the Plaza I thought I had never seen a finer soldier. Lowell said he
looked like a field marshal of the Second Empire. I was glad Lowell
had come to the door with me, as he could now see for himself that my
general was one for whom a man might be proud to fight a dozen duels.

The president gave his reins to an orderly and mounted the steps,
touching his chapeau to the salute of guard and the shouting citizens,
but his eyes were fixed sternly on me. I saw that he was deeply moved,
and I wished fervently, now that it was too late, that I had told him
of the street fight at the time, and not allowed him to hear of it
from others. I feared the worst. I was prepared for any reproof, any
punishment, even the loss of my commission, and I braced myself for
his condemnation.

But when he reached the top step where I stood at salute, although I
was inwardly quaking, he halted and his lips suddenly twisted, and the
tears rushed to his eyes.

He tried to speak, but made only a choking, inarticulate sound, and
then, with a quick gesture, before all the soldiers and all the
people, he caught me in his arms.

"My boy," he whispered, "my boy! For you were lost," he murmured, "and
have returned to me."

I heard Lowell running away, and the door of the guard-room banging
behind him, I heard the cheers of the people who, it seems, already
knew of the duel and understood the tableau on the barrack steps, but
the thought that Laguerre cared for me even as a son made me deaf to
everything, and my heart choked with happiness.