er is enough to drive
one mad. I am unjust, ungrateful--yes, ungrateful--and to you!"

"Do not think of me, general. With a kind word at the end, you might
blow me up all the year round. But what has happened?"

The general's countenance again darkened, as he answered rapidly: "I am
looked down upon, and despised!"

"You?"

"Yes I. After all," resumed the marshal bitterly, "why should I conceal
from you this new wound? If I doubted you a moment, I owe you some
compensation, and you shall know all. For some time past, I perceived
that, when I meet any of my old companions in arms, they try to avoid
me--"

"What! was it to this that the anonymous letter alluded?"

"Yes; and it spoke the truth," replied the marshal, with a sigh of grief
and indignation.

"But it is impossible, general--you are so loved and respected--"

"Those are mere words; I speak of positive facts. When I appear, the
conversation is often interrupted. Instead of treating me as an old
comrade, they affect towards me a rigorously cold politeness. There are
a thousand little shades, a thousand trifles, which wound the heart, but
which it is impossible to notice--"

"What you are now saying, general, quite confounds me," replied
Dagobert. "You assure me of it, and I am forced to believe you."

"Oh, it is intolerable! I was resolved to ease my heart of it; so, this
morning, I went to General d'Havrincourt, who was colonel with me in the
Imperial Guard; he is honor and honesty itself. I went to him with
open heart. 'I perceive,' said I, 'the coldness that is shown me. Some
calumny must be circulating to my disadvantage. Tell me all about it.
Knowing the attack, I shall be able to defend myself--'

"Well, general?"

"D'Havrincourt remained impassible ceremoniously polite. To all my
questions he answered coldly: 'I am not aware, my lord duke, that any
calumny has been circulated with regard to you.'--'Do not call me
"my lord duke," my dear D'Havrincourt; we are old fellow-soldiers and
friends, my honor is somewhat touchy, I confess, and I find that you and
our comrades do not receive me so cordially, as in times past. You
do not deny it; I see, I know, I feel it.' To all this D'Havrincourt
answered, with the same coldness: 'I have never seen any one wanting in
respect towards you.'--'I am not talking of respect,' exclaimed I, as
I clasped his hand affectionately, though I observed that he but feebly
returned the pressure; 'I speak of cordiality,