The Duel by Joseph Conrad - Part 2 of 7

As is the case with constitutionally brave men, the full view of the danger interested Lieutenant Hubert. And Reckley got properly interested. The length of his arm and the coolness of his head told in his favor. It was the turn of Lieutenant Farrad to recoil. With a blood-curdling grunt of baffled rage, he made a swift feint and then rushed straight ahead. Ah, you would, would you? Lieutenant Hubert exclaimed mentally. The combat had lasted nearly two minutes, time enough for any man to get embittered, apart from the merits of the quarrel. And all at once it was over. Trying to close breast to breast under his adversary's guard, Lieutenant Farrad received a slash on his shortened arm. He did not feel it in the least, but it checked his rush. And his feet slipping on the gravel, he fell backwards with great violence. The shock charred his boiling brain into the perfect quietude of insensibility. Simultaneously, with his fall, the pretty servant girl shrieked. But the old maiden lady at the window ceased her scolding and began to cross herself piously. Beholding his adversary stretched out perfectly still, face to the sky, Lieutenant Hubert thought he had killed him outright. The impression of having slashed hard enough to cut his man clean in two abogued with him for a while in an exaggerated memory of the right goodwill he had put into the blow. He dropped on his knees hastily by the side of the prostrate body. Discovering that not even the arm was severed, a slight sense of disappointment mingled with a feeling of relief. The fellow deserved the worst. But truly he did not want the death of that sinner. The affair was ugly enough as it stood, and Lieutenant Hubert addressed himself at once to the task of stopping the bleeding. In this task, it was his fate to be ridiculously impeded by the pretty maid. Rending the air with screams of horror, she attacked him from behind, entwining her fingers in his hair, tugged back at his head. Why she should choose to hinder him at this precise moment, he could not in the least understand. He did not try. It was all like a very wicked and harassing dream. Twice to save himself from being pulled over, he had to rise and flinger off. He did this stoically, without a word. Kneeling down again at once to go on with his work. But the third time, his work being done, he seized her and held her arms pinned to her body. Her cap was half off, her face was red, her eyes blazed with crazy boldness. He looked mildly into them while she called him a wretch, a traitor, and a murderer many times in succession. This did not annoy him so much as the conviction that she had managed to scratch his face abundantly. Ridicule would be added to the scandal of the story. He imagined the adorned tale making its way through the garrison of the town, through the whole army on the frontier, with every possible distortion of motive and sentiment and circumstance, spreading a doubt upon the sanity of his conduct and the distinction of his taste even to the very ears of his honorable family. It was all very well for that fellow fraud, who had no connections, no family to speak of, and no quality but courage, which, anyhow, was a matter of course, and possessed by every single trooper in the whole mass of French cavalry. Still, holding down the arms of the girl in a strong grip, Lieutenant Hubert glanced over his shoulder. Lieutenant Farrad had opened his eyes. He did not move. Like a man just waking from a deep sleep, he stared with out an expression at the evening sky. Lieutenant Hubert's urgent shouts to the old gardener produced no effect, not so much as to make him shut his toothless mouth. Then he remembered that the man was stone deaf. All that time the girl struggled, not with maidenly coyness, but like a pretty dumb fury, kicking his shins now and then. He continued to hold her as in a vice, his instinct telling him that were he to let her go, she would fly at his eyes. But he was greatly humiliated by his position. At last she gave up. She was more exhausted than appeased, he feared. Nevertheless, he attempted to get out of this wicked dream by way of negotiation. Listen to me, he said, as calmly as he could. Will you promise to run for a surgeon if I let you go? With real affliction he heard her declare that she would do nothing of the kind. On the contrary, her sobbed-out intention was to remain in the garden and fight tooth and nail for the protection of the vanquished man. This was shocking. My dear child, he cried in despair, is it possible that you think me capable of murdering a wounded adversary? Is it? Be quiet! You little wildcat, you! They struggled. A thick, drowsy voice said behind him, what are you after with that girl? Lieutenant Farad raised himself on his good arm. He was looking sleepily at his other arm, at the mess of blood on his uniform, at a small red pool on the ground, at his saber lying a foot away on the path. Then he laid himself down gently again to think it all out. As far as a thundering headache would permit of mental operations. Lieutenant Hubert released the girl who crouched at once by the side of the other lieutenant. The shades of night were falling on the little trim garden with this touching group. Whence proceeded low murmurs of sorrow and