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"It isn't quite fair for you to say I fell out on account of the donkey's braying. It was emotion, just ordinary emotion."
"Very well, if you want to call it that, I am not objecting. What would you call it, Sir Bertrand?"
"Well, it—well, whatever it was, it was excusable, I think. All of you have learned how to behave in hot hand-to-hand engagements, and you don't need to be ashamed of your record in that matter; but to walk along in front of death, with one's hands idle, and no noise, no music, and nothing going on, is a very trying situation. If I were you, De Conte, I would name the emotion; it's nothing to be ashamed of."
It was as straight and sensible a speech as ever I heard, and I was grateful for the opening it gave me; so I came out and said:
"It was fear—and thank you for the honest idea, too."
"It was the cleanest and best way out," said the old treasurer; "you've done well, my lad."
That made me comfortable, and when Miss Catherine said, "It's what I think, too," I was grateful to myself for getting into that scrape.
Sir Jean de Metz said—
"We were all in a body together when the donkey brayed, and it was dismally still at the time. I don't see how any young campaigner could escape some little touch of that emotion."
He looked about him with a pleasant expression of inquiry on his good face, and as each pair of eyes in turn met his head they were in nodded a confession. Even the Paladin delivered his nod. That surprised everybody, and saved the Standard-Bearer's credit. It was clever of him; nobody believed he could tell the truth that way without practice, or would tell that particular sort of a truth either with or without practice. I suppose he judged it would favorably impress the family. Then the old treasurer said—
"Passing the forts in that trying way required the same sort of nerve that a person must have when ghosts are about
