When his two years’ service with the Cavalry were ended, he was
transferred, with his step as lieutenant, but still in the capacity of
Assistant-Adjutant, to the First Battalion, 999th Regiment of the Line,
Paris; quartered in the Barracks of the Rue de l’Assyrie.
With the return to the familiar places of his boyhood, those things
that Hector thought he had forgotten began to revive sufficiently to
sting. A brother-officer spoke to him of de Moulny, who had quitted St.
Sulpice a year previously, under a shadow so dark, it was discreetly
hinted, that only the paternal influence had saved him from expulsion.
Hector did not blaze out in passionate defense or exoneration of his
whilom comrade and friend. He said, briefly and coldly: “Those who say
so lie! I used to know him!” And dropped the subject, as the chatterer
was glad to do. For that duel fought by two schoolboys with disbuttoned
fencing-foils six years before, was to be the first upon a list that
grew and lengthened, and kept on growing and lengthening.... Unless you
were desirous of cold steel for breakfast, there were subjects that
must not be trifled with in the hearing of Assistant-Adjutant Hector
Dunoisse.
The Catholic Church: Religious, particularly nuns; more particularly
nuns of the Carmelite Order: ... instances of foul play in trials of
strength and skill, particularly shady _coups_ in fencing, slim tricks
in the Game of the Sword. With other cause of offense provoking the
_quid rides_? you never were quite sure where they might crop up.
And the fellow was a fighter--loved risk, enjoyed danger....
Was the grass more slippery at one end of the paced-out ground than the
other? There was no necessity to toss up unless Monsieur, the other
principal, insisted on observance of the strict formality--Dunoisse
rather preferred slippery grass. Was the sun in the eyes of Monsieur
the other principal? Change about by all means--Dunoisse rather enjoyed
facing the glare that made you blink. The gusty wind that might deflect
your pistol-bullet, the blowing dust that drifted into your eyes, mouth
and nostrils, and that might provoke a cough or sneeze, just at the
wrong moment for the swordsman; these conditions, justly regarded as
unfavorable to continued existence, were rather courted than otherwise
by this young officer of the Staff.
At Blidah, it had been told about, that an Arab sorceress had given the
sub-Adjutant a charm, insuring success in the duel. Only, to insure
this, the holder of the amulet must embrace the contrary odds and court
the handicap. This story trotted back to Paris at Dunoisse’s heels; it
was told behind ladies’ fans in every drawing-room he entered. Women
liked it, it was so romantic; but men sneered, knowing the truth.
The truth, according to Pédelaborde, that is....
Like a poisonous thorn, that implied accusation of foul play made by
the dentist’s nephew on that morning when Redskin had visited the
convalescent de Moulny in the Infirmary of the School, had rankled in
the victim’s flesh since it had been planted there. Honest Pédelaborde
had not been idle in spreading the story and ornamenting it. Nor, if
the truth had been known, had de Moulny been the only hearer who had
paid him to tell it no more.
Mud is mud, though in contrast with the foulness of the hands that
plaster it upon your garments, the vile stuff seems almost clean; and
a slander listened to is a slander half-believed. The Pédelabordes
invariably find listeners; there are always paying customers for offal,
or those who deal in it might find a more sweetly-smelling trade.