The Duel by Joseph Conrad: Part 1 of 7

A Military Tale The Duel by Joseph Conrad Read by Donald Miller Napoleon I, whose career had the quality of a duel against the whole of Europe, disliked dueling between the officers of his army. The great military emperor was not a swashbuckler and had little respect for tradition. Nevertheless, a story of dueling, which became a legend in the army, runs through the epoch of imperial wars. To the surprise and admiration of their fellows, two officers, like insane artists trying to gild refined gold or paint the lily, pursued a private contest through the years of universal carnage. They were officers of cavalry, and their connection to the high-spirited but fanciful animal which carries men into battle seems particularly appropriate. It would be difficult to imagine for heroes of this legend two officers of infantry of the line, for instance, whose fantasy is tamed by much walking exercise, and whose valor necessarily must be of a more plodding kind. As to gunners or engineers whose heads are kept cool on a diet of mathematics, it is simply unthinkable. The names of the two officers were Farad and Hubert, and they were both lieutenants in a regiment of hussars, but not in the same regiment. Farad was doing regimental work, but Lieutenant Hubert had the good fortune to be attached to the person of the general commanding the division as officer d'ordinance. Hubert was in Strasbourg, and in this agreeable and important garrison they were enjoying greatly a short interval of peace. They were enjoying it, though both intensely warlike, because it was a sword-sharpening, firelock-cleaning peace, dear to a military heart and undamaging to military prestige, inasmuch that no one believed in its sincerity or its duration. In those historical circumstances, so favorable to the proper appreciation of military leisure, Lieutenant Hubert, one fine afternoon, made his way along a quiet street of a cheerful suburb towards Lieutenant Farad's quarters, which were in a private house with a garden at the back, belonging to an old maiden lady. His knock at the door was answered instantly by a young maid in costume, her fresh complexion and her long eyelashes lowered demurely at the sight of the tall officer, causing Lieutenant Hubert, who was accessible to aesthetic impressions, to relax the cold, severe gravity of his face. At the same time, he observed that the girl had over her arm a pair of hussars breeches, blue with a red stripe. Lieutenant Farad, in he inquired benevolently, Oh, no, sir. He went out at six this morning. The pretty maid tried to close the door. Lieutenant Hubert, opposing this move with general firmness, stepped into the ante-room, jingling his furs. Come, my dear. You don't mean to say he has not been home since six o'clock this morning? Saying these words, Lieutenant Hubert opened without ceremony the door of a room so comfortably and neatly ordered that only from internal evidence in the shape of boots, uniforms, and military accoutrements did he acquire the conviction that it was Lieutenant Farad's room. And he saw also that Lieutenant Farad was not at home. The truthful maid had followed him in and raised her candid eyes to his face. Hmm, said Lieutenant Hubert, greatly disappointed, for he had already visited all the haunts where a lieutenant of Hussars could be found in a fine afternoon. So he's out. And do you happen to know, my dear, why he went out at six this morning? No, she answered readily. He came home late last night and snored. I heard him when I got up at five. Then he dressed himself in his oldest uniform and went out. Service, I suppose. Service? Not a bit of it, Lieutenant Hubert learned, my angel, that he went out thus early to fight a duel with a citizen. She heard this news without a quiver of her dark eyelashes. It was very obvious that the actions of Lieutenant Farad were generally above criticism. She only looked up for a moment in mute surprise, and Lieutenant Hubert concluded from this absence of emotion that she must have seen Lieutenant Farad since the morning. He looked around the room. Come, he insisted, with confidential familiarity. He's probably somewhere in the house now. She shook her head. So much the worse for him, continued Lieutenant Hubert in a tone of anxious conviction. But he has been home this morning. This time the pretty maid nodded slightly. He has, cried Lieutenant Hubert, gone out again. What for? Couldn't he keep quietly indoors? What a lunatic! My dear girl! Lieutenant Hubert's natural kindness of disposition and strong sense of comradeship helped his powers of observation. He changed his tone to a most insinuating softness. And gazing at the hussar's breeches hanging over the arm of the girl, he appealed to the interest she took in Lieutenant Farad's comfort and happiness. He was pressing and persuasive. He used his eyes, which were kind and fine, with excellent effect. His anxiety to get hold at once of Lieutenant Farad for Lieutenant Farad's own good seemed so genuine that at last it overcame the girl's unwillingness to speak. Unluckily, she had not much to tell. Lieutenant Farad had returned home shortly before ten, had walked straight into his room, and had thrown himself on his bed to resume his slumbers. She had heard him snore rather louder than before, far