Twice already he had to break ground. It
bothered him to feel his foothold made insecure by the round, dry gravel
of the path rolling under the hard soles of his boots. This was most
unsuitable ground, he thought, keeping a watchful, narrowed gaze, shaded
by long eyelashes, upon the fiery stare of his thick-set adversary. This
absurd affair would ruin his reputation of a sensible, well-behaved,
promising young officer. It would damage, at any rate, his immediate
prospects, and lose him the good-will of his general. These worldly
preoccupations were no doubt misplaced in view of the solemnity of the
moment. A duel, whether regarded as a ceremony in the cult of honour, or
even when reduced in its moral essence to a form of manly sport, demands
a perfect singleness of intention, a homicidal austerity of mood. On
the other hand, this vivid concern for his future had not a bad effect
inasmuch as it began to rouse the anger of Lieut. D'Hubert. Some seventy
seconds had elapsed since they had crossed blades, and Lieut.
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