dry gravel of the path rolling under the hard soles of his boots.  This was most unsuitable ground, he thought, keeping a watchful, narrowed gaze, shaded by long eyelashes, upon the fiery stare of his thick-set adversary.  This absurd affair would ruin his reputation of a sensible, well-behaved, promising young officer.  It would damage, at any rate, his immediate prospects, and lose him the good-will of his general.  These worldly preoccupations were no doubt misplaced in view of the solemnity of the moment.  A duel, whether regarded as a ceremony in the cult of honour, or even when reduced in its moral essence to a form of manly sport, demands a perfect singleness of intention, a homicidal austerity of mood.  On the other hand, this vivid concern for his future had not a bad effect inasmuch as it began to rouse the anger of Lieut.  D’Hubert.  Some seventy seconds had elapsed since they had crossed blades, and Lieut.  D’Hubert had to break ground again in order to avoid impaling his reckless adversary like a beetle for a cabinet of specimens.  The result was that misapprehending the motive, Lieut.  Feraud with a triumphant sort of snarl pressed his attack.

“This enraged animal will have me against the wall directly,” thought Lieut.  D’Hubert.  He imagined himself much closer to the house than he was, and he dared not turn his head; it seemed to him that he was keeping his adversary off with his eyes rather more than with his point.  Lieut.  Feraud crouched and bounded with a fierce tigerish agility fit to trouble the stoutest heart.  But what was more appalling than the fury of a wild beast, accomplishing in all innocence of heart a natural function, was the fixity of savage purpose man alone is capable of displaying.  Lieut.  D ’Hubert in the midst of his worldly preoccupations perceived it at last.  It was an absurd and damaging affair to be drawn into, but whatever silly intention the fellow had started with, it was clear enough that by this time he meant to kill—­nothing less.  He meant it with an intensity of will utterly beyond the inferior faculties of a tiger.

As is the case with constitutionally brave men, the full view of the danger interested Lieut.  D’Hubert.  And directly he got properly interested, the length of his arm and the coolness of his head told in his favour.  It was the turn of Lieut.  Feraud to recoil, with a bloodcurdling grunt of baffled rage.  He made a swift feint, and then rushed straight forward.

“Ah! you would, would you?” Lieut.  D’Hubert exclaimed, mentally.  The combat had lasted nearly two minutes, time enough for any man to get embittered, apart from the merits of the quarrel.  And all at once it was over.  Trying to close breast to breast under his adversary’s guard Lieut.  Feraud received a slash on his shortened arm.  He did not feel it in the least, but it checked his rush, and his feet slipping on the gravel he fell backwards with great violence.  The shock jarred his boiling brain into the perfect quietude of insensibility.  Simultaneously with his fall the pretty servant-girl shrieked; but the old maiden lady at the window ceased her scolding, and began to cross herself piously.