VALOR IN RETROSPECT
In the month of May, when the chestnuts bloom in the green dells,
where the delicate young foliage holds the light as in golden cups, a
young man walked through one of the small _allées_ of the Bois at the
fashionable noon hour, a little reddish dog trotting at his heels.
The young man walked with an imperceptible limp. He was thin as men
are thin who have lived hard and who have overcome tremendous
obstacles. He was tanned as men are browned who have come from
eastern and extreme southern countries.
The little dog had also an imperceptible limp occasioned by a bicycle
running over him when he was a puppy.
The two companions seemed immensely to enjoy the spring day. Sabron
every now and then stood for a few moments looking into the green of
the woods, looking at the gay passers-by, pedestrians and
equestrians, enjoying to the full the repose of civilization, the
beauty of his own land.
Pitchouné looked with indifference upon the many dogs. He did not
stir from his master's side. When Sabron was quiet, the little
animal stood at attention; he was a soldier's dog. He could have
told dog stories to those insignificant worldly dogs--could have told
of really thrilling adventures. His brown eyes were pathetic with
their appeal of affection as they looked up at his beloved master.
He had a fund of experience such as the poodles and the terriers led
by their owners, could not understand. Therefore Pitchouné was
indifferent to them. Not one of those petted, ridiculous house dogs
could have run for miles in the dark across an African desert, could
have found the regiment and fetched relief to his master. Pitchouné
was proud of it. He was very well satisfied with his career. He was
still young; other deeds of valor perhaps lay before him--who can
tell? At any rate, he had been shown about at the ministry of war,
been very much admired, and he was a proud animal.
When Sabron spoke to him he leaped upon him and wagged his tail.
After a few moments, as the two stood near the exit of an _allée_
leading to one of the grand avenues, Pitchouné slowly went in front
of his master and toward two ladies sitting on a bench in the gentle
warmth of the May sunlight. Pitchouné, moved from his usual
indifference, gave a short bark, walked up to the ladies, and began
to snuff about their feet. The younger lady exclaimed, and then
Sabron, lifting his hat, came forward, the crimson color beating in
his dark tanned cheeks.
The Marquise d'Esclignac held out both hands to the officer:
"It's nearly noon," she said, "and you don't forget that you have
promised to lunch with us, do you, Monsieur le Capitaine?"
Sabron, bending over her hand, assured her that he had not forgotten.
Then his eyes traveled to her companion. Miss Redmond wore a very
simple dress, as was her fashion, but the young officer from Africa
who had not seen her near by until now and who had only caught a
glimpse of her across the opera-house, thought that he had never seen
such a beautiful dress in all his life. It was made of soft gray
cloth and fitted her closely, and in the lapel of her mannish little
buttonhole she wore a few Parma violets. He recognized them. They
had come from a bunch that he had sent her the night before. He
kissed her hand, and they stood talking together, the three of them,
for a few moments, Pitchouné stationing himself as a sentinel by Miss
Redmond's side.
The Marquis d'Esclignac rose. The young girl rose as well, and they
walked on together.
"_Mes enfants_," said the Marquise d'Esclignac, "don't go with your
usual rush, Julia. Remember that Monsieur de Sabron is not as strong
as Hercules yet. I will follow you with Pitchouné."
But she spoke without knowledge of the dog. Now feeling that some
unwonted happiness had suddenly burst upon the horizon that he knew,
Pitchouné seemed suddenly seized with a rollicking spirit such as had
been his characteristic some years ago. He tore like mad down the
path in front of Sabron and Miss Redmond. He whirled around like a
dervish, he dashed across the road in front of automobiles, dashed
back again, springing upon his master and whining at the girl's feet.
"See," said Sabron, "how happy he is."
"I should think he would be happy. He must have a knowledge of what
an important animal he is. Just think! If he were a man they would
give him a decoration."
And the two walked tranquilly side by side.
Pitchouné ran to the side of the road, disappeared into a little
forest all shot through with light. He came back, bringing the
remains of an old rubber ball lost there by some other dog, and laid
it triumphantly in front of Miss Redmond.
"See," said Sabron, "he brings you his trophies."