The old Colonel, having courteously saluted him, took him to a short distance aside, and spoke eagerly for a few minutes; while Norwood, burning with anxiety and uneasiness, tried to smoke his cigar with every semblance of unconcern.
“I 'm sure, if you think so,” cried Scroope, aloud, “I'm not the m-man to gainsay the opinion. A miss is as g-g-good as a m-mile; and as he did n't strike him—”
“Tonnerre de Dieu! sir—strike him!” screamed the old soldier. “Did you say strike him?”
“No, I didn't—I couldn't have meant that,” broke in Purvis. “I meant to remark that, as there was no mischief done—”
“And who will venture to say that, sir?” interposed the other. “Is it nothing that a Frenchman should have been menaced?”
“That's a gr-great deal,——a tremendous deal. It's as much as beating another man; I know that,” muttered poor Purvis, deprecatingly.
“Is this a sneer, sir?” asked the Colonel, drawing himself up to his full height.
“No, no, it ain't; no, upon my soul, I 'm quite serious. I never was less disposed for a jest in my life.”
“You could never have selected a less opportune moment for one, sir,” rejoined the other, gravely. “Am I to conclude, sir,” resumed he, after a second's interval, “that we have no difference of opinion on this affair?”
“None whatever. I agree with you in everything you have s-said, and everything you in-intend to say.”