A Point Of Honor… to read french

Posté par admin
jeudi 23 février 2006 [n° 1085]

“I want you to know, Lieutenant D’Hubert, that I could stand aside and see you all riding to Hades, if need be. I am a man to do even that, if the good of the service and my duty to my country required it from me. But that’s unthinkable, so don’t you even hint at such a thing.”

He glared awfully, but his voice became gentle. “There’s some milk yet about that moustache of yours, my boy. You don’t know what a man like me is capable of. I would hide behind a haystack if… Don’t grin at me, sir. How dare you? If this were not a private conversation, I would… Look here. I am responsible for the proper expenditure of lives under my command for the glory of our country and the honour of the regiment. Do you understand that? Well, then, what the devil do you mean by letting yourself be spitted like this by that fellow of the Seventh Hussars? It’s simply disgraceful!”

Lieutenant D’Hubert, who expected another sort of conclusion, felt vexed beyond measure. His shoulders moved slightly. He made no other answer. He could not ignore his responsibility. The colonel softened his glance and lowered his voice.

“It’s deplorable,” he murmured. And again he changed his tone. “Come,” he went on persuasively, but with that note of authority which dwells in the throat of a good leader of men, “this affair must be settled. I desire to be told plainly what it is all about. I demand, as your best friend, to know.”

The compelling power of authority, the softening influence of the kindness affected deeply a man just risen from a bed of sickness. Lieutenant D’Hubert’s hand, which grasped the knob of a stick, trembled slightly. But his northern temperament, sentimental but cautious and clear-sighted, too, in its idealistic way, predominated over his impulse to make a clean breast of the whole deadly absurdity. According to the precept of transcendental wisdom, he turned his tongue seven times in his mouth before he spoke. He made then only a speech of thanks, nothing more. The colonel listened interested at first, then looked mystified. At last he frowned.

“You hesitate—mille tonerres! Haven’t I told you that I will condescend to argue with you—as a friend?”

“Yes, colonel,” answered Lieutenant D’Hubert softly, “but I am afraid that after you have heard me out as a friend, you will take action as my superior officer.”

The attentive colonel snapped his jaws.

“Well, what of that?” he said frankly. “Is it so damnably disgraceful?”

“It is not,” negatived Lieutenant D’Hubert in a faint but resolute voice.

“Of course I shall act for the good of the service—nothing can prevent me doing that. What do you think I want to be told for?”

“I know it is not from idle curiosity,” tested Lieutenant D’Hubert. “I know you will act wisely. But what about the good fame of the regiment?”

“It cannot be affected by any youthful folly of a lieutenant,” the colonel said severely.

“No, it cannot be; but it can be by evil tongues. It will be said that a lieutenant of the Fourth Hussars, afraid of meeting his adversary, is hiding behind his colonel. And that would be worse than hiding behind a haystack—for the good of the service. I cannot afford to do that, colonel.”

“Nobody would dare to say anything of the kind,” the colonel, beginning very fiercely, ended on an uncertain note. The bravery of Lieutenant D’Hubert was well known; but the colonel was well aware that the duelling courage, the single combat courage, is, rightly or wrongly, supposed to be courage of a special sort; and it was eminently necessary that an officer of his regiment should possess every kind of courage—and prove it, too. The colonel stuck out his lower lip and looked far away with a peculiar glazed stare. This was the expression of his perplexity, an expression practically unknown to his regiment, for perplexity is a sentiment which is incompatible with the rank of colonel of cavalry. The colonel himself was overcome by the unpleasant novelty of the sensation. As he was not accustomed to think except on professional matters connected with the welfare of men and horses and the proper use thereof on the field of glory, his intellectual efforts degenerated into mere mental repetitions of profane language. “Mille tonerres!… Sacré nom de nom...” he thought.


The Point Of Honor A Military Tale Joseph Conrad – The Project Gutenberg EBook

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