A slight flush shot into Hugo's cheeks; he twisted his shoulder on his crutch as if he had a twinge of pain, but his face did not change its expression.
"No, sir. I did not say: 'Damn patriotism!' I'm afraid Captain Fracasse was out of temper when he reported that. I didn't say, 'Damn patriotism!' because I did not think that then and do not now. Would you care to have my recollection of what I said?"
"Yes!" breathed Marta with so intent an emphasis that Westerling turned sharply, only to find her smiling at him. Her smile said that she thought that Hugo's story would be interesting.
"Yes; go ahead!" said Westerling.
"I think that I can recall my words very accurately, sir," Hugo proceeded. "They were important to me. I was the individual most affected in the matter. I said: 'I am through. I will not murder my fellowmen who have done me no wrong. I cannot, I will not kill!'"
"That is all?" queried Westerling, again looking at Marta, this time covertly, while he played with a teaspoon.
Brooding uncertainty had flooded the sparkle out of her eyes. She was statue-like in her stillness, her breaths impalpable in their softness. But the points of her knuckles were ghostly, sharp spots on her tightly clenched hands. All that Westerling could tell was that she was thinking, and thinking hard. There was a space of silence broken only by the movement of the teaspoon. Hugo was the first to speak.
"I believe in patriotism, sir. That means love of country. I love my country," he said slowly.
A preachment of patriotism from this nonchalant private was a straw too much for Westerling's patience. He made a nervous gesture—a distinctly nervous one as he dropped the teaspoon. He would have an end of nonsense.
"You will answer questions!" he said. "First, you dropped your rifle?"