into the afternoon. Then he got up, put on his best uniform, and went out. That was all she knew. She raised her eyes, and Lieutenant Hubert stared into them incredulously. It's incredible! Gone parading around the town in his best uniform? My child, don't you know you ran that civilian through this morning? Clean through, as you spit a hair. Pretty maid heard the gruesome intelligence without any signs of distress, but she pressed her lips together thoughtfully. He isn't parading the town, she remarked in a low tone. Far from it. The civilian's family is making an awful row, continued Lieutenant Hubert, pursuing his train of thought. And the general is very angry. It's one of the best families in the town. Fair-eyed Otto, if kept close at least. What will the general do to him? inquired the girl anxiously. He won't have his head cut off, to be sure, grumbled Lieutenant Hubert. His conduct is positively indecent. He's making no end of trouble for himself by this sort of bravado. But he isn't parading the town, the maid insisted in a shy murmur. Why, yes, now I think of it, I haven't seen him anywhere about. What on earth has he done with himself? He's gone to pay a call, suggested the maid, after a moment of silence. Lieutenant Hubert started. A call? Do you mean a call on a lady? The cheek of the man? How do you know this, my dear? Without concealing her woman's scorn for the denseness of the masculine mind, the pretty maid reminded him that Lieutenant Farrad had arrayed himself in his best uniform before going out. He had also put on his newest dolmen, she added in a tone as if this conversation were getting on her nerves, and turned away brusquely. Lieutenant Hubert, without questioning the accuracy of the deduction, did not see that it advanced him much on his official quest, for this quest after Lieutenant Farrad had an official character. He did not know any of the women this fellow, who had run a man through in the morning, was likely to visit in the afternoon. The two young men knew each other but slightly. He bit his gloved finger in perplexity. Collie exclaimed, Call on the devil! The girl with her back to him, and folding the hussar's breeches on a chair, protested with a vexed little laugh, Oh dear, no! On Madame de Lyon! Lieutenant Hubert whistled softly. Madame de Lyon was the wife of a high official who had a well-known salon and some pretensions to sensibility and elegance. The husband was a civilian, and old, but the society of the salon was young and military. Lieutenant Hubert had whistled, not because the idea of pursuing Lieutenant Farrad into that very salon was disagreeable to him, but because, having arrived in Strasbourg only lately, he had not had the time yet to get an introduction to Madame de Lyon. And what was the swashbuckler Farrad doing there? He did not seem the sort of man who Are you certain of what you say? asked Lieutenant Hubert. The girl was perfectly certain. Without turning round to look at him, she explained that the coachmen of their next-door neighbors knew the maitre d'hôtel of Madame de Lyon. In this way she had her information. And she was perfectly certain. In giving this assurance, she sighed. Lieutenant Farrad called there nearly every afternoon, she added. Ah, bah! exclaimed Hubert ironically. His opinion of Madame de Lyon went down several degrees. Lieutenant Farrad did not seem to him especially worthy of attention on the part of a woman with a reputation for sensibility and elegance. But there was no saying. At the bottom they were all alike. Very practical rather than idealistic. Lieutenant Hubert, however, did not allow his mind to dwell on these considerations. By thunder, he reflected aloud, the General goes there sometimes. If he happens to find the fellow making eyes at the lady, there will be the devil at pay. Our General is not a very accommodating person, I can tell you. Go quickly, then. Don't stand here. Now I've told you where he is, cried the girl, coloring to the eyes. Thanks, my dear. I don't know what I would have done without you. After manifesting his gratitude in an aggressive way, which at first was repulsed violently and then submitted to with a sudden and still more repellent indifference, Lieutenant Hubert took his departure. He clanked and jingled along the streets with a martial swagger. To run a comrade to earth in a drawing room where he was not known did not trouble him in the least. A uniform is a passport. His position as officer d'ordinance of the General added to his assurance. Moreover, now that he knew where to find Lieutenant Farrad, he had no option. It was a service matter. Madame de Lyon's house had an excellent appearance. A man in livery opening the door of a large drawing room with a waxed floor shouted his name and stood aside to let him pass. It was a reception day. The ladies wore big hats, surcharged with a profusion of feathers. Their bodies, sheathed in clinging white gowns from the armpits to the tips of the low satin shoes, looked sylph-like and cool in a great display of bare necks and arms. The men who talked with them, on the contrary, were arrayed heavily in multicolored garments, with collars up to their ears and thick sashes around their waists. Lieutenant Hubert made his unabashed way across the room and, bowing low before a sylph-like form reclining on