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Updated: May 13, 2025
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 . . ."
General D'Hubert found no difficulty in appearing wreathed in smiles: because, in fact, he was very happy. The middle of the day was spent in strolling or sitting in the shade.
Their general quarters were established in that village over there, where the infernal clodhoppers damn their false, Royalist hearts! looked remarkably cross-eyed at three unassuming military men. For the present he should only ask for the name of General D'Hubert's friends. "What friends?" said the astonished General D'Hubert, completely off the track.
"I can't really discuss this question with a man who, as far as I am concerned, does not exist." When the duellists came out into the open, General Feraud walking a little behind and rather with the air of walking in a trance, the two seconds hurried towards them each from his station at the edge of the wood. General D'Hubert addressed them, speaking loud and distinctly: "Messieurs!
This bracing treatment suited him so well, that at the first rumour of an armistice being signed he could turn without misgivings to the thoughts of his private warfare. This time it was to be regular warfare. He sent two friends to Lieut. D'Hubert, whose regiment was stationed only a few miles away. Those friends had asked no questions of their principal.
I tell you this confidentially." "Upon my word!" broke out General D'Hubert, speaking through his teeth, "if your Excellency deigns to favour me with any more confidential information I don't know what I will do. It's enough to break one's sword over one's knee, and fling the pieces. . . ." "What government you imagined yourself to be serving?" interrupted the minister, sharply.
Thus wrote Colonel D'Hubert from Pomerania to his married sister Léonie, settled in the south of France. And so far the sentiments expressed would not have been disowned by Colonel Feraud who wrote no letters to anybody; whose father had been in life an illiterate blacksmith; who had no sister or brother, and whom no one desired ardently to pair off for a life of peace with a charming young girl.
"Don't dawdle then, damn you for a coldblooded staff-coxcomb!" he roared out suddenly out of an impassive face held erect on a rigid body. General D'Hubert uncocked the pistols carefully. This proceeding was observed with a sort of gloomy astonishment by the other general. "You missed me twice," he began coolly, shifting both pistols to one hand. "The last time within a foot or so.
Travelling slowly south to his sister's country house, under the care of a trusty old servant, General D'Hubert was spared the humiliating contacts and the perplexities of conduct which assailed the men of the Napoleonic empire at the moment of its downfall.
He walked home with measured steps, struck a light with his flint and steel, and lit his tallow candle. Then, snatching an unlucky glass tumbler off the mantelpiece, he dashed it violently on the floor. Now that D'Hubert was an officer of a rank superior to his own, there could be no question of a duel.
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