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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Barlasch of the Guard, by H. S. Merriman
+
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+Title: Barlasch of the Guard
+
+Author: H. S. Merriman
+
+Release Date: May, 2005  [EBook #8158]
+[This file was first posted on June 22, 2003]
+
+Edition: 10
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: US-ASCII
+
+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, BARLASCH OF THE GUARD ***
+
+
+
+
+This etext was produced by Les Bowler, St. Ives, Dorset.
+
+
+
+
+BARLASCH OF THE GUARD BY HENRY SETON MERRIMAN
+
+
+
+
+     "And they that have not heard shall understand"
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+CHAPTER
+
+I.       ALL ON A SUMMER'S DAY
+II.      A CAMPAIGNER
+III.     FATE
+IV.      THE CLOUDED MOON
+V.       THE WEISSEN ROSS'L
+VI.      THE SHOEMAKER OF KONIGSBERG
+VII.     THE WAY OF LOVE
+VIII.    A VISITATION
+IX.      THE GOLDEN GUESS
+X.       IN DEEP WATER
+XI.      THE WAVE MOVES ON
+XII.     FROM BORODINO
+XIII.    IN THE DAY OF REJOICING
+XIV.     MOSCOW
+XV.      THE GOAL
+XVI.     THE FIRST OF THE EBB
+XVII.    A FORLORN HOPE
+XVIII.   MISSING
+XIX.     KOWNO
+XX.      DESIREE'S CHOICE
+XXI.     ON THE WARSAW ROAD
+XXII.    THROUGH THE SHOALS
+XXIII.   AGAINST THE STREAM
+XXIV.    MATHILDE CHOOSES
+XXV.     A DESPATCH
+XXVI.    ON THE BRIDGE
+XXVII.   A FLASH OF MEMORY
+XXVIII.  VILNA
+XXIX.    THE BARGAIN
+XXX.     THE FULFILMENT
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.  ALL ON A SUMMER'S DAY.
+
+
+
+     Il faut devoir lever les yeux pour regarder ce qu'on aime.
+
+A few children had congregated on the steps of the Marienkirche at
+Dantzig, because the door stood open.  The verger, old Peter Koch--
+on week days a locksmith--had told them that nothing was going to
+happen; had been indiscreet enough to bid them go away.  So they
+stayed, for they were little girls.
+
+A wedding was in point of fact in progress within the towering walls
+of the Marienkirche--a cathedral built of red brick in the great
+days of the Hanseatic League.
+
+"Who is it?" asked a stout fishwife, stepping over the threshold to
+whisper to Peter Koch.
+
+"It is the younger daughter of Antoine Sebastian," replied the
+verger, indicating with a nod of his head the house on the left-hand
+side of the Frauengasse where Sebastian lived.  There was a wealth
+of meaning in the nod.  For Peter Koch lived round the corner in the
+Kleine Schmiedegasse, and of course--well, it is only neighbourly to
+take an interest in those who drink milk from the same cow and buy
+wood from the same Jew.
+
+The fishwife looked thoughtfully down the Frauengasse where every
+house has a different gable, and none of less than three floors
+within the pitch of the roof.  She singled out No. 36, which has a
+carved stone balustrade to its broad verandah and a railing of
+wrought-iron on either side of the steps descending from the
+verandah to the street.
+
+"They teach dancing?" she inquired.
+
+And Koch nodded again, taking snuff.
+
+"And he--the father?"
+
+"He scrapes a fiddle," replied the verger, examining the lady's
+basket of fish in a non-committing and final way.  For a locksmith
+is almost as confidential an adviser as a notary.  The Dantzigers,
+moreover, are a thrifty race and keep their money in a safe place; a
+habit which was to cost many of them their lives before the coming
+of another June.
+
+The marriage service was a long one and not exhilarating.  Through
+the open door came no sound of organ or choir, but the deep and
+monotonous drawl of one voice.  There had been no ringing of bells.
+The north countries, with the exception of Russia, require more than
+the ringing of bells or the waving of flags to warm their hearts.
+They celebrate their festivities with good meat and wine consumed
+decently behind closed doors.
+
+Dantzig was in fact under a cloud.  No larger than a man's hand,
+this cloud had risen in Corsica forty-three years earlier.  It had
+overshadowed France.  Its gloom had spread to Italy, Austria, Spain;
+had penetrated so far north as Sweden; was now hanging sullen over
+Dantzig, the greatest of the Hanseatic towns, the Free City.  For a
+Dantziger had never needed to say that he was a Pole or a Prussian,
+a Swede or a subject of the Czar.  He was a Dantziger.  Which is
+tantamount to having for a postal address a single name that is
+marked on the map.
+
+Napoleon had garrisoned the Free City with French troops some years
+earlier, to the sullen astonishment of the citizens.  And Prussia
+had not objected for a very obvious reason.  Within the last
+fourteen months the garrison had been greatly augmented.  The clouds
+seemed to be gathering over this prosperous city of the north,
+where, however, men continued to eat and drink, to marry and to be
+given in marriage as in another city of the plain.
+
+Peter Koch replaced his snuff-stained handkerchief in the pocket of
+his rusty cassock and stood aside.  He murmured a few conventional
+words of blessing, hard on the heels of stronger exhortations to the
+waiting children.  And Desiree Sebastian came out into the sunlight-
+-Desiree Sebastian no more.
+
+That she was destined for the sunlight was clearly written on her
+face and in her gay, kind blue eyes.  She was tall and straight and
+slim, as are English and Polish and Danish girls, and none other in
+all the world.  But the colouring of her face and hair was more
+pronounced than in the fairness of Anglo-Saxon youth.  For her hair
+had a golden tinge in it, and her skin was of that startlingly milky
+whiteness which is only found in those who live round the frozen
+waters.  Her eyes, too, were of a clearer blue--like the blue of a
+summer sky over the Baltic sea.  The rosy colour was in her cheeks,
+her eyes were laughing.  This was a bride who had no misgivings.
+
+On seeing such a happy face returning from the altar the observer
+might have concluded that the bride had assuredly attained her
+desire; that she had secured a title; that the pre-nuptial
+settlement had been safely signed and sealed.
+
+But Desiree had none of these things.  It was nearly a hundred years
+ago.
+
+Her husband must have whispered some laughing comment on Koch, or
+another appeal to her quick sense of the humorous, for she looked
+into his changing face and gave a low, girlish laugh of amusement as
+they descended the steps together into the brilliant sunlight.
+
+Charles Darragon wore one of the countless uniforms that enlivened
+the outward world in the great days of the greatest captain that
+history has seen.  He was unmistakably French--unmistakably a French
+gentleman, as rare in 1812 as he is to-day.  To judge from his small
+head and clean-cut features, fine and mobile; from his graceful
+carriage and slight limbs, this man was one of the many bearing
+names that begin with the fourth letter of the alphabet since the
+Terror only.
+
+He was merely a lieutenant in a regiment of Alsatian recruits; but
+that went for nothing in the days of the Empire.  Three kings in
+Europe had begun no farther up the ladder.
+
+The Frauengasse is a short street, made narrow by the terrace that
+each house throws outward from its face, each seeking to gain a few
+inches on its neighbour.  It runs from the Marienkirche to the
+Frauenthor, and remains to-day as it was built three hundred years
+ago.
+
+Desiree nodded and laughed to the children, who interested her.  She
+was quite simple and womanly, as some women, it is to be hoped, may
+succeed in continuing until the end of time.  She was always pleased
+to see children; was glad, it seemed, that they should have
+congregated on the steps to watch her pass.  Charles, with a faint
+and unconscious reflex of that grand manner which had brought his
+father to the guillotine, felt in his pocket for money, and found
+none.
+
+He jerked his hand out with widespread fingers, in a gesture
+indicative of familiarity with the nakedness of the land.
+
+"I have nothing, little citizens," he said with a mock gravity;
+"nothing but my blessing."
+
+And he made a gay gesture with his left hand over their heads, not
+the act of benediction, but of peppering, which made them all laugh.
+The bride and bridegroom passing on joined in the laughter with
+hearts as light and voices scarcely less youthful.
+
+The Frauengasse is intersected by the Pfaffengasse at right angles,
+through which narrow and straight street passes much of the traffic
+towards the Langenmarkt, the centre of the town.  As the little
+bridal procession reached the corner of this street, it halted at
+the approach of some mounted troops.  There was nothing unusual in
+this sight in the streets of Dantzig, which were accustomed now to
+the clatter of the Saxon cavalry.
+
+But at the sight of the first troopers Charles Darragon threw up his
+head with a little exclamation of surprise.
+
+Desiree looked at him and then turned to follow the direction of his
+gaze.
+
+"What are these?" she murmured.  For the uniforms were new and
+unfamiliar.
+
+"Cavalry of the Old Guard," replied her husband, and as he spoke he
+caught his breath.
+
+The horsemen vanished into the continuation of the Pfaffengasse, and
+immediately behind them came a travelling carriage, swung on high
+wheels, three times the size of a Dantzig drosky, white with dust.
+It had small square windows.  As Desiree drew back in obedience to a
+movement of her husband's arm, she saw a face for an instant--pale
+and set--with eyes that seemed to look at everything and yet at
+something beyond.
+
+"Who was it?  He looked at you, Charles," said Desiree.
+
+"It is the Emperor," answered Darragon.  His face was white.  His
+eyes were dull, like the eyes of one who has seen a vision and is
+not yet back to earth.
+
+Desiree turned to those behind her.
+
+"It is the Emperor," she said, with an odd ring in her voice which
+none had ever heard before.  Then she stood looking after the
+carriage.
+
+Her father, who was at her elbow--tall, white-haired, with an
+aquiline, inscrutable face--stood in a like attitude, looking down
+the Pfaffengasse.  His hand was raised before his face with
+outspread fingers which seemed rigid in that gesture, as if lifted
+hastily to screen his face and hide it.
+
+"Did he see me?" he asked in a low voice which only Desiree heard.
+
+She glanced at him, and her eyes, which were clear as a cloudless
+sky, were suddenly shadowed by a suspicion quick and poignant.
+
+"He seemed to see everything, but he only looked at Charles," she
+answered.  For a moment they all stood in the sunshine looking
+towards the Langenmarkt where the tower of the Rathhaus rose above
+the high roofs.  The dust raised by the horses' feet and the
+carriage wheels slowly settled on their bridal clothes.
+
+It was Desiree who at length made a movement to continue their way
+towards her father's house.
+
+"Well," she said with a slight laugh, "he was not bidden to my
+wedding, but he has come all the same."
+
+Others laughed as they followed her.  For a bride at the church-
+door, or a judge on the bench, or a criminal on the scaffold-steps,
+need make but a very small joke to cause merriment.  Laughter is
+often nothing but the froth of tears.
+
+There were faces suddenly bleached in the little group of wedding-
+guests, and none were whiter than the handsome features of Mathilde
+Sebastian, Desiree's elder sister, who looked angry, had frowned at
+the children, and seemed to find this simple wedding too bourgeois
+for her taste.  She carried her head with an air that told the world
+not to expect that she should ever be content to marry in such a
+humble style, and walk from the church in satin slippers like any
+daughter of a burgher.
+
+This, at all events, was what old Koch the locksmith must have read
+in her beautiful, discontented face.
+
+"Ah! ah!" he muttered to the bolts as he shot them.  "But it is not
+the lightest hearts that quit the church in a carriage."
+
+So simple were the arrangements that bride and bridegroom and
+wedding-guests had to wait in the street while the servant unlocked
+the front door of No. 36 with a great key hurriedly extracted from
+her apron-pocket.
+
+There was no unusual stir in the street.  The windows of one or two
+of the houses had been decorated with flowers.  These were the
+houses of friends.  Others were silent and still behind their lace
+curtains, where there doubtless lurked peeping and criticizing eyes-
+-the house of a neighbour.
+
+The wedding-guests were few in number.  Only one of them had a
+distinguished air, and he, like the bridegroom, wore the uniform of
+France.  He was a small man, somewhat brusque in attitude, as became
+a soldier of Italy and Egypt.  But he had a pleasant smile and that
+affability of manner which many learnt in the first years of the
+great Republic.  He and Mathilde Sebastian never looked at each
+other:  either an understanding or a misunderstanding.
+
+The host, Antoine Sebastian, played his part well enough when he
+remembered that he had a part to play.  He listened with a kind
+attention to the story of a very old lady, who it seemed had been
+married herself, but it was so long ago that the human interest of
+it all was lost in a pottle of petty detail which was all she could
+recall.  Before the story was half finished, Sebastian's attention
+had strayed elsewhere, though his spare figure remained in its
+attitude of attention and polite forbearance.  His mind had, it
+would seem, a trick of thus wandering away and leaving his body
+rigid in the last attitude that it had dictated.
+
+Sebastian did not notice that the door was open and all the guests
+were waiting for him to lead the way.
+
+"Now, old dreamer," whispered Desiree, with a quick pinch on his
+arm, "take the Grafin upstairs to the drawing-room and give her
+wine.  You are to drink our healths, remember."
+
+"Is there wine?" he asked with a vague smile.  "Where has it come
+from?"
+
+"Like other good things, my father-in-law," replied Charles with his
+easy laugh, "it comes from France."
+
+They spoke together thus in confidence, in the language of that same
+sunny land.  But when Sebastian turned again to the old lady, still
+recalling the details of that other wedding, he addressed her in
+German, offering his arm with a sudden stiffness of gesture which he
+seemed to put on with the change of tongue.
+
+They passed up the low time-worn steps arm-in-arm, and beneath the
+high carved doorway, whereon some pious Hanseatic merchant had
+inscribed his belief that if God be in the house there is no need of
+a watchman, emphasizing his creed by bolts and locks of enormous
+strength, and bars to every window.
+
+The servant in her Samland Sunday dress, having shaken her fist at
+the children, closed the door behind the last guest, and, so far as
+the Frauengasse was concerned, the exciting incident was over.  From
+the open window came only the murmur of quiet voices, the clink of
+glasses at the drinking of a toast, or a laugh in the clear voice of
+the bride herself.  For Desiree persisted in her optimistic view of
+these proceedings, though her husband scarcely helped her now at
+all, and seemed a different man since the passage through the
+Pfaffengasse of that dusty travelling carriage which had played the
+part of the stormy petrel from end to end of Europe.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.  A CAMPAIGNER.
+
+
+
+     Not what I am, but what I Do, is my Kingdom.
+
+Desiree had made all her own wedding-clothes.  "Her poor little
+marriage-basket," she called it.  She had even made the cake which
+was now cut with some ceremony by her father.
+
+"I tremble," she exclaimed aloud, "to think what it may be like in
+the middle."
+
+And Mathilde was the only person there who did not smile at the
+unconscious admission.  The cake was still under discussion, and the
+Grafin had just admitted that it was almost as good as that other
+cake which had been consumed in the days of Frederick the Great,
+when the servant called Desiree from the room.
+
+"It is a soldier," she said in a whisper at the head of the stairs.
