"The duel! The . . ."
Lieut. Feraud passed from one paroxysm of astonishment into another.
He dropped his hands and walked on slowly, trying to reconcile this
information with the state of his own feelings. It was impossible. He
burst out indignantly, "Was I to let that sauerkraut-eating civilian
wipe his boots on the uniform of the 7th Hussars?"
Lieut. D'Hubert could not remain altogether unmoved by that simple
sentiment. This little fellow was a lunatic, he thought to himself, but
there was something in what he said.
"Of course, I don't know how far you were justified," he began,
soothingly. "And the general himself may not be exactly informed. Those
people have been deafening him with their lamentations."
"Ah! the general is not exactly informed," mumbled Lieut. Feraud,
walking faster and faster as his choler at the injustice of his fate
began to rise. "He is not exactly . . . And he orders me under close
arrest, with God knows what afterwards!"
"Don't excite yourself like this," remonstrated the other.
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