a couch, offered his apologies for this intrusion, which nothing could excuse but the extreme urgency of the service order he had to communicate to his comrade Farad. He proposed to himself to return presently in a more regular manner and beg forgiveness for interrupting their interesting conversation. A bare arm was extended towards him with gracious nonchalance even before he had finished speaking. He pressed the hand respectfully to his lips and made the mental remark that it was bony. Madame de Lyon was a blonde, with too fine a skin and a long face. C'est ca, said she with an ethereal smile disclosing a set of large teeth, come this evening to plead for your forgiveness. I will not fail, Madame. Meantime Lieutenant Farad, splendid in his domain and the extremely polished boots of his calling, sat on a chair within a foot of the couch, one hand resting on his thigh, the other twirling his mustache to a point. At a significant glance from Hubert, he rose without alacrity and followed him into the recess of a window. What is it you want with me, he asked with astonishing indifference. Lieutenant Hubert could not imagine that in the innocence of his heart and simplicity of his conscience, Lieutenant Farad took a view of his duel in which neither remorse nor yet a rational apprehension of consequences had any place. Though he had no clear recollection how the quarrel had originated, it was begun in an establishment where beer and wine are drunk late at night. He had not the slightest doubt of being himself the outraged party. He had had two experienced friends for his seconds. Everything had been done according to the rules governing that sort of adventures. And a duel is obviously fought for the purpose of someone being at least hurt, if not killed outright. The civilian got hurt. That was also in order. Lieutenant Farad was perfectly tranquil. But Lieutenant Hubert took it for affectation and spoke with a certain vivacity. I am directed by the general to give you the order to go at once to your quarters and remain there under close arrest. It was now the turn of Lieutenant Farad to be astonished. What the devil are you telling me there? He murmured faintly and fell into such profound wonder that he could only follow mechanically the motions of Lieutenant Hubert. The two officers, one tall with an interesting face and a mustache the color of ripe corn, the other short, sturdy, with a hooked nose and a thick crop of black curly hair, approached the mistress of the house to take their leave. Madame de Lyon, a woman of eclectic taste, smiled upon these armed young men with impartial sensibility and an equal share of interest. Madame de Lyon took her delight in the infinite variety of the human species. All the other eyes in the drawing room followed the departing officers. And when they had gone out, one or two men who had already heard of the duel imparted the information to the sylph-like ladies who received it with faint shrieks of humane concern. Meantime, the two hussars walked side by side, Lieutenant Farad trying to master the hidden reason of things which in this instance eluded the grasp of his intellect, Lieutenant Hubert feeling annoyed at the part he had to play because the General's instructions were that he should see personally that Lieutenant Farad carried out his orders to the letter and at once. The Chief seems to know this animal, he thought, eyeing his companion, whose round face, round eyes, and even the twisted-up jet-black little mustache seemed animated by a mental exasperation against the incomprehensible. And aloud he observed rather reproachfully, the General is in a devilish fury with you. Lieutenant Farad stopped short on the edge of the pavement and cried in accents of unmistakable sincerity. What on earth for? The innocence of the fiery Gascon's soul was depicted in the manner in which he seized his head in both hands as if to prevent it bursting with perplexity. For the duel, said Lieutenant Hubert curtly, he was annoyed greatly by this sort of perverse fooling. The duel, the Lieutenant Farad passed from one paroxysm of astonishment into another. He dropped his hands and walked on slowly, trying to reconcile this information with the state of his own feelings. It was impossible. He burst out indignantly. Was I to let that sauerkraut-eating civilian wipe his boots on the uniform of the Seventh Hussars? Lieutenant Hubert could not remain altogether unmoved by that simple sentiment. This little fellow was a lunatic, he thought to himself, but there was something in what he said. Of course, I don't know how far you were justified, he began soothingly. And the General himself may not be exactly informed. Those people have been deafening him with their lamentations. Ah, the General is not exactly informed, mumbled Lieutenant Farad, walking faster and faster as his collar at the injustice of his fate began to rise. He is not exactly. And he orders me under close arrest, with God knows what afterwards. Don't excite yourself like this, remonstrated the other. Your adversary's people are very influential, you know, and it looks bad enough on the face of it. The General had to take notice of their complaint at once. I don't think he means to be over-severe with you. It's the best thing for you to be kept out of sight for a while. I am very