+"He has a paper in his hand.  I know what that means.  He is
+quartered on us."
+
+Desiree hurried downstairs.  In the entrance-hall, a broad-built
+little man stood awaiting her.  He was stout and red, with hair all
+ragged at the temples, almost white.  His eyes were lost behind
+shaggy eyebrows.  His face was made broader by little whiskers
+stopping short at the level of his ear.  He had a snuff-blown
+complexion, and in the wrinkles of his face the dust of a dozen
+campaigns seemed to have accumulated.
+
+"Barlasch," he said curtly, holding out a long strip of blue paper.
+"Of the Guard.  Once a sergeant.  Italy, Egypt, the Danube."
+
+He frowned at Desiree while she read the paper in the dim light that
+filtered through the twisted bars of the fanlight above the door.
+
+Then he turned to the servant who stood, comely and breathless,
+looking him up and down.
+
+"Papa Barlasch," he added for her edification, and he drew down his
+left eyebrow with a jerk, so that it almost touched his cheek.  His
+right eye, grey and piercing, returned her astonished gaze with a
+fierce steadfastness.
+
+"Does this mean that you are quartered upon us?" asked Desiree
+without seeking to hide her disgust.  She spoke in her own tongue.
+
+"French?" said the soldier, looking at her.  "Good.  Yes.  I am
+quartered here.  Thirty-six, Frauengasse.  Sebastian; musician.  You
+are lucky to get me.  I always give satisfaction--ha!"
+
+He gave a curt laugh in one syllable only.  His left arm was curved
+round a bundle of wood bound together by a red pocket-handkerchief
+not innocent of snuff.  He held out this bundle to Desiree, as
+Solomon may have held out some great gift to the Queen of Sheba to
+smooth the first doubtful steps of friendship.
+
+Desiree accepted the gift and stood in her wedding-dress holding the
+bundle of wood against her breast.  Then a gleam of the one grey eye
+that was visible conveyed to her the fact that this walnut-faced
+warrior was smiling.  She laughed gaily.
+
+"It is well," said Barlasch.  "We are friends.  You are lucky to get
+me.  You may not think so now.  Would this woman like me to speak to
+her in Polish or German?"
+
+"Do you speak so many languages?"
+
+He shrugged his shoulders and spread out his arms as far as his many
+burdens allowed.  For he was hung round with a hundred parcels and
+packages.
+
+"The Old Guard," he said, "can always make itself understood."
+
+He rubbed his hands together with the air of a brisk man ready for
+any sort of work.
+
+"Now, where shall I sleep?" he asked.  "One is not particular, you
+understand.  A few minutes and one is at home--perhaps peeling the
+potatoes.  It is only a civilian who is ashamed of using his knife
+on a potato.  Papa Barlasch, they call me."
+
+Without awaiting an invitation he went forward towards the kitchen.
+He seemed to know the house by instinct.  His progress was
+accompanied by a clatter of utensils like that which heralds the
+coming of a carrier's cart.
+
+At the kitchen door he stopped and sniffed loudly.  There certainly
+was a slight odour of burning fat.  Papa Barlasch turned and shook
+an admonitory finger at the servant, but he said nothing.  He looked
+round at the highly polished utensils, at the table and floor both
+alike scrubbed clean by a vigorous northern arm.  And he was kind
+enough to nod approval.
+
+"On a campaign," he said to no one in particular, "a little bit of
+horse thrust into the cinders on the end of a bayonet--but in times
+of peace . . ."
+
+He broke off and made a gesture towards the saucepans which
+indicated quite clearly that he was between campaigns--inclined to
+good living.
+
+"I am a rude fork," he jerked to Desiree over his shoulder in the
+dialect of the Cotes du Nord.
+
+"How long will you be here?" asked Desiree, who was eminently
+practical.  A billet was a misfortune which Charles Darragon had
+hitherto succeeded in warding off.  He had some small influence as
+an officer of the head-quarters' staff.
+
+Barlasch held up a reproving hand.  The question, he seemed to
+think, was not quite delicate.
+
+"I pay my own," he said.  "Give and take--that is my motto.  When
+you have nothing to give . . . offer a smile."
+
+With a gesture he indicated the bundle of firewood which Desiree
+still absent-mindedly carried against her white dress.  He turned
+and opened a cupboard low down on the floor at the left-hand side of
+the fireplace.  He seemed to know by an instinct usually possessed
+by charwomen and other domesticated persons of experience where the
+firewood was kept.  Lisa gave a little exclamation of surprise at
+his impertinence and his perspicacity.  He took the firewood,
+unknotted his handkerchief, and threw his offering into the
+cupboard.  Then he turned and perceived for the first time that
+Desiree had a bright ribbon at her waist and on her shoulders; that
+a thin chain of gold was round her throat and that there were
+flowers at her breast.
+
+"A fete?" he inquired curtly.
+
+"My marriage fete," she answered.  "I was married half an hour ago."
+
+He looked at her beneath his grizzled brows.  His face was only
+capable of producing one expression--a shaggy weather-beaten
+fierceness.  But, like a dog which can express more than many human
+beings, by a hundred instinctive gestures he could, it seemed,
+dispense with words on occasion and get on quite as well without
+them.  He clearly disapproved of Desiree's marriage, and drew her
+attention to the fact that she was no more than a schoolgirl with an
+inconsequent brain, and little limbs too slight to fight a
+successful battle in a world full of cruelty and danger.
+
+Then he made a gesture half of apology as if recognizing that it was
+no business of his, and turned away thoughtfully.
+
+"I had troubles of that sort myself," he explained, putting together
+the embers on the hearth with the point of a twisted, rusty bayonet,
+"but that was long ago.  Well, I can drink your health all the same,
+mademoiselle."
+
+He turned to Lisa with a friendly nod and put out his tongue, in the
+manner of the people, to indicate that his lips were dry.
+
+Desiree had always been the housekeeper.  It was to her that Lisa
+naturally turned in her extremity at the invasion of her kitchen by
+Papa Barlasch.  And when that warrior had been supplied with beer it
+was with Desiree, in an agitated whisper in the great dark dining-
+room with its gloomy old pictures and heavy carving, that she took
+counsel as to where he should be quartered.
+
+The object of their solicitude himself interrupted their hurried
+consultation by opening the door and putting his shaggy head round
+the corner of it.
+
+"It is not worth while to consult long about it," he said.  "There
+is a little room behind the kitchen, that opens into the yard.  It
+is full of boxes.  But we can move them--a little straw--and there!"
+
+With a gesture he described a condition of domestic peace and
+comfort which far exceeded his humble requirements.
+
+"The blackbeetles and I are old friends," he concluded cheerfully.
+
+"There are no blackbeetles in the house, monsieur," said Desiree,
+hesitating to accept his proposal.
+
+"Then I shall resign myself to my solitude," he answered.  "It is
+quiet.  I shall not hear the patron touching on his violin.  It is
+that which occupies his leisure, is it not?"
+
+"Yes," answered Desiree, still considering the question.
+
+"I too am a musician," said Papa Barlasch, turning towards the
+kitchen again.  "I played a drum at Marengo."
+
+And as he led the way to the little room in the yard at the back of
+the kitchen, he expressed by a shake of the head a fellow-feeling
+for the gentleman upstairs, whose acquaintance he had not yet made,
+who occupied his leisure by touching the violin.
+
+They stood together in the small apartment which Barlasch, with the
+promptitude of an experienced conqueror, had set apart for his own
+accommodation.
+
+"Those trunks," he observed casually, "were made in France"--a
+mental note which he happened to make aloud, as some do for better
+remembrance.  "This solid girl and I will soon move them.  And you,
+mademoiselle, go back to your wedding."
+
+"The good God be merciful to you," he added under his breath when
+Desiree had gone.
+
+She laughed as she mounted the stairs, a slim white figure amid the
+heavy woodwork long since blackened by time.  The stairs made no
+sound beneath her light step.  How many weary feet had climbed them
+since they were built!  For the Dantzigers have been a people of
+sorrow, torn by wars, starved by siege, tossed from one conqueror to
+another from the beginning until now.
+
+Desiree excused herself for her absence and frankly gave the cause.
+She was disposed to make light of the incident.  It was natural to
+her to be optimistic.  Both she and Mathilde made a practice of
+withholding from their father's knowledge the smaller worries of
+daily life which sour so many women and make them whine on platforms
+to be given the larger woes.
+
+She was glad to note that her father did not attach much importance
+to the arrival of Papa Barlasch; though Mathilde found opportunity
+to convey her displeasure at the news by a movement of the eyebrows.
+
+Antoine Sebastian had applied himself seriously now to his role of
+host, so rarely played in the Frauengasse.  He was courteous and
+quick to see a want or a possible desire of any one of his guests.
+It was part of his sense of hospitality to dismiss all personal
+matters, and especially a personal trouble, from public attention.
+
+"They will attend to him in the kitchen, no doubt," he said with
+that grand air which the dancing academy tried to imitate.
+
+Charles hardly noted what Desiree said.  So sunny a nature as his
+might have been expected to make light of a minor trouble, more
+especially the minor trouble of another.  He was unusually
+thoughtful.  Some event of the morning had, it would appear, given
+him pause on his primrose path.  He glanced more than once over his
+shoulder towards the window, which stood open.  He seemed at times
+to listen.
+
+Suddenly he rose and went to the window.  His action caused a brief
+silence, and all heard the clatter of a horse's feet and the quick
+rattle of a sword against spur and buckle.
+
+After a glance he came back into the room.
+
+"Excuse me," he said, with a bow towards Mathilde.  "It is, I think,
+a messenger for me."
+
+And he hurried downstairs.  He did not return at once, and soon the
+conversation became general again.
+
+"You," said the Grafin, touching Desiree's arm with her fan, "you,
+who are now his wife, must be dying to know what has called him
+away.  Do not consider the 'convenances,' my child."
+
+Desiree, thus admonished, followed Charles.  She had not been aware
+of this consuming curiosity until it was suggested to her.
+
+She found Charles standing at the open door.  He thrust a letter
+into his pocket as she approached him, and turned towards her the
+face that she had seen for a moment when he drew her back at the
+corner of the Pfaffengasse to allow the Emperor's carriage to pass
+on its way.  It was the white, half-stupefied face of one who has
+for an instant seen a vision of things not earthly.
+
+"I have been sent for by the . . .  I am wanted at head-quarters,"
+he said vaguely.  "I shall not be long . . ."
+
+He took his shako, looked at her with an odd attempt to simulate
+cheerfulness, kissed her fingers and hurried out into the street.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.  FATE.
+
+
+
+     We pass; the path that each man trod
+     Is dim; or will be dim, with weeds.
+
+When Desiree turned towards the stairs, she met the guests
+descending.  They were taking their leave as they came down,
+hurriedly, like persons conscious of having outstayed their welcome.
+
+Mathilde listened coldly to the conventional excuses.  So few people
+recognize the simple fact that they need never apologize for going
+away.  Sebastian stood at the head of the stairs bowing in his most
+Germanic manner.  The urbane host, with a charm entirely French, who
+had dispensed a simple hospitality so easily and gracefully a few
+minutes earlier, seemed to have disappeared behind a pale and formal
+mask.
+
+Desiree was glad to see them go.  There was a sense of uneasiness, a
+vague unrest in the air.  There was something amiss.  The wedding
+party had been a failure.  All had gone well and merrily up to a
+certain point--at the corner of the Pfaffengasse, when the dusty
+travelling carriage passed across their path.  From that moment
+there had been a change.  A shadow seemed to have fallen across the
+sunny nature of the proceedings; for never had bride and bridegroom
+set forth together with lighter hearts than those carried by Charles
+and Desiree Darragon down the steps of the Marienkirche.
+
+During its progress across the whole width of Germany, the carriage
+had left unrest behind it.  Men had travelled night and day to stand
+sleepless by the roadside and see it pass.  Whole cities had been
+kept astir till morning by the mere rumour that its flying wheels
+would be heard in the streets before dawn.  Hatred and adoration,
+fear and that dread tightening of the heart-strings which is caused
+by the shadow of the superhuman, had sprung into being at the mere
+sound of its approach.
+
+When therefore it passed across the Frauengasse, throwing its dust
+upon Desiree's wedding-dress, it was only fulfilling a mission.
+When it broke in upon the lives of these few persons seeking dimly
+for their happiness--as the heathen grope for an unknown God--and
+threw down carefully constructed plans, swept aside the strongest
+will and crushed the stoutest heart, it was only working out its
+destiny.  The dust sprinkled on Desiree's hair had fallen on the
+faces of thousands of dead.  The unrest that entered into the quiet
+little house on the left-hand side of the Frauengasse had made its
+way across a thousand thresholds, of Arab tent and imperial palace
+alike.  The lives of millions were affected by it, the secret hopes
+of thousands were undermined by it.  It disturbed the sleep of half
+the world, and made men old before their time.
+
+"More troops must have arrived," said Desiree, already busying
+herself to set the house in order, "since they have been forced to
+billet this man with us.  And now they have sent for Charles, though
+he is really on leave of absence."
+
+She glanced at the clock.
+
+"I hope he will not be late.  The chaise is to come at four o'clock.
+There is still time for me to help you."
+
+Mathilde made no answer.  Their father stood near the window.  He
+was looking out with thoughtful eyes.  His face was drawn downwards
+by a hundred fine wrinkles.  It was the face of one brooding over a
+sorrow or a vengeance.  There was something in his whole being
+suggestive of a bygone prosperity.  This was a lean man who had once
+been well-seeming.
+
+"No!" said Desiree gaily, "we were a dull company.  We need not
+disguise it.  It all came from that man crossing our path in his
+dusty carriage."
+
+"He is on his way to Russia," Sebastian said jerkily.  "God spare me
+to see him return!"
+
+Desiree and Mathilde exchanged a glance of uneasiness.  It seemed
+that their father was subject to certain humours which they had
+reason to dread.  Desiree left her occupation and went to him,
+linking her arm in his and standing beside him.
+
+"Do not let us think of disagreeable things to-day," she said.  "God
+will spare you much longer than that, you depressing old wedding-
+guest!"
+
+He patted her hand which rested on his arm and looked down at her
+with eyes softened by affection.  But her fair hair, rather tumbled,
+which met his glance must have awakened some memory that made his
+face a marble mask again.
+
+"Yes," he said grimly, "but I am an old man and he is a young one.
+And I want to see him dead before I die."
+
+"I will not have you think such bloodthirsty thoughts on my wedding-
+day," said Desiree.  "See, there is Charles returning already, and
+he has not been absent ten minutes.  He has some one with him--who
+is it?  Papa . . . Mathilde, look!  Who is it coming back with
+Charles in such a hurry?"
+
+Mathilde, who was setting the room in order, glanced through the
+lace curtains.
+
+"I do not know," she answered indifferently.  "Just an ordinary
+man."
+
+Desiree had turned away from the window as if to go downstairs and
+meet her husband.  She paused and looked back again over her
+shoulder towards the street.
