“Let us waste no more then. WHEN and WHERE?”
“At the rear of the commander-in-chief’s tent; when you like.”
“This afternoon, then—at five.”
“At five.”
“Seconds?”
“What for?”
“You are right. They are only in the way of men who carry sabres; and besides the less gossip the better. Good-by, till five,” and the two saluted one another with grim ceremony; and Raynal turned on his heel.
Camille stood transfixed; a fierce, guilty joy throbbed in his heart. His rival had quarrelled with him, had insulted him, had challenged him. It was not his fault. The sun shone bright now upon his cold despair. An hour ago life offered nothing. A few hours more, and then joy beyond expression, or an end of all. Death or Josephine! Then he remembered that this very Josephine wished to marry him to Rose. Then he remembered Raynal had saved his life. Cold chills crossed his breaking heart. Of all that could happen to him death alone seemed a blessing without alloy.
He stood there so torn with conflicting passions, that he noted neither the passing hours nor the flying bullets.
He was only awakened from his miserable trance by the even tread of soldiers marching towards him; he looked up and there were several officers coming along the edge of the trench, escorted by a corporal’s guard.