“If you are sure you can follow me. That was a very sudden and sharp seizure,” he said doubtfully. “But if you are sure, all right, and here goes. An affair of honour among you fellows would, naturally, be a little difficult to carry out; perhaps it would be impossible to have it wholly regular. And yet a duel might be very irregular in form, and, under the peculiar circumstances of the case, loyal enough in effect. Do you take me? Now, as a gentleman and a soldier.”
His hand rose again at the words and hovered over me. I could bear no more, and winced away from him. “No,” I cried, “not that. Do not put your hand upon my shoulder. I cannot bear it. It is rheumatism,” I made haste to add. “My shoulder is inflamed and very painful.”
He returned to his chair and deliberately lighted a cigar.
“I am sorry about your shoulder,” he said at last. “Let me send for the doctor.”
“Not in the least,” said I. “It is a trifle. I am quite used to it. It does not trouble me in the smallest. At any rate, I don’t believe in doctors.”
“All right,” said he, and sat and smoked a good while in a silence which I would have given anything to break. “Well,” he began presently, “I believe there is nothing left for me to learn. I presume I may say that I know all.”
“About what?” said I boldly.
“About Goguelat,” said he.
“I beg your pardon. I cannot conceive,” said I.
“O,” says the major, “the man fell in a duel, and by your hand! I am not an infant.”