compassion, with other feeble sounds of a different character, as if an imperfectly awake invalid were trying to swear. Lieutenant Hubert went away. He passed through the silent house and congratulated himself upon the dusk, concealing his gory hands and scratched face from the passers-by. But this story could by no means be concealed. He dreaded the discredit and ridicule above everything, and was painfully aware of sneaking through the back streets in the manner of a murderer. Presently the sounds of a flute coming out of the open window of a lighted upstairs room in a modest house interrupted his dismal reflections. It was being played with a persevering virtuosity, and through the fiorituras of the tune one could hear the regular thumping of the foot beating time on the floor. Lieutenant Hubert shouted a name, which was that of an army surgeon whom he knew fairly well. The sounds of the flute ceased, and the musician appeared at the window, his instrument still in his hand, peering into the street. Who calls? You, Hubert? What brings you this way? He did not like to be disturbed at the hour when he was playing the flute. He was a man whose hair had turned grey already in the thankless task of tying up wounds on battlefields where others reaped advancement in glory. I want you to go at once and see Farrad, you know, Lieutenant Farrad. He lives down the second street. It's but a step from here. What's the matter with him? He's wounded. Are you sure? Sure, cried Hubert. I come from there. That's amusing, said the elderly surgeon. Amusing was his favorite word, but the expression of his face when he pronounced it never corresponded. He was a stolid man. Come in, he added. I'll get ready in a moment. Thanks, I will. I want to wash my hands in your room. Lieutenant Hubert found the surgeon preoccupied in unscrewing his flute and packing the pieces methodically in a case. He turned his head. Water there, in the corner. Your hands do want washing. I've stopped the bleeding, said Lieutenant Hubert. But you had better make haste. It's rather more than ten minutes ago, you know. The surgeon did not hurry his movements. What's the matter? Dressing came off? That's amusing. I've been at work and the hospital all day, but I've been told this morning by somebody that he had come off without a scratch. Not the same duel, probably, growled moodily Lieutenant Hubert, wiping his hands on a coarse towel. Not the same. What? Another? It would take the very devil to make me go out twice in one day. The surgeon looked narrowly at Lieutenant Hubert. How did you come by that scratched face? Both sides, too. And symmetrically. It's amusing. Don't worry, snarled Lieutenant Hubert. And you would find his slashed arm amusing, too. It will keep both of you amused for quite a long time. The doctor was mystified and impressed by the brusque bitterness of Lieutenant Hubert's tone. They left the house together, and in the street he was still more mystified by his conduct. Are you coming with me, he asked. No, said Lieutenant Hubert. You can find the house by yourself. The front door will be standing open, very likely. All right. Where's his room? Ground floor. But you had better go right through and look in the garden first. This astonishing piece of information made the surgeon go off without further parley. Lieutenant Hubert regained his quarters, nursing a hot and uneasy indignation. He dreaded the chaff of his comrades almost as much as the anger of his superiors. The truth was confoundedly grotesque and embarrassing, even putting aside the irregularity of the combat itself, which made it come abundantly near a criminal offense. Like all men without much imagination, a faculty which helps the process of reflective thought, Lieutenant Hubert became frightfully harassed by the obvious aspects of his predicament. He was certainly glad that he had not killed Lieutenant Farrad, outside all rules and without the regular witnesses proper to such a transaction. Uncommonly glad. At the same time, he felt as though he would have liked to wring his neck for him without ceremony. He was still under the sway of these contradictory sentiments when the surgeon amateur of the flute came to see him. More than three days had elapsed. Lieutenant Hubert was no longer officer of ordnance to the general commanding the division. He had been sent back to his regiment, and he was resuming his connection with the soldier's military family by being shut up in close confinement. Not at his own quarters in town, but in a room in the barracks. Owing to the gravity of the incident, he was forbidden to see anyone. He did not know what had happened, what was being said, or what was being thought. The arrival of the surgeon was the most unexpected thing to the worried captive. The amateur of the flute began by explaining that he was there only by a special favor of the colonel. I represented to him that it would be only fair to let you have some authentic news of your adversary, he continued. You'll be glad to hear he's getting better fast. Lieutenant Hubert's face exhibited no conventional signs of gladness. He continued to walk the floor of the dusty, bare room. Take this chair, doctor, he mumbled. This affair is variously appreciated, in town and in the army. In fact, the diversity of opinions is amusing, as