able. It's the proper thing to do.
This D'Hubert is a decent fellow."

"I know the decency of these generals' pets," muttered Lieut. Feraud
through his teeth, and the sombre expression of his face discouraged
further efforts at reconciliation. The seconds, bowing from a distance,
took their men off the field. In the afternoon Lieut. D'Hubert, very
popular as a good comrade uniting great bravery with a frank and equable
temper, had many visitors. It was remarked that Lieut. Feraud did not,
as is customary, show himself much abroad to receive the felicitations
of his friends. They would not have failed him, because he, too, was
liked for the exuberance of his southern nature and the simplicity of
his character. In all the places where officers were in the habit of
assembling at the end of the day the duel of the morning was talked over
from every point of view. Though Lieut. D'Hubert had got worsted this
time, his sword play was commended. No one could deny that it was very
close, very scientific. It was even whispered that if he got touched it
was because he wished to spare his adversary. But by many the vigour and
dash of Lieut. Feraud's attack were pronounced irresistible.

The merits of the two officers as combatants were frankly discussed; but
their attitude to each other after the duel was criticised lightly and
with caution. It was irreconcilable, and that was to be regretted. But
after all they knew best what the care of their honour dictated. It was
not a matter for their comrades to pry into over-much. As to the origin
of the quarrel, the general impression was that it dated from the time
they were holding garrison in Strasbourg. The musical surgeon shook his
head at that. It went much farther back, he thought.

"Why, of course! You must know the whole story," cried several voices,
eager with curiosity. "What was it?"

He raised his eyes from his glass deliberately. "Even if I knew ever so
well, you can't expect me to tell you, since both the principals choose
to say nothing."

He got up and went out, leaving the sense of mystery behind him. He
could not stay any longer, because the witching hour of flute-playing
was drawing near.

After he had gone a very young officer observed solemnly, "Obviously,
his lips are sealed!"

Nobody questioned the high correctness of that remark. Somehow it added
to the impressiveness of the affair. Several older officers of both
regiments, prompted by nothing but sheer kin