His leader, seated at the table in this his headquarters, looked up from his writing.
"I will see him at once," said he. "Be sure that the door is shut, Charles, and put a sentry outside."
And so Fortuné de la Vireville's one-time best friend, who had done him the worst injury, almost, that one man can do another, came in and saluted him, and they confronted one another as they had done ten years ago, when the scar on La Vireville's face was a bright wound. But if the thought of that meeting was in both their minds, La Vireville at least gave no sign of it. Standing by the table he punctiliously returned the newcomer's salute.
"I am glad to see you, M. de St. Four," he said, in level tones, "so that we can settle the little matter of our relations to each other at the outset, and have done with it. We shall almost certainly be attacking the Republican position in a day or two, therefore it is as well to have them defined, if only for that reason."
"You can disembarrass yourself of me then," said the other, in a scarcely audible voice.
La Vireville shook his head. "If you are going to have those ideas we shall never get on. As you may imagine, this situation is none of my seeking, as I am sure it is none of yours. But since we are now in an official relation to each other, I should wish, for the sake of our common aim, to behave to you exactly as I should to any other officer who had been assigned to me in this capacity. If I am always to feel that you are expecting to be treated as Uriah was treated by David, the state of affairs will become very difficult. Of course, I quite understand that you suspect me of such a design . . . though you must admit that I should not stand to gain, now, what David gained by it." A flash of bitter mockery passed over his face, and, brief as it was, seemed to sear the other's into agony.
"Yes!" he broke out passionately, "if you lost, I lost too! A year was all I had—and for that I threw away my honour—and your friendship. And then I in my turn was thrown away. God! God!" He turned away, shaking.
La Vireville stood like a statue, as he had stood all along, his finger-tips just resting on the table. His eyes indeed followed St. Four, who went at last to the little window, and stood by it with his back to him, pulling at a piece of loose planking. But the life in them was of an icy quality, and when he spoke it was as if the other man's outburst had never been.
"I am making for you, Monsieur," he said, "a memorandum of what the general tells me I may expect of you. I regret that it is not ready, but M. d'Hervilly somewhat sprang this upon me. My lieutenant, Le Goffic, will show you your quarters. That is all for the present." He sat down again at the table, and pulling his papers towards him bent over them.
St. Four stopped fidgetting with the woodwork and turned round. But he did not go. On the contrary, he came a little nearer, and spoke, not without dignity. "La Vireville, you were generous once. I acknowledge it. You gave me my life. . . . Is it any solace to you to know that I have often wished you had not made me that gift? I am not surprised that you would not take my hand. But is it possible that some day . . . for the sake of the cause, and because, as you know, I have suffered too . . . horribly . . . you might be able to forgive me, Fortuné?"