and beg forgiveness for interrupting
the interesting conversation . . .

A bare arm was extended towards him with gracious nonchalance even
before he had finished speaking. He pressed the hand respectfully to his
lips, and made the mental remark that it was bony. Madame de Lionne was
a blonde, with too fine a skin and a long face.

"C'est ca!" she said, with an ethereal smile, disclosing a set of large
teeth. "Come this evening to plead for your forgiveness."

"I will not fail, madame."

Meantime, Lieut. Feraud, splendid in his new dolman and the extremely
polished boots of his calling, sat on a chair within a foot of the
couch, one hand resting on his thigh, the other twirling his moustache
to a point. At a significant glance from D'Hubert he rose without
alacrity, and followed him into the recess of a window.

"What is it you want with me?" he asked, with astonishing indifference.
Lieut. D'Hubert could not imagine that in the innocence of his heart and
simplicity of his conscience Lieut. Feraud took a view of his duel in
which neither remorse nor yet a rational apprehension of consequences
had any place. Though he had no clear recollection how the quarrel had
originated (it was begun in an establishment where beer and wine are
drunk late at night), he had not the slightest doubt of being himself
the outraged party. He had had two experienced friends for his seconds.
Everything had been done according to the rules governing that sort of
adventures. And a duel is obviously fought for the purpose of someone
being at least hurt, if not killed outright. The civilian got hurt.
That also was in order. Lieut. Feraud was perfectly tranquil; but Lieut.
D'Hubert took it for affectation, and spoke with a certain vivacity.

"I am directed by the general to give you the order to go at once to
your quarters, and remain there under close arrest."

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