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Reade, Charles, 1814-1884

"White Lies"


"Ah!" cried Raynal, triumphantly; "but no," said he, altering his tone,
"let us leave that sort of argument to lawyers. I have come a good many
miles to fight with you, general; and now you must decide to pay me this
little compliment on my arrival, or put a bitter affront on me--choose!"
While the old general hesitated, Camille replied, "Since you take that
tone there can be but one answer. You are too great a credit to the
French army for even an apparent slight to be put on you here. The
rule, I think, is, that one of the privates shall hold the hat.--Hallo!
Private Dard, come here--there--hold this hat."
"Yes, colonel.--Lord, here is my young mistress's husband!"
"Silence!"
And they began to draw, and, in the act of drawing, a change of manner
was first visible in these gay and ardent spirits.
"It is not I," said one, throwing away his lot.
"Nor I."
"It is I," said Raynal; then with sudden gravity, "I am the lucky one."
And now that the honor and the danger no longer floated vaguely over
four heads, but had fixed on one, a sudden silence and solemnity took
the place of eager voices.


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