much obliged to the General, muttered Lieutenant Farad through his teeth. And perhaps you would say I ought to be grateful to you too, for the trouble you have taken to hunt me up in the drawing room of a lady who, frankly, interrupted Lieutenant Hubert with an innocent laugh, I think you ought to be. I had no end of trouble to find out where you were. It wasn't exactly the place for you to disport yourself under the circumstances. If the General had caught you there making eyes at the goddess of the temple, oh my word, he hates to be bothered with complaints against his officers, you know, and it looked uncommonly like sheer bravado. The officers had arrived now at the street door of Lieutenant Farad's lodgings, but later turned toward his companion. Lieutenant Hubert, he said, I have something to say to you which can't be said very well in the street. You can't refuse to come up. The pretty maid had opened the door, Lieutenant Farad brushed past her brusquely, and she raised her scared and questioning eyes to Lieutenant Hubert, who could do nothing but shrug his shoulders slightly as he followed with marked reluctance. In his room, Lieutenant Farad unhooked the clasp, flung his new dolmen on the bed, and folding his arms across his chest turned to the other hussar. Do you imagine I am a man to submit tamely to injustice, he inquired in a boisterous voice. Oh, do be reasonable, remonstrated Lieutenant Hubert. I am reasonable, I am perfectly reasonable, retorted the other, with ominous restraint. I can't call the general to account for his behavior, but you are going to answer to me for yours. I can't listen to this nonsense, murmured Lieutenant Hubert, making a slightly contemptuous grimace. You call this nonsense? It seems to me a perfectly plain statement, unless you don't understand French. What on earth do you mean? I mean, screamed suddenly Lieutenant Farad, to cut off your ears to teach you to disturb me with the general's orders when I'm talking to a lady. A profound silence followed this mad declaration, and through the open window Lieutenant Hubert heard the little bird singing sanely in the garden. He said, preserving his calm, Why, if you take that tone, of course I shall hold myself at your disposition whenever you are at liberty to attend to this affair, but I don't think you will cut my ears off. I'm going to attend to it at once, declared Lieutenant Farad, with extreme truculence. If you are thinking of displaying your airs and graces tonight in Madame de Lyon's salon, you are very much mistaken. Really, Lieutenant Hubert, who was beginning to feel irritated, you are an impractical sort of fellow. The general's orders to me were to put you under arrest, not to carve you into small pieces. Good morning. And turning his back on the little Gascon, who always sober in his potations, was his, though born intoxicated with the sunshine of his vine-ripening country, the Northman, who could drink hard on occasion, but was born sober under the watery skies of Picardy, made for the door. Hearing, however, the unmistakable sound behind his back of a sword drawn from the scabbard, he had no option but to stop. Devil, take this mad southerner, he thought, spinning round and surveying with composure the warlike posture of Lieutenant Farad, with a bare sword in his hand. At once, at once, stuttered Farad beside himself. You had my answer, said the other, keeping his temper very well. At first he had been only vexed and somewhat amused, but now his face got clouded. He was asking himself seriously how he could manage to get away. It was impossible to run from a man with a sword, and as to fighting him, it seemed completely out of the question. He waited a while, then said exactly what was in his heart. Drop this, I won't fight you, I won't be made ridiculous. Ah, you won't, hissed the Gascon. I suppose you'd prefer to be made infamous. Do you hear what I say? Infamous, infamous, infamous, he shrieked, rising and falling on his toes and getting very red in the face. Lieutenant Hubert, on the contrary, became very pale at the sound of the unsavory word for a moment, then flushed pink to the roots of his fair hair. But you can't go out to fight. You're under arrest, you lunatic, he objected with angry scorn. There's the garden. It's big enough to lay out your long carcass in, spluttered the other with such ardor that somehow the anger of the cooler man subsided. This is perfectly absurd, he said, glad enough to think he had found a way out of it for the moment. We shall never get any of our comrades to serve us seconds. It's preposterous. Seconds? We don't need those stinking seconds. Damn the seconds. We don't want any seconds. Don't you worry about any seconds. I shall send word to your friends to come and bury you when I am done. And if you want any witnesses, I'll send word to the old girl to put her head out of a window at the back. Stay, there's the gardener. He'll do. He's as deaf as a post, but he has two eyes in his head. Come along. I will teach you, my staff officer. The carrying about of a general's order is not always child's play. While that's discoursing, he had unbuckled his empty scarpet. He sent it flying under the bed and lowering the point of the sword brush past the perplexed Lieutenant Hubert, exclaiming, Follow me! Directly he had flung open the