, he thought to himself, but there was something in what he said.

“Of course, I don’t know how far you were justified,” he began, soothingly.  “And the general himself may not be exactly informed.  Those people have been deafening him with their lamentations.”

“Ah! the general is not exactly informed,” mumbled Lieut.  Feraud, walking faster and faster as his choler at the injustice of his fate began to rise.  “He is not exactly . . .  And he orders me under close arrest, with God knows what afterwards!”