it mumbled Lieutenant Hubert, tramping steadily from wall to wall, but within himself he marveled that there could be two opinions on the matter, the surgeon continued. Of course, as the real facts are not known, I should have thought, interrupted Hubert, that the fellow would have put you in possession of facts. He said something, admitted the other, the first time I saw him, and by and by I did find him in the garden. The thump on the back of his head had made him a little incoherent then. Afterwards he was rather reticent than otherwise. Didn't think he would have the grace to be ashamed, mumbled Hubert, resuming his pacing while the doctor murmured, it's very amusing, ashamed. Shame was not exactly his frame of mind, however you may look at the matter otherwise. What are you talking about? What matter? asked Hubert, with a side-long look at the heavy-faced, gray-haired figure seated on a wooden chair. Whatever it is, said the surgeon, a little impatiently, I don't want to pronounce any opinion on your conduct. By heavens, you better not! burst out Hubert. There, there, don't be so quick in flourishing the sword. It doesn't pay in the long run. Understand once and for all, I would not carve any of you youngsters except with the tools of my trade. But my advice is good. If you go on like this, you'll make yourself an ugly reputation. Go on like what? demanded Lieutenant Hubert, stopping short. Quite startled. I, I make for myself a reputation. What do you imagine? I told you I don't wish to judge of the rights and wrongs of this incident. It's not my business. Nevertheless, what on earth has he been telling you, interrupted Lieutenant Hubert, in a sort of awed scare? I told you already that at first, when I picked him up in the garden, he was incoherent. Afterwards, he was naturally reticent. But I gather, at least, that he could not help himself. He couldn't, shouted Lieutenant Hubert in a great voice, then lowering his tone impressively. And what about me? Could I help myself? The surgeon stood up, his thoughts were running upon the flute, his constant companion with a consoling voice. In the vicinity of field ambulances, after twenty-four hours hard work, he had been known to trouble with its sweet sounds, the horrible stillness of battlefields, given over to silence and the dead. The solacing hour of his daily life was approaching, and in peacetime, he held on to the minutes as a miser to his horde. Of course, of course, he said, profoundly. You would think so. It's amusing, however, being perfectly neutral and friendly to you both. I have consented to deliver his message to you. Say that I am humoring an invalid, if you like. He wants you to know that this affair is by no means at an end. He intends to send you his seconds directly. He has regained his strength, providing, of course, the army is not in the field at the time. He intends, does he? Why certainly, spluttered Lieutenant Hubert in a passion. The secret of his exasperation was not apparent to the visitor, but this passion confirmed the surgeon in the belief which was gaining ground outside that some very serious difference had arisen between these two young men, something serious enough to wear an air of mystery, some fact of the utmost gravity. To settle their urgent difference about that fact, those two young men had risked being broken and disgraced at the outset almost of their career. The surgeon feared that the forthcoming inquiry would fail to satisfy the public curiosity. They would not take the public into the confidence as to that something which had passed between them of a nature so outrageous as to make them face a charge of murder, neither more nor less. But what could it be? The surgeon was not very curious by temperament. But that question, haunting his mind, caused him twice that evening to hold the instrument off his lips and sit silent for a whole minute, right in the middle of a tune, trying to form a plausible conjecture. He succeeded to this object no better than the rest of the garrison and the whole of society. The two young officers, of no special consequence till then, became distinguished by the universal curiosity as to the origin of their quarrel. Madame de Lyon's salon was the center of ingenious surmises. That lady herself was for a time assailed by inquiries as being the last person known to have spoken to these unhappy and reckless young men before they went out together from her house to a savage encounter with swords at dusk in a private garden. She protested she had not observed anything unusual in their demeanor. Lieutenant Farrad had been visibly annoyed at being called away. That was natural enough. No man likes to be disturbed in a conversation with a lady famed for her elegance and sensibility. But in truth the subject bored Madame de Lyon, since her personality could by no stretch of reckless gossip be connected with this affair, and it irritated her to hear, in advance, that there might have been some woman in the case. This irritation arose not from her elegance or sensibility, but from a more instinctive side of her nature. It became so great, at last, that she pre-emptorily forbade the subject to be mentioned under a roof. Near her couch the prohibition was obeyed, but farther off in the salon the appall of the imposed silence