Raynal received this reply as a sentence of death, and without another word walked slowly into Dujardin’s tent.
Dujardin’s generosity was up in arms; he followed Raynal, and said eagerly, “Raynal, for Heaven’s sake resign this command!”
“Allow me to write to my wife, colonel,” was the cold reply.
Camille winced at this affront, and drew back a moment; but his nobler part prevailed. He seized Raynal by the wrist. “You shall not affront me, you cannot affront me. You go to certain death I tell you, if you attack that bastion.”
“Don’t be a fool, colonel,” said Raynal: “somebody must lead the men.”
“Yes; but not you. Who has so good a right to lead them as I, their colonel?”
“And be killed in my place, eh?”
“I know the ground better than you,” said Camille. “Besides, who cares for me? I have no friends, no family. But you are married—and so many will mourn if you”—
Raynal interrupted him sternly. “You forget, sir, that Rose de Beaurepaire is my sister, when you tell me you have no tie to life.” He added, with wonderful dignity and sobriety, “Allow me to write to my wife, sir; and, while I write, reflect that you can embitter an old comrade’s last moments by persisting in your refusal to restore his sister the honor you have robbed her of.”
And leaving the other staggered and confused by this sudden blow, he retired into Dujardin’s tent, and finding writing materials on a little table that was there, sat down to pen a line to Josephine.