thing can
account for such inhumanity but the sanguinary madness of the Revolution
which has tainted a whole generation," mused the returned _emigre_ in a
low tone. "Who is your adversary?" he asked a little louder.

"What? My adversary! His name is Feraud." Shadowy in his_ tricorne_ and
old-fashioned clothes like a bowed thin ghost of the _ancien regime_ the
Chevalier voiced a ghostly memory.

"I can remember the feud about little Sophie Derval between Monsieur de
Brissac, captain in the Bodyguards and d'Anjorrant. Not the pockmarked
one. The other. The Beau d'Anjorrant as they called him. They met three
times in eighteen months in a most gallant manner. It was the fault of
that little Sophie, too, who _would_ keep on playing..."

"This is nothing of the kind," interrupted General D'Hubert. He laughed
a little sardonically. "Not at all so simple," he added. "Nor yet half
so reasonable," he finished inaudibly between his teeth and ground them
with rage.

After this sound nothing troubled the silence for a long time till the
Chevalier asked without animation:

"What is he--this Feraud?"

"Lieutenant of Hussars, too--I mean he's a general. A Gascon. Son of a
blacksmith, I believe."

"There! I thought so. That Bonaparte had a special predilection for
the _canaille_. I don't mean this for you, D'Hubert. You are one of us,
though you have served this usurper who..."

"Let's leave him out of this," broke in General D'Hubert.

The Chevalier shrugged his peaked shoulders.

"A Feraud of sorts. Offspring of a blacksmith and some village troll....
See what comes of mixing yourself up with that sort of people."

"You have made shoes yourself, Chevalier."

"Yes. But I am not the son of a shoemaker. Neither are you, Monsieur
D'Hubert. You and I have something that your Bonaparte's, princes,
dukes, and marshals have not because there's no power on earth that
could give it to them," retorted the _emigre_, with the rising animation
of a man who has got hold of a hopeful argument. "Those people don't
exist--all these Ferauds. Feraud! What is Feraud? A _va-nu-pieds_
disguised into a general by a Corsican adventurer masquerading as an
emperor. There is no earthly reason for a D'Hubert to _s'encanailler_
by a duel with a person of that sort. You can make your excuses to him
perfectly well. And if the _manant_ takes it into his head to decline
them you may simply refuse to meet him." "You say I may do that?" "Yes.
With the cle