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.
The inhabitants of the capital, with minds occupied by so many matters of business and pleasure, have no idea of the many sensations so familiar to the inhabitants of villages and small towns, as, for instance, the awaiting the arrival of the post. On Tuesdays and Fridays our regimental bureau used to be filled with officers: some expecting money, some letters, and others newspapers.
The packets were usually opened on the spot, items of news were communicated from one to another, and the bureau used to present a very animated picture.
Silvio used to have his letters addressed to our regiment, and he was generally there to receive them.
One day he received a letter, the seal of which he broke with a look of great impatience.
As he read the contents, his eyes sparkled.
The officers, each occupied with his own letters, did not observe anything.
"Gentlemen," said Silvio, "circumstances demand my immediate departure; I leave to-night. I hope that you will not refuse to dine with me for the last time.
I shall expect you, too," he added, turning towards me. "I shall expect you without fail."
With these words he hastily departed, and we, after agreeing to meet at Silvio's, dispersed to our various quarters.
I arrived at Silvio's house at the appointed time, and found nearly the whole regiment there.
All his things were already packed; nothing remained but the bare, bullet-riddled walls.
We sat down to table. Our host was in an excellent humor, and his gayety was quickly communicated to the rest. Corks popped every moment, glasses foamed incessantly, and, with the utmost warmth, we wished our departing friend a pleasant journey and every happiness.
When we rose from the table it was already late in the evening.
After having wished everybody good-bye, Silvio took me by the hand and detained me just at the moment when I was preparing to depart.
"I want to speak to you," he said in a low voice.
I stopped behind.
The guests had departed, and we two were left alone. Sitting down opposite each other, we silently lit our pipes.
Silvio seemed greatly troubled; not a trace remained of his former convulsive gayety.
The intense pallor of his face, his sparkling eyes, and the thick smoke issuing from his mouth, gave him a truly diabolical appearance.
Several minutes elapsed, and then Silvio broke the silence.
"Perhaps we shall never see each other again," said he; "before we part, I should like to have an explanation with you.
You may have observed that I care very little for the opinion of other people, but I like you, and I feel that it would be painful to me to leave you with a wrong impression upon your mind."
He paused, and began to knock the ashes out of his pipe. I sat gazing silently at the ground.
"You thought it strange," he continued, "that I did not demand satisfaction from that drunken idiot R---.
You will admit, however, that having the choice of weapons, his life was in my hands, while my own was in no great danger. I could ascribe my forbearance to generosity alone, but I will not tell a lie.
If I could have chastised R---without the least risk to my own life, I should never have pardoned him."
I looked at Silvio with astonishment.
Such a confession completely astounded me.
Silvio continued:
"Exactly so: I have no right to expose myself to death.
Six years ago I received a slap in the face, and my enemy still lives."
My curiosity was greatly excited.
"Did you not fight with him?" I asked.
"Circumstances probably separated you."
"I did fight with him," replied Silvio; "and here is a souvenir of our duel."
Silvio rose and took from a cardboard box a red cap with a gold tassel and embroidery (what the French call a bonnet de police); he put it on-- a bullet had passed through it about an inch above the forehead.
"You know," continued Silvio, "that I served in one of the Hussar regiments.
My character is well known to you: I am accustomed to taking the lead. From my youth this has been my passion.