+
+"Is it?" she said rather oddly.  "I do not know--I--"
+
+And she stood with the incompleted sentence on her lips waiting
+irresolutely for Charles to come upstairs.
+
+In a moment he burst into the room with all his usual exuberance and
+high spirit.
+
+"Picture to yourselves!" he cried, standing in the doorway with his
+arms extended before him.  "I was hurrying to head-quarters when I
+ran into the embrace of my dear Louis--my cousin.  I have told you a
+hundred times that he is brother and father and everything to me.  I
+am so glad that he should come to-day of all days."
+
+He turned towards the stairs with a gesture of welcome, still with
+his two arms outheld, as if inviting the man, who came rather slowly
+upstairs, to come to his embrace and to the embrace of those who
+were now his relations.
+
+"There was a little suspicion of sadness--I do not know what it was-
+-at the table; but now it is all gone.  All is well now that this
+unexpected guest has come.  This dear Louis."
+
+He went to the landing as he spoke, and returned bringing by the arm
+a man taller than himself and darker, with a still brown face and
+steady eyes set close together.  He had a lean look of good
+breeding.
+
+"This dear Louis!" repeated Charles.  "My only relative in all the
+world.  My cousin, Louis d'Arragon.  But he, par exemple, spells his
+name in two words."
+
+The man bowed gravely--a comprehensive bow; but he looked at
+Desiree.
+
+"This is my father-in-law," continued Charles breathlessly.
+"Monsieur Antoine Sebastian, and Desiree and Mathilde--my wife, my
+dear Louis--your cousin, Desiree."
+
+He had turned again to Louis and shook him by the shoulders in the
+fulness of his joy.  He had not distinguished between Mathilde and
+Desiree, and it was towards Mathilde that D'Arragon looked with a
+polite and rather formal repetition of his bow.
+
+"It is I . . .  I am Desiree," said the younger sister, coming
+forward with a slow gesture of shyness.
+
+D'Arragon took her hand.
+
+"I have been happy," he said, "in the moment of my arrival."
+
+Then he turned to Mathilde and bowed over the hand she held out to
+him.  Sebastian had come forward with a sudden return of his
+gracious and rather old-world manner.  He did not offer to shake
+hands, but bowed.
+
+"A son of Louis d'Arragon who was fortunate enough to escape to
+England?" he inquired with a courteous gesture.
+
+"The only son," replied the new-comer.
+
+"I am honoured to make the acquaintance of Monsieur le Marquis,"
+said Antoine Sebastian slowly.
+
+"Oh, you must not call me that," replied D'Arragon with a short
+laugh.  "I am an English sailor--that is all."
+
+"And now, my dear Louis, I leave you," broke in Charles, who had
+rather impatiently awaited the end of these formalities.  "A brief
+half-hour and I am with you again.  You will stay here till I
+return."
+
+He turned, nodded gaily to Desiree and ran downstairs.
+
+Through the open windows they heard his quick, light footfall as he
+hurried up the Frauengasse.  Something made them silent, listening
+to it.
+
+It was not difficult to see that D'Arragon was a sailor.  Not only
+had he the brown face of those who live in the open, but he had the
+attentive air of one whose waking moments are a watch.
+
+"You look at one as if one were the horizon," Desiree said to him
+long afterwards.  But it was at this moment in the drawing-room in
+the Frauengasse that the comparison formed itself in her mind.
+
+His face was rather narrow, with a square chin and straight lips.
+He was not quick in speech like Charles, but seemed to think before
+he spoke, with the result that he often appeared to be about to say
+something, and was interrupted before the words had been uttered.
+
+"Unless my memory is a bad one, your mother was an Englishwoman,
+monsieur," said Sebastian, "which would account for your being in
+the English service."
+
+"Not entirely," answered d'Arragon, "though my mother was indeed
+English and died--in a French prison.  But it was from a sense of
+gratitude that my father placed me in the English service--and I
+have never regretted it, monsieur."
+
+"Your father received kindnesses at English hands, after his escape,
+like many others."
+
+"Yes, and he was too old to repay them by doing the country any
+service himself.  He would have done it if he could--"
+
+D'Arragon paused, looking steadily at the tall old man who listened
+to him with averted eyes.
+
+"My father was one of those," he said at length, "who did not think
+that in fighting for Bonaparte one was necessarily fighting for
+France."
+
+Sebastian held up a warning hand.
+
+"In England--" he corrected, "in England one may think such things.
+But not in France, and still less in Dantzig."
+
+"If one is an Englishman," replied D'Arragon with a smile, "one may
+think them where one likes, and say them when one is disposed.  It
+is one of the privileges of the nation, monsieur."
+
+He made the statement lightly, seeing the humour of it with a
+cosmopolitan understanding, without any suggestion of the
+boastfulness of youth.  Desiree noticed that his hair was turning
+grey at the temples.
+
+"I did not know," he said, turning to her, "that Charles was in
+Dantzig, much less that he was celebrating so happy an occasion.  We
+ran against each other by accident in the street.  It was a lucky
+accident that allowed me to make your acquaintance so soon after you
+have become his wife."
+
+"It scarcely seems possible that it should be an accident," said
+Desiree.  "It must have been the work of fate--if fate has time to
+think of such an insignificant person as myself and so small an
+event as my marriage in these days."
+
+"Fate," put in Mathilde in her composed voice and manner, "has come
+to Dantzig to-day."
+
+"Ah!"
+
+"Yes.  You are the second unexpected arrival this afternoon."
+
+D'Arragon turned and looked at Mathilde.  His manner, always grave
+and attentive, was that of a reader who has found an interesting
+book on a dusty shelf.
+
+"Has the Emperor come?" he asked.
+
+Mathilde nodded.
+
+"I thought I saw something in Charles's face," he said reflectively,
+looking back through the open door towards the stairs where Charles
+had nodded farewell to them.  "So the Emperor is here, in Dantzig?"
+
+He turned towards Sebastian, who stood with a stony face.
+
+"Which means war," he said.
+
+"It always means war," replied Sebastian in a tired voice.  "Is he
+again going to prove himself stronger than any?"
+
+"Some day he will make a mistake," said D'Arragon cheerfully.  "And
+then will come the day of reckoning."
+
+"Ah!" said Sebastian, with a shake of the head that seemed to
+indicate an account so one-sided that none could ever liquidate it.
+"You are young, monsieur.  You are full of hope."
+
+"I am not young--I am thirty-one--but I am, as you say, full of
+hope.  I look to that day, Monsieur Sebastian."
+
+"And in the mean time?" suggested the man who seemed but a shadow of
+someone standing apart and far away from the affairs of daily life
+
+"In the mean time one must play one's part," returned D'Arragon,
+with his almost inaudible laugh, "whatever it may be."
+
+There was no foreboding in his voice; no second meaning in the
+words.  He was open and simple and practical, like the life he led.
+
+"Then you have a part to play, too," said Desiree, thinking of
+Charles, who had been called away at such an inopportune moment, and
+had gone without complaint.  "It is the penalty we pay for living in
+one of the less dull periods of history.  He touches your life too."
+
+"He touches every one's life, mademoiselle.  That is what makes him
+so great a man.  Yes.  I have a little part to play.  I am like one
+of the unseen supernumeraries who has to see that a door is open to
+allow the great actors to make an effective entree.  I am lent to
+Russia for the war that is coming.  It is a little part.  I have to
+keep open one small portion of the line of communication between
+England and St. Petersburg, so that news may pass to and fro."
+
+He glanced towards Mathilde as he spoke.  She was listening with an
+odd eagerness which he noted, as he noted everything, methodically
+and surely.  He remembered it afterwards.
+
+"That will not be easy, with Denmark friendly to France," said
+Sebastian, "and every Prussian port closed to you."
+
+"But Sweden will help.  She is not friendly to France."
+
+Sebastian laughed, and made a gesture with his white and elegant
+hand, of contempt and ridicule.
+
+"And, bon Dieu! what a friendship it is," he exclaimed, "that is
+based on the fear of being taken for an enemy."
+
+"It is a friendship that waits its time, monsieur," said D'Arragon
+taking up his hat.
+
+"Then you have a ship, monsieur, here in the Baltic?" asked Mathilde
+with more haste than was characteristic of her usual utterance.
+
+"A very small one, mademoiselle," he answered.  "So small that I
+could turn her round here in the Frauengasse."
+
+"But she is fast?"
+
+"The fastest in the Baltic, mademoiselle," he answered.  "And that
+is why I must take my leave--with the news you have told me."
+
+He shook hands as he spoke, and bowed to Sebastian, whose generation
+was content with the more formal salutation.  Desiree went to the
+door, and led the way downstairs.
+
+"We have but one servant," she said, "who is busy."
+
+On the doorstep he paused for a moment.  And Desiree seemed to
+expect him to do so.
+
+"Charles and I have always been like brothers--you will remember
+that always, will you not?"
+
+"Yes," she answered with her gay nod.  "I will remember."
+
+"Then good-bye, mademoiselle."
+
+"Madame," she corrected lightly.
+
+"Madame, my cousin," he said, and departed smiling.
+
+Desiree went slowly upstairs again.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.  THE CLOUDED MOON.
+
+
+
+  Quand on se mefie on se trompe, quand on ne se mefie pas, on est
+trompe.
+
+Charles Darragon had come to Dantzig a year earlier.  He was a
+lieutenant in an infantry regiment, and he was twenty-five.  Many of
+his contemporaries were colonels in these days of quick promotion,
+when men lived at such a rate that few of them lived long.  But
+Charles was too easy-going to envy any man.
+
+When he arrived he knew no one in Dantzig, had few friends in the
+army of occupation.  In six months he possessed acquaintances in
+every street, and was on terms of easy familiarity with all his
+fellow-officers.
+
+"If the army of occupation had more officers like young Darragon," a
+town councillor had grimly said to Rapp, "the Dantzigers would soon
+be resigned to your presence."
+
+It seemed that Charles had the gift of popularity.  He was open and
+hearty, hail-fellow-well-met with the new-comers, who were numerous
+enough at this time, quick to understand the quiet men, ready to
+make merry with the gay.  Regarding himself, he was quite open and
+frank.
+
+"I am a poor devil of a lieutenant," he said, "that is all."
+
+Reserve is fatal to popularity, yet friendship cannot exist without
+it.  Charles had, it seemed, nothing to hide, and was indifferent to
+the secrets of others.  It is such people who receive many
+confidences.
+
+"But it must go no farther . . ." a hundred men had said to him.
+
+"My friend, by to-morrow I shall have forgotten all about it," he
+invariably replied, which men remembered afterwards and were glad.
+
+A certain sort of friendship seemed to exist between Charles
+Darragon and Colonel de Casimir--not without patronage on one side
+and a slightly constraining sense of obligation on the other.  It
+was de Casimir who had introduced Charles to Mathilde Sebastian at a
+formal reception at General Rapp's.  Charles, of course, fell in
+love with Mathilde, and out again after half-an-hour's conversation.
+There was something cold and calculating about Mathilde which held
+him at arm's length with as much efficacy as the strictest duenna.
+Indeed, there are some maidens who require no better chaperon for
+their hearts than their own heads.
+
+A few days after this introduction Charles met Mathilde and Desiree
+in the Langgasse, and he fell in love with Desiree.  He went about
+for a whole week seeking opportunity to tell her without delay what
+had happened to him.  The opportunity presented itself before long;
+for one morning he saw her walking quickly towards the Kuh-brucke
+with her skates swinging from her wrist.  It was a sunny, still,
+winter morning, such as temperate countries never know.  Desiree's
+eyes were bright with youth and happiness.  The cold air had
+slightly emphasized the rosy colour of her cheeks.
+
+Charles caught his breath at the sight of her, though she did not
+happen to perceive him.  He called a sleigh and drove to the
+barracks for his own skates.  Then to the Kuh-brucke, where a reach
+of the Mottlau was cleared and kept in order for skating.  He
+overpaid the sleigh-driver and laughed aloud at the man's boorish
+surprise.  There was no one so happy as Charles Darragon in all the
+world.  He was going to tell Desiree that he loved her.
+
+At first Desiree was surprised, as was only natural.  For she had
+not thought again of the pleasant young officer introduced to her by
+Mathilde.  They had not even commented on him after he had made his
+gay bow and gone.
+
+She had of course thought of these things in the abstract when her
+busy mind had nothing more material and immediate to consider.  She
+had probably arranged how some abstract person should some day tell
+her of his love and how she should make reply.  But she had never
+imagined the incident as it actually happened.  She had never
+pictured a youth in a gay uniform looking down at her with ardent
+eyes as he skated by her side through the crisp still air, while the
+ice sang a high clear song beneath their feet in accompaniment to
+his hurried laughing words of protestation.  He seemed to touch life
+lightly and to anticipate nothing but happiness.  In truth, it was
+difficult to be tragic on such a morning.
+
+These were the heedless days of the beginning of the century, when
+men not only threw away their lives, but played ducks-and-drakes
+with their chances of happiness in a manner quite incomprehensible
+to the careful method of human thought to-day.  Charles Darragon
+lived only in the present moment.  He was in love with her.  Desiree
+must marry him.
+
+It was quite different from what she had anticipated.  She had
+looked forward to such a moment with a secret misgiving.  The
+abstract person of her thoughts had always inspired her with a
+painful shyness and an indefinite, breathless fear.  But the lover
+who was here now in the flesh by her side inspired none of these
+feelings.  On the contrary, she felt easy and natural and quite at
+home with him.  There was nothing alarming about his flushed face
+and laughing eyes.  She was not at all afraid of him.  She even felt
+in some vague way older than he, though he had just told her that he
+was twenty-five, and four years her senior.
+
+She accepted the violets which he had hurriedly bought for her as he
+came through the Langenmarkt, but she would not say that she loved
+him, because she did not.  She was in most ways quite a matter-of-
+fact person, and she was of an honest mind.  She said she would
+think about it.  She did not love him now--she knew that.  She could
+not say that she would not learn to love him some day, but there
+seemed no likelihood of it at present.  Then he would shoot himself!
+He would certainly shoot himself unless she learnt to love him!  And
+she asked "When?" and they both laughed.  They changed the subject,
+but after a time they came back to it; which is the worst of love--
+one always comes back to it.
+
+Then suddenly he began to assume an air of proprietorship, and burst
+into a hundred explanations of what fears he felt for her; for her
+happiness and welfare.  Her father was absent-minded and heedless.
+He was not a fit guardian for her.  Was she not the prettiest girl
+in all Dantzig--in all the world?  Her sister was not fond enough of
+her to care for her properly.  He announced his intention of seeing
+her father the next day.  Everything should be done in order.  Not a
+word must be hinted by the most watchful neighbour against the
+perfect propriety of their betrothal.
+
+Desiree laughed and said that he was progressing rather rapidly.
+She had only her instinct to guide her through these troubled
+waters; which was much better than experience.  Experience in a
+woman is tantamount to a previous conviction against a prisoner.
