having slashed hard enough to cut his man clean in two abode with him
for a while in an exaggerated memory of the right good-will he had
put into the blow. He dropped on his knees hastily by the side of the
prostrate body. Discovering that not even the arm was severed, a slight
sense of disappointment mingled with the feeling of relief. The fellow
deserved the worst. But truly he did not want the death of that sinner.
The affair was ugly enough as it stood, and Lieut. D'Hubert addressed
himself at once to the task of stopping the bleeding. In this task it
was his fate to be ridiculously impeded by the pretty maid. Rending the
air with screams of horror, she attacked him from behind and, twining
her fingers in his hair, tugged back at his head. Why she should
choose to hinder him at this precise moment he could not in the least
understand. He did not try. It was all like a very wicked and harassing
dream. Twice to save himself from being pulled over he had to rise and
fling her off. He did this stoically, without a word, kneeling down
again at once to go on with his work. But the third time, his work being
done, he seized her and held her arms pinned to her body. Her cap was
half off, her face was red, her eyes blazed with crazy boldness. He
looked mildly into them while she called him a wretch, a traitor, and a
murderer many times in succession. This did not annoy him so much as the
conviction that she had managed to scratch his face abundantly. Ridicule
would be added to the scandal of the story. He imagined the adorned tale
making its way through the garrison of the town, through the whole army
on the frontier, with every possible distortion of motive and sentiment
and circumstance, spreading a doubt upon the sanity of his conduct and
the distinction of his taste even to the very ears of his honourable
family. It was all very well for that fellow Feraud, who had no
connections, no family to speak of, and no quality but courage, which,
anyhow, was a matter of course, and possessed by every single trooper
in the whole mass of French cavalry. Still holding down the arms of the
girl in a strong grip, Lieut. D'Hubert glanced over his shoulder. Lieut.
Feraud had opened his eyes. He did not move. Like a man just waking from
a deep sleep he stared without any expression at the evening sky.

Lieut. D'Hubert's urgent shouts to the old gardener produced no
effect--not so much as to make him shut his toothless mouth. Then
he remem