ld
than of being killed; men who kissed the wife and dispatched the husband
with equal skill and as little noise as might be; men who were feared by
a rough, swaggering, raucous soldiery, whom they only knew through the
hard-faced sergeants; men, in fact, who lived out their debonair,
picturesquely evil lives to the satisfaction of themselves and of few
others.

On this occasion Colonel Wallenloup, the commandant, was not present. Of
him it was told that while still a lieutenant he had been offered, as a
reward for services rendered to the Crown, the command of any Maasaun
regiment he might choose to select, and he had replied that he would
rather be a lieutenant of the Guard than a field-marshal elsewhere. And
so he remained to favour the mess with his somewhat blood-and-iron
jokes. The mess-room was a spacious hall, and though only three men sat
at table the place seemed full of life and colour from the black
polished flooring to the carved and vaulted ceiling, from which hung in
tattered folds the old banners of the regiment. Red hangings partially
draped the dark walls, and over all the light from the stained dome fell
in rich colour; while through the talk of the men ran the one weird
sound that never ceased about those walls, the whimpering of the wind.

Suddenly the door opened, and a young man, small and thin, with a faint
down upon his upper lip, entered quickly.

'Unziar has won!' he cried.

'Won what?' asked Adiron, the senior man present, as he poured out
another glass of wine.

'Won his second match against Abenfeldt with seven to spare.'

Adiron stretched his legs and leant back; his figure was well adapted
for leaning back.

'My good Adolph, explain yourself.'

'Hadn't you heard of it? Why, they arranged it last night at Countess
Sagan's.'

'Abenfeldt fancies himself as a shot, but he forgot he had to do with
Unziar,' laughed Captain Adiron.

'Abenfeldt bet that he could shoot more swallows in half an hour before
breakfast than any man in Revonde. That was in September, you know, and
Unziar took him up--with service revolvers--and shot fifteen, winning
easily. Abenfeldt can't get over it, and challenged him to a
shooting-match again last night. I say,' Adolph broke off, and his face
altered; he thrust out a little foot and surveyed the spurred boot that
covered it critically, 'I've just ridden back from Brale. That new
charger of mine bolted down the hill by the paling. I went to see
Inserma