+
+Charles was grave, however; a rare tribute.  He was in love for the
+first time, which often makes men quite honest for a brief period--
+even unselfish.  Of course, some men are honest and unselfish all
+their lives; which perhaps means that they remain in love--for the
+first time--all their lives.  They are rare, of course.  But the
+sort of woman with whom it is possible to remain in love all through
+a lifetime is rarer.
+
+So Charles waylaid Antoine Sebastian the next day as he went out of
+the Frauenthor for his walk in the morning sun by the side of the
+frozen Mottlau.  He was better received than he had any reason to
+expect.
+
+"I am only a lieutenant," he said, "but in these days, monsieur, you
+know--there are possibilities."
+
+He laughed gaily as he waved his gloves in the direction of Russia,
+across the river.  But Sebastian's face clouded, and Charles, who
+was quick and sympathetic, abandoned that point in his argument
+almost before the words were out of his lips.
+
+"I have a little money," he said, "in addition to my pay.  I assure
+you, monsieur, I am not of mean birth."
+
+"You are an orphan?" said Sebastian curtly.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Of the . . . Terror?"
+
+"Yes; I--well, one does not make much of one's parentage in these
+rough times--monsieur."
+
+"Your father's name was Charles--like your own?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"The second son?"
+
+"Yes, monsieur.  Did you know him?"
+
+"One remembers a name here and there," answered Sebastian, in his
+stiff manner, looking straight in front of him.
+
+"There was a tone in your voice--," began Charles, and, again
+perceiving that he was on a false scent, broke off abruptly.  "If
+love can make mademoiselle happy--," he said; and a gesture of his
+right hand seemed to indicate that his passion was beyond the
+measure of words.
+
+So Charles Darragon was permitted to pay his addresses to Desiree in
+the somewhat formal manner of a day which, upon careful
+consideration, will be found to have been no more foolish than the
+present.  He made no inquiries respecting Desiree's parentage.  It
+was Desiree he wanted, and that was all.  They understood the arts
+of love and war in the great days of the Empire.
+
+The rest was easy enough, and the gods were kind.  Charles had even
+succeeded in getting a month's leave of absence.  They were to spend
+their honeymoon at Zoppot, a little fishing-village hidden in the
+pines by the Baltic shore, only eight miles from Dantzig, where the
+Vistula loses itself at last in the salt water.
+
+All these arrangements had been made, as Desiree had prepared her
+trousseau, with a zest and gaiety which all were invited to enjoy.
+It is said that love is an egoist.  Charles and Desiree had no
+desire to keep their happiness to themselves, but wore it, as it
+were, upon their sleeves.
+
+The attitude of the Frauengasse towards Desiree's wedding was only
+characteristic of the period.  Every house in Dantzig looked askance
+upon its neighbour at this time.  Each roof covered a number of
+contending interests.
+
+Some were for the French, and some for the conqueror's unwilling
+ally, William of Prussia.  The names above the shops were German and
+Polish.  There are to-day Scotch names also, here as elsewhere on
+the Baltic shores.  When the serfs were liberated it was necessary
+to find surnames for these free men--these Pauls-the-son-of-Paul;
+and the nobles of Esthonia and Lithuania were reading Sir Walter
+Scott at the time.
+
+The burghers of Dantzig ("They must be made to pay, these rich
+Dantzigers," wrote Napoleon to Rapp) trembled for their wealth, and
+stood aghast by their empty counting-houses; for their gods had been
+cast down; commerce was at a standstill.  There were many,
+therefore, who hated the French, and cherished a secret love of
+those bluff British captains--so like themselves in build, and
+thought, and slowness of speech--who would thrash their wooden brigs
+through the shallow seas, despite decrees and threats and sloops-of-
+war, so long as they could lay them alongside the granaries of the
+Vistula.  Lately the very tolls had been collected by a French
+customs service, and the wholesale smuggling, to which even Governor
+Rapp--that long-headed Alsatian--had closed his eyes, was at an end.
+
+Again, the Poles who looked on Dantzig as the seaport of that great
+kingdom of Eastern Europe which was and is no more, had been assured
+that France would set up again the throne of the Jagellons and the
+Sobieskis.  There was a Poniatowski high in the Emperor's service
+and esteem.  The Poles were for France.
+
+The Jew, hurrying along close by the wall--always in the shadow--
+traded with all and trusted none.  Who could tell what thoughts were
+hidden beneath the ragged fur cap--what revenge awaited its
+consummation in the heart crushed by oppression and contempt?
+
+Besides these civilians there were many who had a military air
+within their civil garb.  For the pendulum of war had swung right
+across from Cadiz to Dantzig, and swept northwards in its wake the
+merchants of death, the men who live by feeding soldiers and rifling
+the dead.
+
+All these were in the streets, rubbing shoulders with the gay
+epaulettes of the Saxons, the Badeners, the Wurtembergers, the
+Westphalians, and the Hessians, who had been poured into Dantzig by
+Napoleon during the months when he had continued to exchange
+courteous and affectionate letters with Alexander of Russia.  For
+more than a year the broad-faced Bavarians (who have borne the brunt
+of every war in Central Europe) had been peaceably quartered in the
+town.  Half a dozen different tongues were daily heard in this city
+of the plain, and no man knew who might be his friend and who his
+enemy.  For some who were allies to-day were commanded by their
+kings to slay each other to-morrow.
+
+In the wine-cellars and the humbler beer-shops, in the great houses
+of the councillors, and behind the snowy lace curtains of the
+Frauengasse and the Portchaisengasse a thousand slow Northerners
+spoke of these things and kept them in their hearts.  A hundred
+secret societies passed from mouth to mouth instruction, warning,
+encouragement.  Germany has always been the home of the secret
+society.  Northern Europe gave birth to those countless associations
+which have proved stronger than kings and surer than a throne.  The
+Hanseatic League, the first of the commercial unions which were
+destined to build up the greatest empire of the world, lived longest
+in Dantzig.
+
+The Tugendbund, men whispered, was not dead but sleeping.  Napoleon,
+who had crushed it once, was watching for its revival; had a whole
+army of his matchless secret police ready for it.  And the
+Tugendbund had had its centre in Dantzig.
+
+Perhaps, in the Rathskeller itself--one of the largest wine stores
+in the world, where tables and chairs are set beneath the arches of
+the Exchange, a vast cave under the streets--perhaps here the
+Tugendbund still encouraged men to be virtuous and self-denying for
+no other or higher purpose than the overthrow of the Scourge of
+Europe.  Here the richer citizens have met from time immemorial to
+drink with solemnity and a decent leisure the wines sent hither in
+their own ships from the Rhine, from Greece and the Crimea, from
+Bordeaux and Burgundy, from the Champagne and Tokay.  This is not
+only the Rathskeller, but the real Rathhaus, where the Dantzigers
+have taken counsel over their afternoon wine from generation to
+generation, whence have been issued to all the world those decrees
+of probity and a commercial uprightness between buyer and seller,
+debtor and creditor, master and man, which reached to every corner
+of the commercial world.  And now it was whispered that the latter-
+day Dantzigers--the sons of those who formed the Hanseatic League:
+mostly fat men with large faces and shrewd, calculating eyes; high
+foreheads; good solid men, who knew the world, and how to make their
+way in it; withal, good judges of a wine and great drinkers, like
+that William the Silent, who braved and met and conquered the
+European scourge of mediaeval times--it was whispered that these
+were reviving the Tugendbund.
+
+Amid such contending interests, and in a free city so near to
+several frontiers, men came and went without attracting undesired
+attention.  Each party suspected a new-comer of belonging to the
+other.
+
+"He scrapes a fiddle," Koch had explained to the inquiring fishwife.
+And perhaps he knew no more than this of Antoine Sebastian.
+Sebastian was poor.  All the Frauengasse knew that.  But the
+Frauengasse itself was poor, and no man in Dantzig was so foolish at
+this time as to admit that he had possessions.
+
+This was, moreover, not the day of display or snobbery.  The king of
+snobs, Louis XVI., had died to some purpose, for a wave of manliness
+had swept across human thought at the beginning of the century.  The
+world has rarely been the poorer for the demise of a Bourbon.
+
+The Frauengasse knew that Antoine Sebastian played the fiddle to
+gain his daily bread, while his two daughters taught dancing for
+that same safest and most satisfactory of all motives.
+
+"But he holds his head so high!" once observed the stout and matter-
+of-fact daughter of a Councillor.  "Why has he that grand manner?"
+
+"Because he is a dancing-master," replied Desiree with a grave
+assurance.  "He does it so that you may copy him.  Chin up.  Oh! how
+fat you are."
+
+Desiree herself was slim enough and as yet only half grown.  She did
+not dance so well as Mathilde, who moved through a quadrille with
+the air of a duchess, and threw into a polonaise or mazurka a quiet
+grace which was the envy and despair of her pupils.  Mathilde was
+patient with the slow and heavy of foot, while Desiree told them
+bluntly that they were fat.  Nevertheless, they were afraid of
+Mathilde, and only laughed at Desiree when she rushed angrily at
+them, and, seizing them by the arms, danced them round the room with
+the energy of despair.
+
+Sebastian, who had an oddly judicial air, such as men acquire who
+are in authority, held the balance evenly between the sisters, and
+smiled apologetically over his fiddle towards the victim of
+Desiree's impetuosity.
+
+"Yes," he would reply to watching mothers, who tried to lead him to
+say that their daughter was the best dancer in the school:  "Yes,
+Mathilde puts it into their heads, and Desiree shakes it down to
+their feet."
+
+In all matters of the household Desiree played a similar part.  She
+was up early and still astir after nine o'clock at night, when the
+other houses in the Frauengasse were quiet, if there were work to
+do.
+
+"It is because she has no method," said Mathilde, who had herself a
+well-ordered mind, and that quickness which never needs to hurry.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.  THE WEISSEN ROSS'L.
+
+
+
+     The moth will singe her wings, and singed return,
+     Her love of light quenching her fear of pain.
+
+There are quite a number of people who get through life without
+realizing their own insignificance.  Ninety-nine out of a hundred
+persons signify nothing, and the hundredth is usually so absorbed in
+the message which he has been sent into the world to deliver that he
+loses sight of the messenger altogether.
+
+By a merciful dispensation of Providence we are permitted to bustle
+about in our immediate little circle like the ant, running hither
+and thither with all the sublime conceit of that insect.  We pick
+up, as he does, a burden which on close inspection will be found to
+be absolutely valueless, something that somebody else has thrown
+away.  We hoist it over obstructions while there is usually a short
+way round; we fret and sweat and fume.  Then we drop the burden and
+rush off at a tangent to pick up another.  We write letters to our
+friends explaining to them what we are about.  We even indite
+diaries to be read by goodness knows whom, explaining to ourselves
+what we have been doing.  Sometimes we find something that really
+looks valuable, and rush to our particular ant-heap with it while
+our neighbours pause and watch us.  But they really do not care; and
+if the rumour of our discovery reach so far as the next ant-heap,
+the bustlers there are almost indifferent, though a few may feel a
+passing pang of jealousy.  They may perhaps remember our name, and
+will soon forget what we discovered--which is Fame.  While we are
+falling over each other to attain this, and dying to tell each other
+what it feels like when we have it, or think we have it, let us
+pause for a moment and think of an ant--who kept a diary.
+
+Desiree did not keep a diary.  Her life was too busy for ink.  She
+had had to work for her daily bread, which is better than riches.
+Her life had been full of occupation from morning till night, and
+God had given her sleep from night till morning.  It is better to
+work for others than to think for them.  Some day the world will
+learn to have a greater respect for the workers than for the
+thinkers, who are idle, wordy persons, frequently thinking wrong.
+
+Desiree remembered the siege and the occupation of Dantzig by French
+troops.  She was at school in the Jopengasse when the Treaty of
+Tilsit--that peace which was nothing but a pause--was concluded.
+She had seen Luisa of Prussia, the good Queen who baffled Napoleon.
+Her childhood had passed away in the roar of siege-guns.  Her
+girlhood, in the Frauengasse, had been marked by the various woes of
+Prussia, by each successive step in the development of Napoleon's
+ambition.  There were no bogey-men in the night-nursery at the
+beginning of the century.  One Aaron's rod of a bogey had swallowed
+all the rest, and children buried their sobs in the pillow for fear
+of Napoleon.  There were no ghosts in the dark corners of the stairs
+when Desiree, candle in hand, went to bed at eight o'clock, half an
+hour before Mathilde.  The shadows on the wall were the shadows of
+soldiers--the wind roaring in the chimney was like the sound of
+distant cannon.  When the timid glanced over their shoulders, the
+apparition they looked for was that of a little man in a cocked hat
+and a long grey coat.
+
+This was not an age in which the individual life was highly valued.
+Men were great to-day and gone to-morrow.  Women were of small
+account.  It was the day of deeds and not of words.
+
+Desiree had never been oppressed by a sense of her own importance,
+which oppression leaves its mark on many a woman's face in these
+times.  She had not, it would seem, expected much from life; and
+when much was given to her she received it without misgivings.  She
+was young and light-hearted, and she lived in a reckless age.
+
+She was not surprised when Charles failed to return.  The chaise
+that was to carry them to Zoppot stood in the Frauengasse on the
+shady side of the street in the heat of the afternoon for more than
+an hour.  Then she ran out and told the driver to go back to his
+stables.
+
+"One cannot go for a honeymoon alone," she explained airily to her
+father, who was peevish and restless, standing by the window with
+the air of one who expects without knowing what to expect.  "It is,
+at all events, quite clear that there is nothing for me to do but
+wait."
+
+She made light of it, and laughed at her father's grave face.
+Mathilde said nothing, but her silence seemed to suggest that this
+was no more than she had foretold, or at all events foreseen.  She
+was too proud or too generous to put her thoughts into words.  For
+pride and generosity are often confounded.  There are many who give
+because they are too proud to withhold.
+
+Desiree got her needlework and sat by the open window awaiting
+Charles.  She could hear the continuous clatter of carts on the
+quay, and the voices of the men working in the great granaries
+across the river.
+
+The whole city seemed to be astir, and men hurried to and fro in
+even the quiet Frauengasse, while the clatter of cavalry and the
+heavy rumble of gun carriages could be heard over the roofs from the
+direction of the Langenmarkt.  There was a sense of hurry in the
+dusty air.  The Emperor had arrived, and the magic of his name
+lifted men out of themselves.  It seemed nothing extraordinary to
+Desiree that her life should be taken up by this whirlwind, and
+carried on she knew not whither.
+
+At dinner-time Charles had not returned.  Antoine Sebastian dined at
+half-past four, in the manner of Northern Europe; but his daughters
+provided his table with the lighter meats of France, which he
+preferred to the German cuisine.  Sebastian's dinner was an event in
+the day, though he ate sparingly enough, and found a mental rather
+than a physical pleasure in the ceremonious sequence of courses.
