the public scandal of his wife's innocent bigamy, and her children's illegitimacy. As an officer he would meet foreign officers and visitors to Algeria. His portrait might get into the papers. He might have to go to Paris, or Marseilles, and run risks of being recognised. No—better to put away temptation and take no chance of the evil thing. Poor little Marguerite! Think of the cruel shattering blow to her. It would kill her to give up Huntingten in addition to knowing her children to be nameless, unable to inherit title or estates.… No—unthinkable! Do the thing properly or not at all.… But it was hell to be a second-class soldier all the time, and never be exempt from liability to sentry-duty, guards, fatigues, filthy corvées and punishment at the hands of Non-coms. seeking to acquire merit by discovering demerit…. And he could have had a commission straight away, when he got his bit of ferblanterie[1] in Tonkin and again in Dahomey. They knew he could speak German and had been an officer. … It had been a sore temptation—but, thank God, he had conquered it and not run the greatly enhanced risk of discovery. He ought really to have committed suicide directly he learned that she was married. No business to be alive—let alone grumbling about promotion. Moreover, if any living soul on this earth discovered that he was alive he must not only die, but let his wife have proof that he really was dead, this time. Then she and Huntingten could re-marry as the first ceremony was null and void, and the children be legitimatised. … Of course there would be more children—they loved each other so. …
- ↑ lit., tin-ware (medals and decorations).