door. A faint shriek was heard and the pretty maid, who had been listening at the keyhole, staggered away, putting the backs of her hands over her eyes. Farad did not seem to see her, but she ran after him and seized his left arm. He shook her off, and then she rushed towards Lieutenant Hubert and clawed at the sleeve of his uniform. Wretched man, she sobbed. Is this what you wanted to find him for? Let me go, entreated Lieutenant Hubert, trying to disengage himself gently. It's like being in a madhouse, he protested with exasperation. Do let me go. I won't do him any harm. A fiendish laugh from Lieutenant Farad commented with assurance, Come along, he shouted, with a stamp of his foot. And Lieutenant Hubert did follow. He could do nothing else. Yet in vindication of his sanity, it must be recorded that as he passed through the ante-room, the notion of opening the street door and bolting out presented itself to this brave youth, only of course to be instantly dismissed, for he felt sure that the other would pursue him without shame or compunction, and the prospect of an officer of Hussars being chased along the street by another officer of Hussars with a naked sword could not be for a moment entertained. Therefore, he followed into the garden. Behind them, the girl tottered out, too, with ashy lips and wild, scared eyes. She surrendered herself to a dreadful curiosity. She had also the notion of rushing if need be between Lieutenant Farad and death. The deaf gardener, utterly unconscious of approaching footsteps, went on watering his flowers till Lieutenant Farad thumped him on the back. Beholding suddenly an enraged man flourishing a big saber, the old chap, trembling in all his limbs, dropped the watering pot. At once, Lieutenant Farad kicked it away with great animosity, and seizing the gardener by the throat, backed him against a tree. He held him there, shouting in his ear, Stay here and look on. You understand? You got to look on. Don't dare budge from the spot. Lieutenant Humbert came slowly down the walk, unclasping his dolmen with unconcealed disgust. Even then, with his hand already on the hilt of his sword, he hesitated to draw till a roar, En garde, fichthree! What do you think you came here for? And the rush of his adversary forced him to put himself as quickly as possible in a posture of defense. The clash of arms filled that prim garden, which hitherto had known no more warlike sound than the click of clipping shears, and presently the upper part of an old lady's body was projected out of a window upstairs. She tossed her arms above her white cap, scolding in a cracked voice. The gardener remained glued to the tree, his toothless mouth open in idiotic astonishment, and a little farther up the path, the pretty girl, as if spellbound to a small grass plot, ran a few steps this way and that, wringing her hands and muttering crazily. She did not rush between the combatants. The onslaughts of Lieutenant Farad were so fierce that her heart failed her. Lieutenant Hubert, his faculties concentrated upon defense, needed all his skill and science of the sword to stop the rushes of his adversary. Twice already he had to break ground. It bothered him to feel his foothold made insecure by the round, dry gravel of the path rolling under the hard soles of his boots. This was most unsuitable ground, he thought, keeping a watchful narrowed gaze shaded by long eyelashes upon the fiery stare of his thick-set adversary. This absurd affair would ruin his reputation of a sensible, well-behaved, promising young officer. It would damage at any rate his immediate prospects and lose him the good will of his general. These worldly preoccupations were no doubt misplaced in view of the solemnity of the moment. A duel, whether regarded as a ceremony and the cult of honor, or even when reduced in its moral essence to a form of manly sport, demands a perfect singleness of intention, a homicidal austerity of mood. On the other hand, this vivid concern for his future had not a bad effect inasmuch as it began to rouse the anger of Lieutenant Hubert. Some seventy seconds had elapsed since they had crossed blades, and Lieutenant Hubert had to break ground again in order to avoid impaling his reckless adversary like a beetle for a cabinet of specimens. The result was that, misapprehending the motive, Lieutenant Farrad, with a triumphant sort of snarl, pressed his attack. This enraged animal will have me against the wall, directly thought Lieutenant Hubert. He imagined himself much closer to the house than he was, and he dared not turn his head. It seemed to him that he was keeping his adversary off with his eyes rather more than with his point. Lieutenant Farrad, crouched and bounded with a fierce, tigerish agility, fit to trouble the stoutest heart. But what was more appalling than the fury of a wild beast accomplishing in all innocence of heart a natural function, was the fixity of savage purpose man alone is capable of displaying. Lieutenant Hubert, in the midst of his worldly preoccupations, perceived it at last. It was an absurd and damaging affair to be drawn into. But whatever silly intention the fellow had started with, it was clear enough that by this time he meant to kill, nothing less. He meant it with an intensity of will utterly beyond the inferior faculties of a tiger.