Pride: One of the Seven Cardinal Sins. Эжен Сю
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poor devil to leave his farm or work-bench and go and run the risk of being killed in your stead. To do this is to confess oneself a coward, and, as I am not desirous of such a reputation, I shall serve, if my name is drawn.'"
"Zounds! I'm in love with your young duke, already!" exclaimed the veteran.
"He stated the case pretty correctly, didn't he?" replied Olivier, with friendly complacency. "Though this resolution seemed very strange to his father, that gentleman had too keen a sense of honour to oppose it. Gerald's name was drawn, and that is the way he happened to be a private in the African Chasseurs, currying his horse, doing his share of the stable and kitchen work like the rest of us, and even going to the guard-house without a word of complaint if he absented himself without permission. In short, there wasn't a better soldier in the regiment."
"Nor a braver, too, I'll be bound," said the veteran, more and more interested.
"Brave as a lion, and so gay and enthusiastic when he charged upon the enemy that he would have fired the hearts of a whole battalion!"
"But with his name and connections, I should think he would soon have been made an officer."
"And so he would, doubtless, though he cared nothing about it, for when his term of service expired, and he had paid his debt to his country, as he expressed it, he said he wanted to return and again enjoy the pleasures of Paris life of which he was passionately fond. After three years of service Gerald had become a quartermaster like myself. About this time he was severely wounded in the shoulder during a bold charge upon quite a large body of Arabs. Fortunately, I was able to extricate him and carry him off the field—lifeless to all appearance—on my horse. The result was he was furloughed, and on leaving the service he went back to Paris. We had become quite intimate, and after his return to France we kept up quite a brisk correspondence. I hoped to meet him again upon my arrival here, but I learned that he was travelling in England. This morning, as I was walking along the boulevard, I heard some one call me at the top of his voice, and, turning, I saw Gerald jump out of a handsome cabriolet, and a second later we were embracing each other as two friends embrace each other on the battlefield after a warm engagement."
"'We must dine and spend the evening together,' he said.' Where are you staying?'
"'With my uncle,' I replied.' I have told him about you a hundred times, and he loves you almost as much as I do.'
"'Very well, then I will come and take dinner with you,' said Gerald. 'I want to see your uncle. I have a thousand things to say to him.'
"And knowing what a kind-hearted, unassuming fellow Gerald is, I assented to his proposal, warning him, however, that I should be obliged to leave him at seven o'clock, exactly as if I were clerk of the court, or was obliged to return to quarters," concluded Olivier, gaily.
"Good lad that you are!" said the commander, affectionately.
"It will give me great pleasure to introduce Gerald to you, uncle, for I know that you will feel at ease with him at once; besides," continued the young soldier, colouring a little, "Gerald is rich, I am poor. He knows my scruples, and as he is aware that I could not afford to pay my share of the bill at any fashionable restaurant, he preferred to invite himself here."
"I understand," said the veteran, "and your young duke shows both delicacy of feeling and kindness of heart in acting thus. Let us at least hope that Madame Barbançon's vinaigrette won't disagree with him," added the commander, laughing.
He had scarcely given utterance to this philanthropical wish when the door-bell gave another loud peal, and a moment afterwards the uncle and nephew saw the young Duc de Senneterre coming down the garden walk preceded by Madame Barbançon, who was in such a state of mental perturbation that she had entirely forgotten to remove her big kitchen apron.
CHAPTER III.
THE DINNER IN THE ARBOUR.
The Duc de Senneterre, who was about Olivier Raymond's age, had a distinguished bearing, and an exceedingly handsome and attractive face, with black hair and moustache, and eyes of a deep rich blue. His attire was marked with an elegant simplicity.
"Uncle, this is Gerald, my best friend, of whom I have so often spoken," said Olivier.
"I am delighted to see you, monsieur," said the veteran, cordially offering his hand to his nephew's friend.
"And I, commander," rejoined Gerald, with that deference to age which is imbibed from prolonged military service, "am sincerely glad to have the honour of pressing your hand. I know all your goodness to Olivier, and as I regard him almost as a brother, you must understand how thoroughly I have always appreciated your devotion to him."
"Gentlemen, will you have your soup in the house or under the arbour, as you usually do when the weather is fine?" inquired Madame Barbançon.
"We will dine in the arbour—if the commander approves, my dear Madame Barbançon," responded Gerald; "it will be charming; the afternoon is perfect."
"Monsieur knows me?" exclaimed the housekeeper, looking first at Olivier, and then at the duke, in great astonishment.
"Know you, Madame Barbançon?" exclaimed Gerald, gaily. "Why, hasn't Olivier spoken of you a hundred times while we were in camp, and haven't we had more than one quarrel all on your account?"
"On my account?"
"Most assuredly. That rascal of an Olivier is a great Bonapartist, you know. He cannot forgive any one for detesting that odious tyrant, and I took your part, for I, too, abhor the tyrant—that vile Corsican ogre!"
"Corsican ogre! You are a man after my own heart, monsieur. Let us shake hands—we understand each other," cried the housekeeper, triumphantly.
And she extended her bony hand to Gerald, who shook it heartily, at the same time remarking to the commander:
"Upon my word, sir, you had better take care, and you, too, Olivier, will have to look out now. Madame Barbançon had no one to help her before, now she will have a sturdy auxiliary in me."
"Look here, Madame Barbançon," exclaimed Olivier, coming to the rescue of his friend whom the housekeeper seemed inclined to monopolise, "Gerald must be nearly famished, you forget that. Come, I'll help you bring the table out here."
"True, I had forgotten all about dinner," cried the housekeeper, hastening towards the house.
Seeing Olivier start after her, as if to aid her, Gerald said:
"Wait a moment, my dear fellow, do you suppose I'm going to leave all the work to you?"
Then turning to the commander:
"You don't object, I trust, commander. I am making very free, I know, but when we were in the army together Olivier and I set the mess-table more than once, so you will find that I'm not as awkward as you might suppose."
It was a pleasure to see how cleverly and adroitly and gaily Gerald assisted his former comrade in setting the table under the arbour. The task was accomplished so quickly and neatly that one would have supposed that the young duke, like his friend, must have been used to poverty all his life.
To please his friend, Gerald, in half an hour, made a complete conquest of the veteran and his housekeeper, who was delighted beyond expression to see her anti-Bonapartist ally partake with great apparent enjoyment of her onion soup, salad, and vinaigrette, to which Gerald even asked to be helped twice.
It is needless to say that, during this cheerful repast, the veteran, delicately led on by Gerald, was induced to talk of his campaigns; then, this tribute of respect paid to their companion's superior years, the two young men related all sorts of episodes of their college and army life.
The veteran had lighted his pipe, and Gerald and Olivier their cigars, when the latter happened to inquire of his friend:
"By