ticed him, and he didn't see it. He was troubled by his old
complaint."

"What s his old complaint?" Catherine asked.

"Prudence," I said, seeing my chance to help.

But it was not a fortunate remark, for the Paladin said:

"It probably isn't your turn to criticize people's prudence--you who fall
out of the saddle when a donkey brays."

They all laughed, and I was ashamed of myself for my hasty smartness. I
said:

"It isn't quite fair for you to say I fell out on account of the donkey's
braying. It was emotion, just ordinary emotion."

"Very well, if you want to call it that, I am not objecting. What would
you call it, Sir Bertrand?"

"Well, it--well, whatever it was, it was excusable, I think. All of you
have learned how to behave in hot hand-to-hand engagements, and you don't
need to be ashamed of your record in that matter; but to walk along in
front of death, with one's hands idle, and no noise, no music, and
nothing going on, is a very trying situation. If I were you, De Conte, I
would name the emotion; it's nothing to be ashamed of."

It was as straight and sensible a speech as ever I heard, and I was
grateful for the opening it gave me; so I came out and said:

"It was fear--and thank you for the honest idea, too."

"It was the cleanest and best way out," said the old treasurer; "you've
done well, my lad."

That made me comfortable, and when Miss Catherine said, "It's what I
think, too," I was grateful to myself for getting into that scrape.

Sir Jean de Metz said:

"We were all in a body together when the donkey brayed, and it was
dismally still at the time. I don't see how any young campaigner could
escape some little touch of that emotion."

He looked about him with a pleasant expression of inquiry on his good
face, and as each pair of eyes in turn met his head they were in nodded a
confession. Even the Paladin delivered his nod. That surprised everybody,
and saved the Standard-Bearer's credit. It was clever of him; nobody
believed he could tell the truth that way without practice, or would tell
that particular sort of a truth either with or without practice. I
suppose he judged it would favorably impress the family. Then the old
treasurer said:

"Passing the forts in that trying way required the same sort of nerve
that a person must have when ghosts are about him in the dark, I should
think. What does the Standard-Bearer think?"

"Well, I don't quite know about that, sir. I've often thoug