+
+It was now too late to think of going to Zoppot.  After dinner
+Mathilde and Desiree prepared the rooms which had been destined for
+the occupation of the married pair after the honeymoon.
+
+"We shall have to omit Zoppot, that is all," said Desiree
+cheerfully, and fell to unpacking the bridal clothes which had been
+so merrily laid in the trunks.
+
+At half-past six a soldier brought a hurried note from Charles.
+
+"I cannot return to-night, as I am about to start for Konigsberg,"
+he wrote.  "It is a commission which I could not refuse if I wished
+to.  You, I know, would have me go and do my duty."
+
+There was more which Desiree did not read aloud.  Charles had always
+found it easy enough to tell Desiree how much he loved her, and was
+gaily indifferent to the ears of others.  But she seemed to be
+restrained by some feeling which had found birth in her heart during
+her wedding day.  She said nothing of Charles's protestations of
+love.
+
+"Decidedly," she said, folding the letter, and placing it in her
+work-basket, "Fate is interfering in our affairs to-day."
+
+She turned to her work again without further complaint, almost with
+a sense of relief.  Mathilde, whose steady grey eyes saw everything,
+penetrating every thought, glanced at her with a suddenly aroused
+interest.  Desiree herself was half surprised at the philosophy with
+which she met this fresh misfortune.
+
+Antoine Sebastian had never acquired the habit of drinking tea in
+the evening, which had found favour in these northern countries
+bordering on Russia.  Instead, he usually went out at this time to
+one of the many wine-rooms or Bier Halles in the town to drink a
+slow and meditative glass of beer with such friends as he had made
+in Dantzig.  For he was a lonely man, whose face was quite familiar
+to many who looked for a bow or a friendly salutation in vain.
+
+If he went to the Rathskeller it was on the invitation of a friend;
+for he could not afford to pay the vintage of that cellar, though he
+drank the wine with the slow mouthing of a connoisseur when he had
+it.
+
+More often than not he took a walk first, passing out of the
+Frauenthor on to the quay, where he turned to left or right and made
+his way back through one or other of the town gates, by devious
+narrow streets to that which is still called the Portchaisengasse
+though chairs and carriers have long ceased to pass along it.  Here,
+on the northern side of the street is an old inn, "Zum weissen
+Ross'l," with a broken, ill-carved head of a white horse above the
+door.  Across the face of the house is written, in old German
+letters, an invitation:
+
+                    Gruss Gott.  Tritt ein!
+                    Bring Gluck herein.
+
+But few seemed to accept it.  Even a hundred years ago the White
+Horse was behind the times, and fashion sought the wider streets.
+
+Antoine Sebastian was perhaps ashamed of frequenting so humble a
+house of entertainment, where for a groschen he could have a glass
+of beer.  He seemed to make his way through the narrower streets for
+some purpose, changing his route from day to day, and hurrying
+across the wider thoroughfares with the air of one desirous to
+attract but little attention.  He was not alone in the quiet
+streets, for there were many in Dantzig at this time who from wealth
+had fallen to want.  Many counting-houses once noisy with prosperity
+were now closed and silent.  For five years the prosperous Dantzig
+had lain crushed beneath the iron heel of the conqueror.
+
+It would seem that Sebastian had only waited for the explanation of
+Charles's most ill-timed absence to carry out his usual programme.
+The clock in the tower of the Rathhaus had barely struck seven when
+he took his hat and cloak from the peg near the dining-room door.
+He was so absorbed that he did not perceive Papa Barlasch seated
+just within the open door of the kitchen.  But Barlasch saw him, and
+scratched his head at the sight.
+
+The northern evenings are chill even in June, and Sebastian fumbled
+with his cloak.  It would appear that he was little used to helping
+himself in such matters.  Barlasch came out of the kitchen when
+Sebastian's back was turned and helped him to put the flowing cloak
+straight upon his shoulders.
+
+"Thank you, Lisa, thank you," said Sebastian in German, without
+looking round.  By accident Barlasch had performed one of Lisa's
+duties, and the master of the house was too deeply engaged in
+thought to notice any difference in the handling or to perceive the
+smell of snuff that heralded the approach of Papa Barlasch.
+Sebastian took his hat and went out closing the door behind him, and
+leaving Barlasch, who had followed him to the door, standing rather
+stupidly on the mat.
+
+"Absent-minded--the citizen," muttered Barlasch, returning to the
+kitchen, where he resumed his seat on a chair by the open door.  He
+scratched his head and appeared to lapse into thought.  But his
+brain was slow as were his movements.  He had been drinking to the
+health of the bride.  He thumped himself on the brow with his closed
+fist.
+
+"Sacred-name-of-a-thunderstorm," he said.  "Where have I seen that
+face before?"
+
+Sebastian went out by the Frauenthor to the quay.  Although it was
+dusk, the granaries were still at work.  The river was full of craft
+and the roadway choked by rows and rows of carts, all of one
+pattern, too big and too heavy for roads that are laid across a
+marsh.
+
+He turned to the right, but found his way blocked at the corner of
+the Langenmarkt, where the road narrows to pass under the Grunes
+Thor.  Here the idlers of the evening hour were collected in a
+crowd, peering over each other's shoulders towards the roadway and
+the bridge.  Sebastian was a tall man, and had no need to stand on
+tip-toe in order to see the straight rows of bayonets swinging past,
+and the line of shakos rising and falling in unison with the beat of
+a thousand feet on the hollow woodwork of the drawbridge.
+
+The troops had been passing out of the city all the afternoon on the
+road to Elbing and Konigsberg.
+
+"It is the same," said a man standing near to Sebastian, "at the
+Hohes Thor, where they are marching out by the road leading to
+Konigsberg by way of Dessau."
+
+"It is farther than Konigsberg that they are going," was the
+significant answer of a white-haired veteran who had probably been
+at Eylau, for he had a crushed look.
+
+"But war is not declared," said the first speaker.
+
+"Does that matter?"
+
+And both turned towards Sebastian with the challenging air that
+invites opinion or calls for admiration of uncommon shrewdness.  He
+was better clad than they.  He must know more than they did.  But
+Sebastian looked over their heads and did not seem to have heard
+their conversation.
+
+He turned back and went another way, by side streets and the little
+narrow alleys that nearly always encircle a cathedral, and are still
+to be found on all sides of the Marienkirche.  At last he came to
+the Portchaisengasse, which was quiet enough in the twilight, though
+he could hear the tramp of soldiers along the Langgasse and the
+rumble of the guns.
+
+There were only two lamps in the Portchaisengasse, swinging on
+wrought-iron gibbets at each end of the street.  These were not yet
+alight, though the day was fading fast, and the western light could
+scarcely find its way between the high gables which hung over the
+road and seemed to lean confidentially towards each other.
+
+Sebastian was going towards the door of the Weissen Ross'l when some
+one came out of the hostelry, as if he had been awaiting him within
+the porch.
+
+The new-comer, who was a fat man with baggy cheeks and odd, light
+blue eyes--the eyes of an enthusiast, one would say--passed
+Sebastian, making a little gesture which at once recommended
+silence, and bade him turn and follow.  At the entrance to a little
+alley leading down towards the Marienkirche the fat man awaited
+Sebastian, whose pace had not quickened, nor had his walk lost any
+of its dignity.
+
+"Not there to-night," said the man, holding up a thick forefinger
+and shaking it sideways.
+
+"Then where?"
+
+"Nowhere to-night," was the answer.  "He has come--you know that?"
+
+"Yes," answered Sebastian slowly, "for I saw him."
+
+"He is at supper now with Rapp and the others.  The town is full of
+his people.  His spies are everywhere.  There are two in the Weissen
+Ross'l who pretend to be Bavarians.  See!  There is another--just
+there."
+
+He pointed the thick forefinger down the Portchaisengasse where it
+widens to meet the Langgasse, where the last remains of daylight,
+reflected to and fro between the houses, found freer play than in
+the narrow alley where they stood.
+
+Sebastian looked in the direction indicated.  An officer was walking
+away from them.  A quick observer would have noticed that his spurs
+made no noise, and that he carried his sword instead of allowing it
+to clatter after him.  It was not clear whence he had come.  It must
+have been from a doorway nearly opposite to the Weissen Ross'l.
+
+"I know that man," said Sebastian.
+
+"So do I," was the reply.  "It is Colonel de Casimir."
+
+With a little nod the fat man went out again into the
+Portchaisengasse in the direction of the inn, as if he were keeping
+watch there.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.  THE SHOEMAKER OF KONIGSBERG.
+
+
+
+     Chacun ne comprend que ce qu'il trouve en soi.
+
+Nearly two years had passed since the death of Queen Luisa of
+Prussia.  And she from her grave yet spake to her people--as sixty
+years later she was destined to speak to another King of Prussia,
+who said a prayer by her tomb before departing on a journey that was
+to end in Fontainebleau with an imperial crown and the reckoning for
+all time of the seven years of woe that followed Tilsit and killed a
+queen.
+
+Two years earlier than that, in 1808, while Luisa yet lived, a few
+scientists and professors of Konigsberg had formed a sort of Union--
+vague enough and visionary--to encourage virtue and discipline and
+patriotism.  And now, in 1812, four years later, the memory of Luisa
+still lingered in those narrow streets that run by the banks of the
+Pregel beneath the great castle of Konigsberg, while the Tugendbund,
+like a seed that has been crushed beneath an iron heel, had spread
+its roots underground.
+
+From Dantzig, the commercial, to Konigsberg, the kingly and the
+learned, the tide of war rolled steadily onwards.  It is a tide that
+carries before it a certain flotsam of quick and active men, keen-
+eyed, restless, rising--men who speak with a sharp authority and pay
+from a bottomless purse.  The arrival of Napoleon in Dantzig swept
+the first of the tide on to Konigsberg.
+
+Already every house was full.  The high-gabled warehouses on the
+riverside could not be used for barracks, for they too had been
+crammed from floor to roof with stores and arms.  So the soldiers
+slept where they could.  They bivouacked in the timber-yards by the
+riverside.  The country-women found the Neuer Markt transformed into
+a camp when they brought their baskets in the early morning, but
+they met with eager buyers, who haggled laughingly in half a dozen
+different tongues.  There was no lack of money, however.
+
+Cartloads of it were on the road.
+
+The Neuer Markt in Konigsberg is a square, of which the lower side
+is a quay on the Pregel.  The river is narrow here.  Across it the
+country is open.  The houses surrounding the quadrangle are all
+alike--two-storied buildings with dormer windows in the roof.  There
+are trees in front.  In front of that which is now Number Thirteen,
+at the right-hand corner, facing west, sideways to the river, the
+trees grow quite close to the windows, so that an active man or a
+boy might without great risk leap from the eaves below the dormer
+window into the topmost branches of the linden, which here grows
+strong and tough, as it surely should do in the fatherland.
+
+A young soldier, seeking lodgings, who happened to knock at the door
+of Number Thirteen less than thirty hours after the arrival of
+Napoleon at Dantzig, looked upward through the shady boughs, and
+noted their growth with the light of interest in his eye.  It would
+almost seem that the house had been described to him as that one in
+the Neuer Markt against which the lindens grew.  For he had walked
+all round the square between the trees and houses before knocking at
+this door, which bore no number then, as it does to-day.
+
+His tired horse had followed him meditatively, and now stood with
+drooping head in the shade.  The man himself wore a dark uniform,
+white with dust.  His hair was dusty and rather lank.  He was not a
+very tidy soldier.
+
+He stood looking at the sign which swung from the doorpost, a relic
+of the Polish days.  It bore the painted semblance of a boot.  For
+in Poland--a frontier country, as in frontier cities where many
+tongues are heard--it is the custom to paint a picture rather than
+write a word.  So that every house bears the sign of its inmate's
+craft, legible alike to Lithuanian or Ruthenian, Swede or Cossack of
+the Don.
+
+He knocked again, and at last the door was opened by a thickly-built
+man, who looked, not at his face, but at his boots.  As these wanted
+no repair he half closed the door again and looked at the newcomer's
+face.
+
+"What do you want?" he asked.
+
+"A lodging."
+
+The door was almost closed, when the soldier made an odd and, as it
+would seem, tentative gesture with his left hand.  All the fingers
+were clenched, and with his extended thumb he scratched his chin
+slowly from side to side.
+
+"I have no lodging to let," said the bootmaker.  But he did not shut
+the door.
+
+"I can pay," said the other, with his thumb still at his chin.  He
+had quick, blue eyes beneath the shaggy hair that wanted cutting.
+"I am very tired--it is only for one night."
+
+"Who are you?" asked the bootmaker.
+
+The soldier was a dull and slow man.  He leant against the doorpost
+with tired gestures before replying.
+
+"Sergeant in a Schleswig regiment, in charge of spare horses."
+
+"And you have come far?"
+
+"From Dantzig without a halt."
+
+The shoemaker looked him up and down with a doubting eye, as if
+there were something about him that was not quite clear and above-
+board.  The dust and fatigue were, however, unmistakable.
+
+"Who sent you to me, anyway?" he grumbled.
+
+"Oh, I do not know," was the half-impatient answer; "the man I
+lodged with in Dantzig or another, I forget.  It was Koch the
+locksmith in the Schmiedegasse.  See, I have money.  I tell you it
+is for one night.  Say yes or no.  I want to get to bed and to
+sleep."
+
+"How much do you pay?"
+
+"A thaler--if you like.  Among friends, one is willing to pay."
+
+After a short minute of hesitation the shoemaker opened the door
+wider and came out.
+
+"And there will be another thaler for the horse, which I shall have
+to take to the stable of the wood-merchant at the corner.  Go into
+the workshop and sit down till I come."
+
+He stood in the doorway and watched the soldier seat himself wearily
+on a bench in the workshop among the ancient boots, past repair, one
+would think, and lean his head against the wall.
+
+He was half asleep already, and the bootmaker, who was lame,
+shrugged his shoulders as he led away the tired horse, with a
+gesture half of pity, half of doubting suspicion.  Had it suggested
+itself to his mind, and had it been within the power of one so halt
+and heavy-footed to turn back noiselessly, he would have found his
+visitor wide-awake enough, hurriedly opening every drawer and
+peering under the twine and needles, lifting every bale of leather,
+shaking out the very boots awaiting repair.
+
+When the dweller in Number Thirteen returned, the soldier was
+asleep, and had to be shaken before he would open his eyes.
+
+"Will you eat before you go to bed?" asked the bootmaker not
+unkindly.
+
+"I ate as I came along the street," was the reply.  "No, I will go
+to bed.  What time is it?"
+
+"It is only seven o'clock--but no matter."
+
+"No, it is no matter.  To-morrow I must be astir by five."
+
+"Good," said the shoemaker.  "But you will get your money's worth.
+The bed is a good one.  It is my son's.  He is away, and I am alone
+in the house."
+
+He led the way upstairs as he spoke, going heavily one step at a
+time, so that the whole house seemed to shake beneath his tread.
+The room was that attic in the roof which has a dormer window
+overhanging the linden tree.  It was small and not too clean; for
+Konigsberg was once a Polish city, and is not far from the Russian
+frontier.
