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Page 15
Our conversation often turned upon duels. Silvio--so I will call him--
never joined in it. When asked if he had ever fought, he dryly replied
that he had; but he entered into no particulars, and it was evident that
such questions were not to his liking. We came to the conclusion that he
had upon his conscience the memory of some unhappy victim of his
terrible skill. Moreover, it never entered into the head of any of us to
suspect him of anything like cowardice. There are persons whose mere
look is sufficient to repel such a suspicion. But an unexpected incident
occurred which astounded us all.
One day, about ten of our officers dined with Silvio. They drank as
usual, that is to say, a great deal. After dinner we asked our host to
hold the bank for a game at faro. For a long time he refused, for he
hardly ever played, but at last he ordered cards to be brought, placed
half a hundred ducats upon the table, and sat down to deal. We took our
places round him, and the play began. It was Silvio's custom to preserve
a complete silence when playing. He never disputed, and never entered
into explanations. If the punter made a mistake in calculating, he
immediately paid him the difference or noted down the surplus. We were
acquainted with this habit of his, and we always allowed him to have his
own way; but among us on this occasion was an officer who had only
recently been transferred to our regiment. During the course of the
game, this officer absently scored one point too many. Silvio took the
chalk and noted down the correct account according to his usual custom.
The officer, thinking that he had made a mistake, began to enter into
explanations. Silvio continued dealing in silence. The officer, losing
patience, took the brush and rubbed out what he considered was wrong.
Silvio took the chalk and corrected the score again. The officer, heated
with wine, play, and the laughter of his comrades, considered himself
grossly insulted, and in his rage he seized a brass candlestick from the
table, and hurled it at Silvio, who barely succeeded in avoiding the
missile. We were filled with consternation. Silvio rose, white with
rage, and with gleaming eyes, said:
"My dear sir, have the goodness to withdraw, and thank God that this has
happened in my house."
None of us entertained the slightest doubt as to what the result would
be, and we already looked upon our new comrade as a dead man. The
officer withdrew, saying that he was ready to answer for his offence in
whatever way the banker liked. The play went on for a few minutes
longer, but feeling that our host was no longer interested in the game,
we withdrew one after the other, and repaired to our respective
quarters, after having exchanged a few words upon the probability of
there soon being a vacancy in the regiment.
The next day, at the riding-school, we were already asking each other if
the poor lieutenant was still alive, when he himself appeared among us.
We put the same question to him, and he replied that he had not yet
heard from Silvio. This astonished us. We went to Silvio's house and
found him in the courtyard shooting bullet after bullet into an ace
pasted upon the gate. He received us as usual, but did not utter a word
about the event of the previous evening. Three days passed, and the
lieutenant was still alive. We asked each other in astonishment: "Can it
be possible that Silvio is not going to fight?"
Silvio did not fight. He was satisfied with a very lame explanation, and
became reconciled to his assailant.
This lowered him very much in the opinion of all our young fellows. Want
of courage is the last thing to be pardoned by young men, who usually
look upon bravery as the chief of all human virtues, and the excuse for
every possible fault. But, by degrees, everything became forgotten, and
Silvio regained his former influence.
I alone could not approach him on the old footing. Being endowed by
nature with a romantic imagination, I had become attached more than all
the others to the man whose life was an enigma, and who seemed to me the
hero of some mysterious drama. He was fond of me; at least, with me
alone did he drop his customary sarcastic tone, and converse on
different subjects in a simple and unusually agreeable manner. But after
this unlucky evening, the thought that his honor had been tarnished, and
that the stain had been allowed to remain upon it in accordance with his
own wish, was ever present in my mind, and prevented me treating him as
before. I was ashamed to look at him. Silvio was too intelligent and
experienced not to observe this and guess the cause of it. This seemed
to vex him; at least I observed once or twice a desire on his part to
enter into an explanation with me, but I avoided such opportunities, and
Silvio gave up the attempt. From that time forward I saw him only in the
presence of my comrades, and our confidential conversations came to an
end.
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