"So it appears. You are in an ill humour, my friend; I fear my news will not cheer you."
"Spit it out and have done with it, then."
"Well, this is it. A commission has been made out, I hear, appointing your young Englishman a cornet in the Anspach dragoons."
"What young Englishman?"
"The young man whom we met at Madame de Vaudrey's."
The captain swore a hearty British oath.
"Where learnt you that?"
"A la bonne heure! It is true. I have it on authority I cannot doubt. Van Santen pressed it; his influence prevailed. There were several vacancies in the regiment; it lost heavily in the action at Eckeren a few weeks ago. This boy gets the senior cornetcy. We owe it to ourselves, Monsieur le Capitaine, that the junior cornets get an early step."
"Peste! We do owe it to ourselves; or, I should rather say, we owe it to yourself. For me, I have knocked about the world too long to take umbrage easily; and look you, Monsieur, my family, although gentle, indeed I may say noble, cannot compare with yours in quartet-ings and such fal-lals. I understand your sentiments; as you say, something must be done."
"And at once, for which end I have come to see you. My position, as you perceive, is delicate; for myself, I would seek a quarrel with the bantling and spit him on my rapier without remorse. But affairs of state—you understand me; that alters the case. I must not appear. I propose to you this: to affront the boy, provoke him to a duel; you a veteran, he a tyro; it will be a matter of seconds. Voilà!"