+
+The soldier hardly noticed his surroundings, but sat down instantly,
+with the abandonment of a shepherd's dog at the day's end.
+
+"I will put a stitch in your boots for you while you sleep," said
+the host casually.  "The thread is rotten, I can see.  Look here--
+and here!"
+
+He stooped, and with a quick turn of the awl which he carried in his
+belt he snapped the sewing at the join of the leg and the upper
+leather, bringing the frayed ends of the thread out to view.
+
+Without answering, the soldier looked round for the boot-jack,
+lacking which, no German or Polish bedroom is complete.
+
+When the bootmaker had gone, carrying the boots under his arm, the
+soldier, left to himself, made a grimace at the closed door.
+Without boots he was a prisoner in the house.  He could hear his
+host at work already, downstairs in the shop, of which the door
+opened to the stairs and allowed passage to that smell of leather
+which breeds Radical convictions.
+
+The regular "tap-tap" of the cobbler's hammer continued for an hour
+until dusk, and all the while the soldier lay dressed on his bed.
+Soon after, a creaking of the stairs told of the surreptitious
+approach of the unwilling host.  He listened outside, and even tried
+the door, but found it bolted.  The soldier, open-eyed on the bed,
+snored aloud.  At the sound of the key on the outside of the door he
+made a grimace again.  His features were very mobile, for Schleswig.
+
+He heard the bootmaker descend the stairs again almost noiselessly,
+and, rising from the bed, he took his station at the window.  All
+the Langgasse would seem to be eating-houses.  The basement, which
+has a separate door, gives forth odours of simple Pomeranian meats,
+and every other house bears to this day the curt but comforting
+inscription, "Here one eats."  It was only to be supposed that the
+bootmaker at the end of his day would repair for supper to some
+special haunt near by.
+
+But the smell of cooking mingling with that of leather told that he
+was preparing his own evening meal.  He was, it seemed, an
+unsociable man, who had but a son beneath his roof, and mostly lived
+alone.
+
+Seated near the window, where the sunset light yet lingered, the
+Schleswiger opened his haversack, which was well supplied, and
+finding paper, pens and ink, fell to writing with one eye watchful
+of the window and both ears listening for any movement in the room
+below.
+
+He wrote easily with a running pen, and sometimes he smiled as he
+wrote.  More than once he paused and looked across the Neuer Markt
+above the trees and the roofs, towards the western sky, with a
+sudden grave wistfulness.  He was thinking of some one in the west.
+It was assuredly not of war that this soldier wrote.  Then, again,
+his attention would be attracted to some passer in the street below.
+He only gave half of his attention to his letter.  He was, it
+seemed, a man who as yet touched life lightly; for he was quite
+young.  But, nevertheless, his pen, urged by only half a mind that
+had all the energy of spring, flew over the paper.  Sowing is so
+much easier than reaping.
+
+Suddenly he threw his pen aside and moved quickly to the window
+which stood open.  The shoemaker had gone out, closing the door
+softly behind him.
+
+It was to be expected that he would turn to the left, upwards
+towards the town and the Langgasse, but it was in the direction of
+the river that his footsteps died away.  There was no outlet on that
+side except by boat.
+
+It was almost dark now, and the trees growing close to the window
+obscured the view.  So eager was the lodger to follow the movements
+of his landlord that he crept in stocking-feet out on to the roof.
+By lying on his face below the window he could just distinguish the
+shadowy form of a lame man by the river edge.  He was moving to and
+fro, unchaining a boat moored to the steps, which are more used in
+winter when the Pregel is a frozen roadway than in summer.  There
+was no one else in the Neuer Markt, for it was the supper hour.
+
+Out in the middle of the river a few ships were moored:  high-
+prowed, square-sterned vessels of a Dutch build trading in the
+Frische Haaf and in the Baltic.
+
+The soldier saw the boat steal out towards them.  There was no other
+boat at the steps or in sight.  He stood up on the edge of the roof,
+and after carefully measuring his distance, with quick eyes aglow
+with excitement, he leapt lightly across the leafy space into the
+topmost boughs, where he alighted in a forked branch almost without
+sound.
+
+At dawn the next morning, while the shoemaker still slept, the
+soldier was astir again.  He shivered as he rose, and went to the
+window, where his clothes were hanging from a rafter.  The water was
+still dripping from them.  Wrapt in a blanket he sat down by the
+open window to write while the morning air should dry his clothes.
+
+That which he wrote was a long report--sheet after sheet closely
+written.  And in the middle of his work he broke off to read again
+the letter that he had written the night before.  With a quick,
+impulsive gesture he kissed the name it bore.  Then he turned to his
+work again.
+
+The sun was up before he folded the papers together.  By way of a
+postscript he wrote a brief letter.
+
+"DEAR C.--I have been fortunate, as you will see from the enclosed
+report.  His Majesty cannot again say that I have been neglectful.
+I was quite right.  It is Sebastian and only Sebastian that we need
+fear.  Here they are clumsy conspirators compared to him.  I have
+been in the river half the night listening at the open stern-window
+of a Reval pink to every word they said.  His Majesty can safely
+come to Konigsberg.  Indeed, he is better out of Dantzig.  For the
+whole country is riddled with that which they call patriotism, and
+we treason.  But I can only repeat what his Majesty disbelieved the
+day before yesterday--that the heart of the ill is Dantzig, and the
+venom of it Sebastian.  Who he really is and what he is about you
+must find out how you can.  I go forward to-day to Gumbinnen.  The
+enclosed letter to its address, I beg of you, if only in
+acknowledgment of all that I have sacrificed."
+
+The letter was unsigned, and bore the date, "Dawn, June 10."  This
+and the report, and that other letter (carefully sealed with a
+wafer) which did not deal with war or its alarms, were all placed in
+one large envelope.  He did not seal it, however, but sat thinking
+while the sun began to shine on the opposite houses.  Then he
+withdrew the open letter, and added a postscript to it:
+
+"If an attempt were made on N.'s life--I should say Sebastian.  If
+Prussia were to play us false suddenly, and cut us off from France--
+I should say nothing else than Sebastian.  He is more dangerous than
+a fanatic; for he is too clever to be one."
+
+The writer shivered and laughed in sheer amusement at his own misery
+as he drew on his wet clothes.  The shoemaker was already astir, and
+presently knocked at his door.
+
+"Yes, yes," the soldier cried, "I am astir."
+
+And as his host rattled the door he opened it.  He had unrolled his
+long cavalry cloak, and wore it over his wet clothes.
+
+"You never told me your name," said the shoemaker.  A suspicious man
+is always more suspicious at the beginning of the day.
+
+"My name," answered the other carelessly.  "Oh! my name is Max
+Brunner."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.  THE WAY OF LOVE.
+
+
+
+   Celui qui souffle le feu s'expose a etre brule par les
+etincelles.
+
+It was said that Colonel de Casimir--that guest whose presence and
+uniform lent an air of distinction to the quiet wedding in the
+Frauengasse--was a Pole from Cracow.  Men also whispered that he was
+in the confidence of the Emperor.  But this must only have been a
+manner of speaking.  For no man was ever admitted fully into the
+thoughts of that superhuman mind.
+
+De Casimir was left behind in Dantzig when the army moved forward.
+
+"There will be a great battle," he said, "somewhere near Vilna--and
+I shall miss it."
+
+Indeed, every man was striving to get to the front.  He who,
+himself, had given a new meaning to human ambition seemed able to
+inspire not only Frenchmen but soldiers of every nationality with
+fire from his own consuming flame.
+
+"Yes! madame," said de Casimir; for it was to Desiree that he spoke,
+"and your husband is more fortunate than I.  He is sure of a staff
+appointment.  He will be among the first.  It will soon be over.
+To-morrow war is to be declared."
+
+They were in the street--not far from the Frauengasse, whence
+Desiree, always practical, was hurrying towards the market-place.
+De Casimir had seemed idle until he perceived her.
+
+Desiree made a little movement of horror at the announcement.  She
+did not know that the fighting had already begun.
+
+"Ah!" cried de Casimir with a reassuring smile.  "You must be of
+good cheer.  There will be no war at all.  I tell you that in
+confidence.  Russia will be paralyzed.  I was going towards the
+Frauengasse when I perceived you; to pay my respects to your father,
+to say a word to you.  Come--you are smiling again.  That is right.
+You were so grave, madame, as you hurried along with your eyes
+looking far away.  You must not think of Charles, if the thoughts
+make you look as you looked then."
+
+His manner was kind and confidential and easy--inviting in response
+that which the confidential always expect, a return in kind.  It is
+either hit or miss with such people; and de Casimir missed.  He saw
+Desiree draw back.  She was young, and of that clear fairness of
+skin which seems to let the thoughts out through the face so that
+any can read them.  That which her face expressed at that moment was
+a clear and definite refusal to confide anything whatsoever in this
+little dark man who stood in front of her, looking into her eyes
+with a deferential and sympathetic glance.
+
+"I know for certain," he said, "that Charles was well two days ago,
+and that he is highly thought of in high quarters.  I can tell you
+that, at all events."
+
+"Thank you," said Desiree.  She had nothing against de Casimir.  She
+had only seen him once or twice, and she knew him to be Charles's
+friend, and in some sense his patron.  For de Casimir held a high
+position in Dantzig.  She was quite ready to like him since Charles
+liked him; but she intended to do so at her own range.  It is always
+the woman who measures the distance.
+
+Desiree made a little movement as if to continue on her way; and de
+Casimir instantly stood aside, with a bow.
+
+"Shall I find your father at home?" he asked.
+
+"I think so.  He was at home when I left," she answered, responding
+to his salute with a friendly nod.
+
+De Casimir watched her go and stood for a moment in reflection, as
+if going over in his mind that which had passed between them.
+
+"I must try the other one," he said to himself as he turned down the
+Pfaffengasse.  He continued his way at a leisurely pace.  At the
+corner of the Frauengasse he lingered in the shadow of the linden
+trees, and while so doing saw Antoine Sebastian quit the door of No.
+36, going in the opposite direction towards the river, and pass out
+through the Frauenthor on to the quay.
+
+He made a little gesture of annoyance on being told by the servant
+that Sebastian was out.  After a moment's reflection, he seemed to
+make up his mind to ignore the conventionalities.
+
+"It is merely," he said in his friendly and confidential manner to
+the servant, in perfect German, "that I have news from Monsieur
+Darragon, the husband of Mademoiselle Desiree.  Madame is out--you
+say.  Well, then, what is to be done?"
+
+He had a most charming, grave manner of asking advice which few
+could resist.
+
+The servant nodded at him with a twinkle of understanding in her
+eye.
+
+"There is Fraulein Mathilde."
+
+"But . . .  well, ask her if she will do me the honour of speaking
+to me for an instant.  I leave it to you . . . ."
+
+"But come in," protested the servant.  "Come upstairs.  She will see
+you; why not?"
+
+And she led the way upstairs.  Papa Barlasch, sitting just within
+the kitchen door, where he sat all day doing nothing, glanced
+upwards through his overhanging eyebrows at the clink of spurs and
+the clatter of de Casimir's sword against the banisters.  He had the
+air of a watchdog.
+
+Mathilde was not in the drawing-room, and the servant left the
+visitor there alone, saying that she would seek her mistress.  There
+were one or two books on the tables.  One table was rather untidy;
+it was Desiree's.  A writing-desk stood in the corner of the room.
+It was locked--and the lock was a good one.  De Casimir was an
+observant man.  He had time to make this observation, and to see
+that there were no letters in Desiree's work-basket; to note the
+titles of the books and the absence of name on the flyleaf, and was
+looking out of the window when the door opened and Mathilde came in.
+
+This was a day when women were treated with a great show of
+deference, while in reality they had but little voice in the world's
+affairs.  De Casimir's bow was deeper and more elaborate than would
+be considered polite to-day.  On standing erect he quickly
+suppressed a glance of surprise.
+
+Mathilde must have expected him.  She was dressed in white, and her
+hair was tied with a bright ribbon.  In her cheeks, usually so pale,
+was a little touch of colour.  It may have been because Desiree was
+not near, but de Casimir had never known until this moment how
+pretty Mathilde really was.  There was something in her eyes, too,
+which gripped his attention.  He remembered that at the wedding he
+had never seen her eyes.  They had always been averted.  But now
+they met his with a troubling directness.
+
+De Casimir had a gallant manner.  All women commanded his eager
+respect, which they could assess at such value as their fancy
+painted, remembering that it is for the woman to measure the
+distance.  On the few occasions of previous encounters, de Casimir
+had been empresse in his manner towards Mathilde.  As he looked at
+her, his quick mind ran back to former meetings.  He had no
+recollection of having actually made love to her.
+
+"Mademoiselle," he said, "for a soldier--in time of war--the
+conventions may, perhaps, be slightly relaxed.  I was told that you
+were alone--that your father is out, and yet I persisted--"
+
+He spread out his hands and laughed appealingly, begging her, it
+would seem, to help him out of the social difficulty in which he
+found himself.
+
+"My father will be sorry--" she began.
+
+"That is hardly the question," he interrupted; "I was thinking of
+your displeasure.  But I have an excuse, I assure you.  I only ask a
+moment to tell you that I have heard from Konigsberg that Charles
+Darragon is in good health there, and is moving forward with the
+advance-guard to the frontier."
+
+"You are kind to come so soon," answered Mathilde, and there was an
+odd note of disappointment in her voice.  De Casimir must have heard
+it, for he glanced at her again with a gleam of surprise in his
+eyes.
+
+"That is my excuse, Mademoiselle," he said with a tentative
+emphasis, as if he were feeling his way.  He was an opportunist with
+all the quickness of one who must live by his wits among others
+existing on the same uncertain fare.  He saw her flush, and again he
+hesitated as a wayfarer may hesitate when he finds an easy road
+where he had expected to climb a hill.  What was the meaning of it?
+he seemed to ask himself.
+
+"Charles does not interest you so much as he interests your sister?"
+he suggested.
+
+"He has never interested me much," she replied indifferently.  She
+did not ask him to sit down.  It would not have been etiquette in an
+age when women were by some odd misjudgment considered incapable of
+managing their own hearts.
+
+"Is that because he is in love, Mademoiselle?" inquired de Casimir
+with a guarded laugh.
+
+"Perhaps so."
+
+She did not look at him.  De Casimir had not missed this time.  His
+air of candid confidence had met with a quick response.  He laughed
+again and moved towards the door.  Mathilde stood motionless, and
+although she said no word, nor by any gesture bade him stay, he
+stopped on the threshold and turned again towards her.
+
+"It was my conscience," he said, looking at her over his shoulder,
+"that bade me go."
+
+Her face and her averted eyes asked why, but her straight lips were
+silent.
+
+"Because I cannot claim to be more interesting than Charles
+Darragon," he hazarded.  "And you, Mademoiselle, confess that you
+have no tolerance for a man who is in love."
