"Mr. Commissioner, Ladies, and Gentlemen! I thought a minute ago that I was the last person to return thanks for our host's regrets and good wishes. I know now that I am really the only person in the regiment who could do it honestly; because I am the only person who can sympathise with him thoroughly--who can, like he does, regret the regiment's departure, and--and at the same time give it God-speed, while I--I----"
He paused, and suddenly the strenuous effort after conventional banalities left his young face free to show its grief--almost its anger.
"It's no use my trying to talk bosh," he broke out, and swept away by realities: "As you know, I'd give everything not to say God-speed, but I suppose I must."
And then a sudden remembrance seemed to come to him, he turned in swift impulse, his face alight, leapt to the pedestal behind him, and there he was again with that blessed battered old ball in his raised right hand.
"And I don't think I can do it better than this does it. This----" his voice had the notes of life's divine tragedy of hope in it--"fits us all--fits everything!--And so," his eyes sought mine, "we thank you, sir, for all and everything, and wish that the God of the Battle may have mercy all round."
For a second he stood there, almost triumphant, beautiful as a god, below him the guttering candles and disorder of the supper table, above him the stars of heaven: then, with a light laugh, he was calling for the band to begin and heading the hurried return to the dancing floor.
As he passed me, gallant and gay, I heard the Paris frock quote in a consoling whisper, "They also serve who only stand and wait."
The grateful admiration of his eyes told the delicacy of her art. I realised this again when shortly after I had an opportunity for one word of consolation also.
"She said that, too," he replied, his voice trembling a little. "She's been awfully good to me, you know--but so you all are--and I daresay it is all right."
I knew that to be impossible, but I resolved to do my level best to protect him.