"And what does the officer want?"
"Pardon for the deserter. He admits that he was in the wrong. He insulted a woman—I speak with absolute certainty, for I am that woman's relation—and he would now make good his fault by imploring pardon for the man who stood forth to wipe out that insult."
"To implore pardon is not enough. What can he say in the man's defence?"
"He certifies that the youth was a pattern of soldierly honour, valour, and discipline, that his comrades idolized him, his superiors liked him, and they now unanimously unite in this petition for his pardon. I have brought letters with me to prove all that I say; be so good as to peruse them!"
The General took the letters and read them through. He discovered more than one old comrade, more than one dear friend among the names written there. The young man had spoken the truth. But what was the use of it all. The claims of duty only became the more urgent.
"Sir," said the General coldly, folding up the letters again and placing them on the table, "I gather from your manner and bearing that you were brought up as a soldier."
"You are right, General. I passed the years of my childhood at a military institution, and a little time ago I was a soldier myself."
"In that case you must have some notion of the absolute necessity of the strictest discipline so long as the soldier is under arms."
"I am well aware of it, and it was not that which made me abandon a military career. If he whom I am now addressing were to say to me, 'I stand here as a judge,' I should simply withdraw, knowing that my cause was lost. But, sir, I am now addressing the man that is in you, a man with a heart, a being blessed with human feeling, 'tis to him that I would speak."
And the large black eyes of the stranger had such a heart-searching expression in them that the General turned away from him.