+
+"I have no tolerance for a man who is weakened by love.  He should
+be strengthened and hardened by it."
+
+"To--?"
+
+"To do a man's work in the world," said Mathilde coldly.
+
+De Casimir was standing by the open door.  He closed it with his
+foot.  He was professedly a man alert for the chance of a moment,
+which he was content to grasp without pausing to look ahead.  Should
+there be difficulties yet unperceived, these in turn might present
+an opportunity to be seized by the quick-witted.
+
+"Then you would admit, Mademoiselle," he said gravely, "that there
+may be good in a love that fights continually against ambition, and-
+-does not prevail."
+
+Mathilde did not answer at once.  There was an odd suggestion of
+antagonism in their attitude towards each other--not irreconcilable,
+the poets tell us, with love--but this is assuredly not the Love
+that comes from Heaven and will go back there to live through
+eternity.
+
+"Yes," said she at length.
+
+"Such is my love for you," he said, his quick instinct telling him
+that with Mathilde few words were best.
+
+He only spoke the thoughts of his age; for ambition was the ruling
+passion in men's hearts at this time.  All who served the Great
+Adventurer gave it the first place in their consideration, and de
+Casimir only aped his betters.  Though oddly enough the only two of
+all the great leaders who were to emerge still greater from the
+coming war--Ney and Eugene--thought otherwise on these matters.
+
+"I mean to be great and rich, Mademoiselle," he added after a pause.
+"I have risked my life for that purpose half a dozen times."
+
+Mathilde stood looking across the room towards the window.  He could
+only see her profile and the straight line of her lips.  She too was
+the product of a generation in which men rose to dazzling heights
+without the aid of women.
+
+"I should not have troubled you with these details, Mademoiselle,"
+he said, watching her.  His instinct was very keen, for not one
+woman in a thousand, even in those days, would have admitted that
+love was a detail.  "I should not have mentioned it--had you not
+given me your views--so strangely in harmony with my own."
+
+Whatever his nationality, his voice was that of a Pole--rich,
+musical, and expressive.  He could have made, one would have
+thought, a very different sort of love had he wished, or had he been
+sincere.  But he was an opportunist.  This was the sort of love that
+Mathilde wanted.
+
+He came a step nearer to her and stood resting on his sword--a lean
+hard man who had seen much war.
+
+"Until you opened my eyes," he said, "I did not know, or did not
+care to know, that love, far from being a drag on ambition, may be a
+help."
+
+Mathilde made a little movement towards him which she instantly
+repressed.  The heart is quicker, but the head nearly always has the
+last word.
+
+"Mademoiselle," he said--and no doubt he saw the movement and the
+restraint--"will you help me now at the beginning of the war, and
+listen to me again at the end of it--if I succeed?"
+
+After all, he was modest in his demands.
+
+"Will you help me?  Together, Mademoiselle--to what height may we
+not rise in these days?"
+
+There was a ring of sincerity in his voice, and her eyes answered
+it.
+
+"How can I help you?" she asked in a doubting voice.
+
+"Oh, it is a small matter," was the reply.  "But it is one in which
+the Emperor is personally interested.  Such things have a special
+attraction for him.  The human interest never fails to hold his
+attention.  If I do well, he will know it and remember me.  It is a
+question, Mademoiselle, of secret societies.  You know that Prussia
+is riddled with them."
+
+Mathilde did not answer.  He studied her face, which was clean cut
+and hard like a marble bust--a good face to hide a secret.
+
+"It is my duty to watch here in Dantzig and to report to the
+Emperor.  In serving myself I could also perhaps serve a friend, one
+who might otherwise run into danger--who may be in danger while you
+and I stand here.  For the Emperor strikes hard and quickly.  I
+speak of your father, Mademoiselle--and of the Tugendbund."
+
+Still he could not see from the pale profile whether Mathilde knew
+anything at all.
+
+"And if I procure information for you?" asked she at length, in a
+quiet and collected voice.
+
+"You will help me to attain a position such as I could ask--even
+you--to share with me.  And you would do your father no harm.  You
+would even render him a service.  For all the secret societies in
+Germany will not stop Napoleon.  It is only God who can stop him
+now, Mademoiselle.  All men who attempt it will only be crushed
+beneath the wheels.  I might save your father."
+
+But Mathilde did not seem to be thinking of her father.
+
+"I am hampered by poverty," de Casimir said, changing his ground.
+"In the old days it did not matter.  But now, in the Empire, one
+must be rich.  I shall be rich--at the end of this campaign."
+
+Again his voice was sincere, and again her eyes responded.  He made
+a step forward, and gently taking her hand, he raised it to his
+lips.
+
+"You will help me!" he said, and, turning abruptly on his heel, he
+left her.
+
+De Casimir's quarters were in the Langenmarkt.  On returning to
+them, he took from his despatch-case a letter which he turned over
+thoughtfully in his hand.  It was addressed to Desiree, and sealed
+carefully with a wafer.
+
+"She may as well have it," he said.  "It will be as well that she
+should be occupied with her own affairs."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.  A VISITATION.
+
+
+
+     Be wiser than other people if you can, but do not tell them so.
+
+Whenever Papa Barlasch caught sight of his unwilling host's face, he
+turned his own aside with a despairing upward nod.  Once or twice,
+during the early days of his occupation of the room behind the
+kitchen in the Frauengasse, he smote himself sharply on the brow, as
+if calling upon his brain to make an effort.  But afterwards he
+seemed to resign himself to this lapse of memory, and the upward
+despairing nod gradually lost intensity until at last he brought
+himself to pass Antoine Sebastian in the narrow passage with no more
+emphatic notice than a scowl.
+
+"You and I," he said to Desiree, "are the friends.  The others--"
+
+And his gesture seemed to permit the others to go hang if they so
+desired.  The army had gone forward, leaving Dantzig in that idle
+restlessness which holds those who, finding themselves in a house of
+sickness, are not permitted entry to the darkened chamber, but must
+await the crisis elsewhere.
+
+There were some busy enough in the commerce that must exist between
+a huge army and its base, in the forwarding of war material and
+stores, in accommodating the sick and sending out in return those
+who were to fill the gaps.  But the Dantzigers themselves had
+nothing to do.  Their prosperous trade was paralyzed.  Those who had
+aught to sell had sold it.  The high-seas and the high-roads were
+alike blocked by the French.  And rumour, ever busy among those that
+wait, ran to and fro in the town.
+
+The Emperor of Russia had been taken prisoner.  Napoleon had been
+checked at the passage of the Niemen.  There had been a great battle
+at Gumbinnen, and the French were in full retreat.  Vilna had
+capitulated to Murat, and the war was at an end.  A hundred
+authentic despatches of the morning were the subject of contemptuous
+laughter at the supper-table.
+
+Lisa heard these tales in the market-place, and told Desiree, who,
+as often as not, translated them to Barlasch.  But he only held up
+his wrinkled forefinger and shook it slowly from side to side.
+
+"Woman's chatter!" he said.  "What is the German for 'magpie'?"
+
+And on being told the word, he repeated it gravely to Lisa.  For he
+had not only fulfilled his promise of settling down in the house,
+but had assumed therein a distinct and clearly defined position.  He
+was the counsellor, and from his chair just within the kitchen he
+gave forth judgment.
+
+"And you," he said to Desiree one morning, when household affairs
+had taken her to the kitchen, "you are troubled this morning.  You
+have had a letter from your husband?"
+
+"Yes--and he is in good health."
+
+"Ah!"
+
+Barlasch glared at her beneath his brows, looking her up and down,
+noting her quick movements, which had the uncertainty of youth.
+
+"And now that he is gone," he said, "and that there is war, you are
+going to employ yourself by falling in love with him, when you had
+all the time before, and did not take advantage of it."
+
+Desiree laughed at him and made no other answer.  While she spoke to
+Lisa he sat and watched them.
+
+"It would be like a woman to do such a thing," he pursued.  "They
+are so inconvenient--women.  They get married for fun, and then one
+fine Thursday they find they have missed all the fun, like one who
+comes late to the theatre--when the music is over."
+
+He went to the table and examined the morning marketing, which Lisa
+had laid out in preparation for dinner.  Of some of her purchases he
+approved, but he laughed aloud at a lettuce which had no heart, and
+at such a buyer.
+
+Then Desiree attracted his scrutiny again.
+
+"Yes," he said, half to himself, "I see it.  You are in love.  Just
+Heaven, I know!  I have had them in love with me . . . . Barlasch."
+
+"That must have been a long time ago," answered Desiree with her gay
+laugh, only giving him half her attention.
+
+"Yes, it was a century ago.  But they were the same then as they are
+now, as they always will be--inconvenient.  They waited, however,
+till they were grown up!"
+
+And with his ever-ready accusing finger he drew Desiree's attention
+to her own slimness.  They were left alone for a minute while Lisa
+answered a knock at the door, during which time Barlasch sat in grim
+silence.
+
+"It is a letter," said Lisa, returning.  "A sailor brought it."
+
+"Another?" said Barlasch, with a gesture of despair.
+
+"Can you give me news of Charles?" Desiree read, in a writing that
+was unknown to her.  "I shall wait a reply until midnight on board
+the Elsa, lying off the Krahn-Thor."  The letter bore the signature,
+"Louis d'Arragon."  Desiree turned slowly and went upstairs,
+carrying it folded small in her closed hand.
+
+She was alone in the house, for Mathilde was out and her father had
+not yet returned from his evening walk.  She stood at the head of
+the stairs, where the last of the daylight filtered through the
+barred window, and read the letter again.  Then she turned and gave
+a slight start to see Barlasch at the foot of the stairs beckoning
+to her.  He made no attempt to come up, but stood on the mat like a
+dog that has been forbidden the upper rooms.
+
+"Is it about your father?" he asked, in a hoarse whisper.
+
+"No!"
+
+He made a gesture commanding secrecy and silence.  Then he went to
+close the kitchen door and returned on tip-toe.
+
+"It is," he explained, "that they are talking of him in the cafes.
+There are many to be arrested to-morrow.  They say the patron is one
+of them, and employs himself in plotting.  That his name is not
+Sebastian at all.  That he is a Frenchman who escaped the
+guillotine.  What do I know?  It is the gossip of the cafes.  But I
+tell it you because we are friends, you and I.  And some day I may
+want you to do something for me.  One thinks of one's self, eh?  It
+is good to make friends.  For some day one may want them.  That is
+why I do it.  I think of myself.  An old soldier.  Of the Guard."
+
+With many gestures of tremendous import, and a face all wrinkled and
+twisted with mystery, he returned to the kitchen.
+
+Mathilde was not to return until late.  She had gone to the house of
+the old Grafin whose reminiscences had been a fruitful topic at
+Desiree's wedding.  After dining there she and the Grafin were to go
+together to a farewell reception given by the Governor.  For Rapp
+was bound for the frontier with the rest, and was to go to the war
+as first aide-de-camp to the Emperor.
+
+Mathilde could not be back until ten o'clock.  She, who was so quick
+and quiet, had been much occupied in social observances lately, and
+had made fast friends with the Grafin during the last few days,
+constantly going to see her.
+
+Desiree knew that what Barlasch had repeated as the gossip of the
+cafes was in part, if not wholly, true.  She and Mathilde had long
+known that any mention of France had the instant effect of turning
+their father into a man of stone.  It was the skeleton in this quiet
+house that sat at table with its inmates, a shadowy fourth tying
+their tongues.  The rattle of its bones seemed to paralyze
+Sebastian's mind, and at any moment he would fall into a dumb and
+stricken apathy which terrified those about him.  At such times it
+seemed that one thought in his mind had swallowed all the rest, so
+that he heard without understanding and saw without perceiving.
+
+He was in such a humour when he came back to dinner.  He passed
+Desiree on the stairs without speaking and went to his room to
+change his clothes, for he never relaxed his formal habits.  At the
+dinner-table he glanced at her as a dog, knowing that he is ill, may
+be seen to glance with a secret air at his master, wondering whether
+he is detected.
+
+Desiree had always hoped that her father would speak to her when
+this humour was upon him and tell her the meaning of it.  Perhaps it
+would come to-night, when they were alone.  There was an unspoken
+sympathy existing between them in which Mathilde took no share,
+which had even shut out Charles as out of a room where there was no
+light, into which Desiree and her father went at times and stood
+hand-in-hand without speaking.
+
+They dined in silence, while Lisa hurried about her duties,
+oppressed by a sense of unknown fear.  After dinner they went to the
+drawing-room as usual.  It had been a dull day, with great clouds
+creeping up from the West.  The evening fell early, and the lamps
+were already alight.  Desiree looked to the wicks with the eye of
+experience when she entered the room.  Then she went to the window.
+Lisa did not always draw the curtains effectually.  She glanced down
+into the street, and turned suddenly on her heel, facing her father.
+
+"They are there," she said.  For she had seen shadowy forms lurking
+beneath the trees of the Frauengasse.  The street was ill-lighted,
+but she knew the shadows of the trees.
+
+"How many?" asked Sebastian, in a dull voice.
+
+She glanced at him quickly--at his still, frozen face and quiescent
+hands.  He was not going to rise to the occasion, as he sometimes
+did even from his deepest apathy.  She must do alone anything that
+was to be accomplished to-night.
+
+The house, like many in the Frauengasse, had been built by a careful
+Hanseatic merchant, whose warehouse was his own cellar half sunk
+beneath the level of the street.  The door of the warehouse was
+immediately under the front door, down a few steps below the street,
+while a few more steps, broad and footworn, led up to the stone
+veranda and the level of the lower dwelling-rooms.  A guard placed
+in the street could thus watch both doors without moving.
+
+There was a third door, giving exit from the little room where
+Barlasch slept to the small yard where he had placed those trunks
+which were made in France.
+
+Desiree had no time to think.  She came of a race of women of a
+brighter intelligence than any women in the world.  She took her
+father by the arm and hastened downstairs.  Barlasch was at his post
+within the kitchen door.  His eyes shone suddenly as he saw her
+face.  It was said of Papa Barlasch that he was a gay man in battle,
+laughing and making a hundred jests, but at other times lugubrious.
+Desiree saw him smile for the first time, in the dim light of the
+passage.
+
+"They are there in the street," he said; "I have seen them.  I
+thought you would come to Barlasch.  They all do--the women.  In
+here.  Leave him to me.  When they ring the bell, receive them
+yourself--with smiles.  They are only men.  Let them search the
+house if they want to.  Tell them he has gone to the reception with
+Mademoiselle."
+
+As he spoke the bell rang just above his head.  He looked up at it
+and laughed.
+
+"Ah, ah!" he said, "the fanfare begins."
+
+He drew Sebastian within and closed the door of his little room.
+Lisa had already gone to answer the bell.  When she opened the door
+three men stepped quickly over the threshold, and one of them,
+thrusting her aside, closed the door and turned the key.  Desiree,
+in her white evening dress, on the bottom step, just beneath the
+lamp that hung from the ceiling, made them pause and look at each
+other.  Then one of the three came towards her, hat in hand.