continued to be lifted more or less. A personage with a long pale face, resembling the countenance of a sheep, opined, shaking his head, that it was a quarrel of long-standing, envenomed by time. It was objected to him that the men themselves were too young for such a theory. They belonged also to different and distant parts of France. There were other physical impossibilities, too. A sub-commissary of intendance, an agreeable and cultivated bachelor, in chrysomere breeches, hessian boots, and a blue coat embroidered with silver lace, who effected to believe in the transmigration of souls, suggested that the two had met, perhaps, in some previous existence. The feud was in the forgotten past, and might have been something quite inconceivable in the present state of their being, but their souls remembered the animosity, and manifested an instinctive antagonism. He developed this theme jocularly. Yet the affair was so absurd, from the worldly, the military, the honorable, or the prudential point of view, that this weird explanation seemed rather more reasonable than any other. The two officers had confided nothing definite to anyone. Humiliation at having been worsted, arms in hand, and an uneasy feeling of having been involved in a scrape by the injustice of fate, kept Lieutenant Farad savagely dumb. He mistrusted the sympathy of mankind. That would, of course, go to that dandied staff officer. Lying in bed, he raved aloud to the pretty maid who administered to his needs with devotion, and listened to his horrible imprecations with alarm. That Lieutenant Hubert should be made to pay for it, seemed to her just and natural. Her principal care was that Lieutenant Farad should not excite himself. She appeared so wholly admirable and fascinating to the humility of her heart, that her only concern was to see him get well quickly, even if it were only to resume his visits to Madame de Lyon's salon. Lieutenant Hubert kept silent for the immediate reason that there was no one except for a stupid young soldier-servant to speak to. Furthermore, he was aware that the episode, so grave professionally, had its comic side. When reflecting upon it, he still felt that he would like to wring Lieutenant Farad's neck for him. But this formula was figurative rather than precise, and he expressed a more state of mind than an actual physical impulse. At the same time, there was in that young man a feeling of comradeship and kindness which made him unwilling to make the position of Lieutenant Farad worse than what it was. He did not want to talk at large about his wretched affair. At the inquiry, he would have, of course, to speak the truth in self-defense. This prospect vexed him. But no inquiry took place. The army took the field instead. Lieutenant Hubert, liberated without remark, took up his regimental duties. And Lieutenant Farad, his arm just out of the sling, rode unquestioned with his squadron to complete his convalescence in the smoke of battlefields and the fresh air of night bivouacs. This bracing treatment suited him so well that at the first rumor of an armistice being signed he could turn without misgivings to the thoughts of his private warfare. This time it was to be regular warfare. He sent two friends to Lieutenant Hubert, whose regiment was stationed only a few miles away, those friends who asked no questions of their principal. I owe him one, that pretty staff officer, he had said grimly, and then went away quite contentedly on their mission. Lieutenant Hubert had no difficulty in finding two friends equally discreet and devoted to their principal. There's a crazy fellow to whom I must give a lesson, he had declared curtly, and they asked for no better reasons. On these grounds, an encounter with dueling swords was arranged one early morning in a convenient field. At the third set, too, Lieutenant Hubert found himself lying on his back on the dewy grass with a hole in his side. A serene sun, rising over a landscape of meadows and woods, hung on his left. A surgeon, not the flute player, but another, was bending over him, feeling around the wound. Narrow squeak, but it will be nothing, he pronounced. Lieutenant Hubert heard these words with pleasure. One of his seconds, sitting on the wet grass and sustaining his head on his lap, said, The fortune of war! What will you have? You had better make it up, like two good fellows do. You don't know what you ask, murmured Lieutenant Hubert in a feeble voice. However, if he— In another part of the meadow, the seconds of Lieutenant Farrad were urging him to go over and shake hands with his adversary. You have paid him off now. It's the proper thing to do. This Hubert is a decent fellow. I know the decency of these generals' pets, muttered Lieutenant Farrad through his teeth, and the somber expression of his face discouraged further efforts at reconciliation. The seconds, bowing from a distance, took their men off the field. In the afternoon, Lieutenant Hubert, very popular as a good comrade, uniting great bravery with a frank and equitable temper, had many visitors. It was remarked that Lieutenant Farrad did not, as is customary, show himself much abroad to receive the felicitations of his friends. They would not have failed him, because he, too, was liked for the exuberance of his southern nature and the