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A score of fur-capped, hairy horsemen rode to and fro, brandishing their lances in ominous silence; but the two officers had no mind to lay down their arms, and Colonel Feraud suddenly spoke up in a hoarse, growling voice, bringing his firelock to the shoulder. "You take the nearest brute, Colonel D'Hubert; I'll settle the next one. I am a better shot than you are."
"Feraud of sorts. Offspring of a blacksmith and some village troll. See what comes of mixing yourself up with that sort of people." "You have made shoes yourself, Chevalier." "Yes. But I am not the son of a shoemaker. Neither are you, Monsieur D'Hubert.
The unfavourable opinion entertained of him in Bonapartist circles, though it rested on nothing more solid than the unsupported pronouncement of General Feraud, was directly responsible for General D'Hubert's retention on the active list. As to General Feraud, his rank was confirmed, too.
In anger, he could have killed that man, but in cold blood, he recoiled from humiliating this unreasonable being a fellow soldier of the Grand Armée, his companion in the wonders and terrors of the military epic. "You don't set up the pretension of dictating to me what I am to do with what is my own." General Feraud looked startled.
One afternoon, sitting on the terrasse of the Cafe Tortoni, General D'Hubert learned from the conversation of two strangers occupying a table near his own, that General Feraud, included in the batch of superior officers arrested after the second return of the king, was in danger of passing before the Special Commission.
Passing through Magdeburg on service this last allowed himself, while seated gloomily at dinner with the Commandant de Place, to say of his lifelong adversary: "This man does not love the emperor," and as his words were received in profound silence Colonel Feraud, troubled in his conscience at the atrocity of the aspersion, felt the need to back it up by a good argument.
The gardener remained glued to the tree, his toothless mouth open in idiotic astonishment, and a little farther up the path the pretty girl, as if spellbound to a small grass plot, ran a few steps this way and that, wringing her hands and muttering crazily. She did not rush between the combatants: the onslaughts of Lieut. Feraud were so fierce that her heart failed her. Lieut.
At the same time he observed that the girl had over her arm a pair of hussar's breeches, red with a blue stripe. "Lieutenant Feraud at home?" he inquired benevolently. "Oh, no, sir. He went out at six this morning." And the little maid tried to close the door, but Lieutenant D'Hubert, opposing this move with gentle firmness, stepped into the anteroom jingling his spurs. "Come, my dear.
You had better make it up, like two good fellows. Do!" "You don't know what you ask," murmured Lieutenant D'Hubert in a feeble voice. "However, if he..." In another part of the meadow the seconds of Lieutenant Feraud were urging him to go over and shake hands with his adversary. "You have paid him off now que diable. It's the proper thing to do. This D'Hubert is a decent fellow."
Lieutenant Feraud had been visibly annoyed at being called away. That was natural enough; no man likes to be disturbed in a conversation with a lady famed for her elegance and sensibility» But, in truth, the subject bored Madame de Lionne since her personality could by no stretch of imagination be connected with this affair.
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