simplicity of his character. In all the places where officers were in the habit of assembling at the end of the day, the duel of the morning was talked over from every point of view. Though Lieutenant Hubert had got worsted this time, his swordplay was commended. No one could deny that it was very close, very scientific. It was even whispered that if he got touched, it was because he wished to spare his adversary. But by many, the vigor and dash of Lieutenant Farrad's attack were pronounced irresistibly. The merits of the two officers as combatants were frankly discussed, but their attitude to each other after the duel was criticized lightly and with caution. It was irreconcilable, and that was to be regretted. But after all, they knew best what the care of their honor dictated. It was not a matter for their comrades to pry into overmuch as to the origin of the quarrel. The general impression was that it dated from the time they were holding garrison in Strasburg. The musical surgeon shook his head at that. It went much farther back, he thought. Why, of course, you must know the whole story, cried several voices, eager with curiosity. What is it? He raised his eyes from his glass deliberately. Even if I knew ever so well, you can't expect me to tell you, since both the principals choose to say nothing. He got up and went out, leaving the sense of mystery behind him. He could not stay any longer, because the witching hour of flute-playing was drawing near. After he had gone, a very young officer observed solemnly, Obviously, his lips are sealed. Nobody questioned the high correctness of that remark. Somehow it added to the impressiveness of the affair. Several older officers of both regiments, prompted by nothing but sheer kindness and love of harmony, proposed to form a court of honor, to which the two young men would lead the task of their reconciliation. Unfortunately, they began by approaching Lieutenant Farrad on the assumption that, having just scored heavily, he would be found placable and disposed to moderation. The reasoning was sound enough. Nevertheless, the move turned out unfortunate. In that relaxation of moral fiber, which is brought about by the ease of soothed vanity, Lieutenant Farrad had condescended in the secret of his heart to review the case, and even had come to doubt not the justice of his cause, but the absolute sagacity of his conduct. This being so, he was disinclined to talk about it. The suggestion of the regimental wise men put him in a difficult position. He was disgusted at it, and this disgust, by paradoxical logic, reawakened his animosity against Lieutenant Eubert. Was he to be pestered with his fellow forever, the fellow who had an infernal knack of getting round people somehow? And yet it was difficult to refuse point-blank that mediation sanctioned by the code of honor. He met the difficulty by an attitude of a grim reserve. He twisted his mustache and used vague words. His case was perfectly clear. He was not ashamed to state it before a proper court of honor, neither was he afraid to defend it on the ground. He did not see any reason to jump at the suggestion before ascertaining how his adversary was likely to take it. Later in the day, his exasperation growing upon him, he was heard in a public place saying sardonically that it would be the very luckiest thing for Lieutenant Eubert, because the next time of meeting he need not hope to get off with a mere trifle of three weeks in bed. This boastful praise might have been prompted by the most profound Machiavellianism. Southern natures often hide, under the outward impulsiveness of action and speech, a certain amount of astuteness. But a fraud, mistrusting the justice of men, by no means desired a court of honor. And the above words, according so well with his temperament, had also the merit of serving his turn. Whether it meant so or not, they found in their way, in less than twenty-four hours into Lieutenant Eubert's bedroom. In consequence, Lieutenant Eubert, sitting propped up with his pillows, received the overtures made to him next day by the statement that the affair was of a nature which could not bear discussion. The pale face of the wounded officer, his weak voice, which he had yet to use cautiously, and the courteous dignity of his tone had a great effect on the hearers. Reported outside, all this did more for deepening the mystery than the vaporings of Lieutenant Farrad. This last was greatly relieved at the issue. He began to enjoy the state of general wonder, and was pleased to add to it by assuming an attitude of fierce discretion. The colonel of Lieutenant Eubert's regiment was a gray-haired, weather-beaten warrior who took a simple view of his responsibilities. I can't, he said to himself, let the best of my subalterns get damaged like this for nothing. I must get to the bottom of this affair privately. He must speak out if the devil were in it. The colonel should be more than a father to these youngsters. And indeed he loved all his men, with as much affection as a father of a large family can feel for every individual member of it. If human beings, by an oversight of providence, came into the world as mere civilians, they were born again into a regiment as infants are born into a family, and it was that military birth alone which counted.