+
+"Our duty, Fraulein," he said awkwardly.  "We are but obeying
+orders.  A mere formality.  It will all be explained, no doubt, if
+the householder, Antoine Sebastian, will put on his hat and come
+with us."
+
+"His hat is not there, as you see," answered Desiree.  "You must
+seek him elsewhere."
+
+The man shook his head with a knowing smile.  "We must seek him in
+this house," he said.  "We will make it as easy for you as we can,
+Fraulein--if you make it easy for us."
+
+As he spoke he produced a candle from his pocket, and encouraged the
+broken wick with his finger-nail.
+
+"It will make it pleasanter for all," said Desiree cheerfully, "if
+you will accept a candlestick."
+
+The man glanced at her.  He was a heavy man, with little suspicious
+eyes set close together.  He seemed to be concluding that she had
+outwitted him--that Sebastian was not in the house.
+
+"Where are the cellar-stairs?" he asked.  "I warn you, Fraulein, it
+is useless to conceal your father.  We shall, of course, find him."
+
+Desiree pointed to the door next to that giving entry to the
+kitchen.  It was bolted and locked.  Desiree found the key for them.
+She not only gave them every facility, but was anxious that they
+should be as quick as possible.  They did not linger in the cellar,
+which, though vast, was empty; and when they returned, Desiree, who
+was waiting for them, led the way upstairs.
+
+They were rather abashed by her silence.  They would have preferred
+protestations and argument.  Discussion always belittles.  The smile
+recommended by Papa Barlasch, lurking at the corner of her lips,
+made them feel foolish.  She was so slight and young and helpless,
+that a sort of shame rendered them clumsy.
+
+They felt more at home in the kitchen when they arrived there, and
+the sight of Lisa, sturdy and defiant, reminded them of the
+authority upon which Desiree had somehow cast a mystic contempt.
+
+"There is a door there," said the heavy official, with a brusque
+return of his early manner.  "Come, what is that door?"
+
+"That is a little room."
+
+"Then open it."
+
+"I cannot," returned Lisa.  "It is locked."
+
+"Aha!" said the man, with a laugh of much meaning.  "On the inside,
+eh?"
+
+He went to it, and banged on it with his fist.
+
+"Come," he shouted, "open it and be done."
+
+There was a short silence, during which those in the kitchen
+listened breathlessly.  A shuffling sound inside the door made the
+officer of the law turn and beckon to his two men to come closer.
+
+Then, after some fumbling, as of one in the dark, the door was
+unlocked and slowly opened.
+
+Papa Barlasch stood in a very primitive night-apparel within the
+door.  He had not done things by halves, for he was an old
+campaigner, and knew that a thing half done is better left undone in
+times of war.  He noted the presence of Desiree and Lisa, but was
+not ashamed.  The reason of it was soon apparent.  For Papa Barlasch
+was drunk, and the smell of drink came out of his apartment in a
+warm wave.
+
+"It is the soldier billeted in the house," explained Lisa, with a
+half-hysterical laugh.
+
+Then Barlasch harangued them in the language of intoxication.  If he
+had not spared Desiree's feelings, he spared her ears less now; for
+he was an ignorant man, who had lived through a brutal period in the
+world's history the roughest life a man can lead.  Two of the men
+held him with difficulty against the wall, while the third hastily
+searched the room--where, indeed, no one could well be concealed.
+
+Then they quitted the house, followed by the polyglot curses of
+Barlasch, who was now endeavouring to find his bayonet amidst his
+chaotic possessions.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.  THE GOLDEN GUESS.
+
+
+
+                              The golden guess
+     Is morning star to the full round of truth.
+
+Barlasch was never more sober in his life than when he emerged a
+minute later from his room, while Lisa was still feverishly bolting
+the door.  He had not wasted much time at his toilet.  In his
+flannel shirt, his arms bare to the elbow, knotted and muscular, he
+looked like some rude son of toil.
+
+"One thinks of one's self," he hastened to explain to Desiree,
+fearing that she might ascribe some other motive to his action.
+"Some day the patron may be in power again, and then he will
+remember a poor soldier.  It is good to think of the future."
+
+He shook his head pessimistically at Lisa as belonging to a sex
+liable to error:  instanced in this case by bolting the door too
+eagerly.
+
+"Now," he said, turning to Desiree again, "have you any in Dantzig
+to help you?"
+
+"Yes," she answered rather slowly.
+
+"Then send for him."
+
+"I cannot do that."
+
+"Then go for him yourself," snapped Barlasch impatiently.
+
+He looked at her fiercely beneath his shaggy eyebrows.
+
+"It is no use to be afraid," he said; "you are afraid--I see it in
+your face.  And it is never any use.  Before they hammered on that
+door there, my legs shook.  For I am easily afraid--I.  But it is
+never any use.  And when one opens the door, it goes."
+
+He looked at her with a puzzled frown, seeking in vain, it may have
+been, the ordinary symptoms of fear.  She was hesitating but not
+afraid.  There ran blood in her veins which will for all time be
+associated by history with a gay and indomitable courage.
+
+"Come," he said sharply; "there is nothing else to do."
+
+"I will go," said Desiree, at length, deciding suddenly to do the
+one thing that is left to a woman once or twice in her life--to go
+to the one man and trust him.
+
+"By the back way," said Barlasch, helping her with the cloak that
+Lisa had brought, and pulling the hood forward over her face with a
+jerk.  "Ah, I know that way.  The patron is hiding in the yard.  An
+old soldier looks to the retreat--though the Emperor has saved us
+that, so far.  Come, I will help you over the wall, for the door is
+rusted."
+
+The way, which Barlasch had perceived, led through the room at the
+back of the kitchen to a yard, and thence through a door not opened
+by the present occupiers of the old house, into a very labyrinth of
+narrow alleys running downward to the river and round the tall
+houses that stand against the cathedral walls.
+
+The wall was taller than Barlasch, but he ran at it like a cat, and
+Desiree standing below could see the black outline of his limbs
+crouching on the top.  He stooped down, and grasping her hands,
+lifted her by the sheer strength of one arm, balanced her for an
+instant on the wall, and then lowered her on the outer side.
+
+"Run," he whispered.
+
+She knew the way, and although the night was dark, and these narrow
+alleys between high walls had no lamps, Desiree lost no time.  The
+Krahn-Thor is quite near to the Frauengasse.  Indeed, the whole of
+Dantzig occupied but a small space between the rivers in those
+straitened days.  The town was quieter than it had been for months,
+and Desiree passed unmolested through the narrow streets.  She made
+her way to the quay, passing through the low gateway known as the
+door of the Holy Ghost, and here found people still astir.  For the
+commerce that thrives on a northern river is paralyzed all the
+winter, and feverishly active when the ice has gone.
+
+"The Elsa," replied a woman, who had been selling bread all day on
+the quay, and was now packing up her stall, "you ask for the Elsa.
+There is such a ship, I know.  But how can I say which she is?  See,
+they lie right across the river like a bridge.  Besides, it is late,
+and sailors are rough men."
+
+Desiree hurried on.  Louis d'Arragon had said that the ship was
+lying near to the Krahn-Thor, of which the great hooded roof loomed
+darkly against the stars above her.  She was looking about her when
+a man came forward with the hesitating step of one who has been told
+to wait the arrival of some one unknown to him.
+
+"The Elsa," she said to him; "which ship is it?"
+
+"Come along with me, Mademoiselle," the man replied; "though I was
+not told to look for a woman."
+
+He spoke in English, which Desiree hardly understood; for she had
+never heard it from English lips, and looked for the first time on
+one of that race upon which all the world waited now for salvation.
+For the English, of all the nations, were the only men who from the
+first had consistently defied Napoleon.
+
+The sailor led the way towards the river.  As he passed the lamp
+burning dimly above some steps, Desiree saw that he was little more
+than a boy.  He turned and offered her his hand with a shy laugh,
+and together they stood at the bottom of the steps with the water
+lapping at their feet.
+
+"Have you a letter," he said, "or will you come on board?"
+
+Then perceiving that she did not understand, he repeated the
+question in German.
+
+"I will come on board," she answered.
+
+The Elsa was lying in the middle of the river, and the boat into
+which Desiree stepped shot across the water without sound of oars.
+The sailor was paddling it noiselessly at the stern.  Desiree was
+not unused to boats, and when they came alongside the Elsa she
+climbed on board without help.
+
+"This way," said the sailor, leading her towards the deckhouse where
+a light burned dimly behind red curtains.  He knocked at the door
+and opened it without awaiting a reply.  In the little cabin two men
+sat at a table, and one of them was Louis d'Arragon dressed in the
+rough clothes of a merchant seaman.  He seemed to recognize Desiree
+at once, though she still stood without the door, in the darkness.
+
+"You?" he said in surprise.  "I did not expect you, madame.  You
+want me?"
+
+"Yes," answered Desiree, stepping over the combing.  Louis's
+companion, who was also a sailor, coarsely clad, rose and, awkwardly
+taking off his cap, hurried to the door, murmuring some vague
+apology.  It is not always the roughest men who have the worst
+manners towards women.
+
+He closed the door behind him, leaving Desiree and Louis looking at
+each other by the light of an oil lamp that flickered and gave forth
+a greasy smell.  The little cabin was smoke-ridden, and smelt of
+ancient tar.  It was no bigger than the table in the drawing-room in
+the Frauengasse, across which he had bowed to her in farewell a few
+days earlier, little knowing when and where they were to meet again.
+For fate can always turn a surprise better than the human fancy.
+
+Behind the curtain, the window stood open, and the high, clear song
+of the wind through the rigging filled the little cabin with a
+continuous minor note of warning which must have been part of his
+life; for he must have heard it, as all sailors do, sleeping or
+waking, night and day.
+
+He was probably so accustomed to it that he never heeded it.  But it
+filled Desiree's ears, and whenever she heard it in after-life, in
+memory this moment came again to her, and she looked back to it, as
+a traveller may look back to a milestone at a cross-road, and wonder
+where his journey might have ended had he taken another turning.
+
+"My father," she said quickly, "is in danger.  There is no one else
+in Dantzig to whom we can turn, and--"
+
+She paused.  What was she going to add?  She hesitated, and then was
+silent.  There was no reason why she should have elected to come to
+him.  At all events she gave none.
+
+"I am glad I was in Dantzig when it happened," he said, turning to
+take up his cap, which was of rough dark fur, such as seamen wear
+even in summer at night in the Northern seas.
+
+"Come," he added, "you can tell me as we go ashore."
+
+But they did not speak while the sailor sculled the boat to the
+steps.  On the quay they would probably pass unnoticed, for there
+were many strange sailors at this time in Dantzig, and Louis
+d'Arragon might easily be mistaken for one of the French seamen who
+had brought stores by sea from Bordeaux and Brest and Cherbourg.
+
+"Now tell me," he said, as they walked side by side; and in voluble
+French, Desiree launched into her story.  It was rather incoherent,
+by reason, perhaps, of its frankness.
+
+"Stop--stop," he interrupted gravely, "who is Barlasch?"
+
+Louis walked rather slowly in his stiff sea-boots at her side, and
+she instinctively spoke less rapidly as she explained the part that
+Barlasch had played.
+
+"And you trust him?"
+
+"Of course," she answered.
+
+"But why?"
+
+"Oh, you are so matter-of-fact," she exclaimed; "I do not know.
+Because he is trustworthy, I suppose."
+
+She continued the story, but suddenly stopped and looked up at him
+under the shadow of her hood.
+
+"You are silent," she said.  "Do you know something about my father
+of which I am ignorant?  Is that it?"
+
+"No," he answered, "I am trying to follow--that is all.  You leave
+so much to my imagination."
+
+"But I have no time to explain things," she protested.  "Every
+moment is of value.  I will explain all those things some other
+time.  At this moment all I can think of is my father and the danger
+he is in.  If it had not been for Barlasch, he would have been in
+prison by now.  And as it is, the danger is only half averted.  For
+he, himself, is so little help.  All must be done for him.  He will
+do nothing for himself while this humour is upon him; you
+understand?"
+
+"Partly," he answered slowly.
+
+"Oh!" she exclaimed half-impatiently, "one sees that you are an
+Englishman."
+
+And she found time, even in her hurry, to laugh.  For she was young
+enough to float buoyant upon that sea of hope which ebbs in the
+course of years and leaves men stranded on the hard facts of life.
+
+"You forget," he said in self-defence.
+
+"I forget what?"
+
+"That a week ago I had never seen Dantzig, or your father, or your
+sister, or the Frauengasse.  A week ago I did not know that there
+was anybody called Sebastian in the world--and did not care."
+
+"Yes," she admitted thoughtfully, "I had forgotten that."
+
+And they walked on in silence, a long way, till they came to the
+Gate of the Holy Ghost.
+
+"But you can help him to escape?" she said at length, as if
+following the course of her own thoughts.
+
+"Yes," he answered, and that was all.
+
+They passed through the smaller streets in silence, and Desiree led
+the way into a narrow alley running between the street of the Holy
+Ghost and the Frauengasse.
+
+"There is the wall to be climbed," she said; but, as she spoke, the
+door giving exit to the alley was cautiously opened by Barlasch.
+
+"A little oil," he whispered, "and it was soon done."
+
+The yard was dark within, for there might be watchers at any of the
+windows above them in the pointed gables that made patterns against
+the star-lit sky.
+
+"All is well," said Barlasch; "those sons of dogs have not returned,
+and the patron is waiting in the kitchen, cloaked and ready for a
+journey.  He has collected himself--the patron."
+
+He led the way through his own room, which was dark, save for a
+shaft of lamp-light coming from the kitchen.  He looked back keenly
+at Louis d'Arragon.
+
+"Salut!" he growled, scowling at his boots.  "A sailor," he muttered
+after a pause.  "Good.  She has her wits at the top of the basket--
+that child."
+
+Desiree was throwing back her hood and looking at her father with a
+reassuring smile.
+
+"I have brought Monsieur d'Arragon," she said, "to help us."
+
+For Sebastian has not recognized the new-comer.  He now bowed in his
+stiff way, and began a formal apology, which D'Arragon cut short
+with a quick gesture.
+
+"It is the least I could do," he said, "in the absence of Charles.
+Have you money?"
+
+"Yes--a little."
+
+"You will require money and a few clothes.  I can get you a passage
+to Riga or to Helsingborg to-night.  From there you can communicate
+with your daughter.  Events will follow each other rapidly.  One
+never knows what a week may bring forth in time of war.  It may be
+safe for you to return soon.  Come, monsieur, we must go."
+
+Sebastian made a gesture with his outspread arms, half of
+protestation, half of acquiescence.  It was plain that he had no
+sympathy with these modern, hurried methods of meeting the
+emergencies of daily life.  A valise, packed and strapped, lay on
+the table.  D'Arragon weighed it in his hand, and then lifted it to
+his shoulder.
+
+"Come, monsieur," he repeated leading the way through Barlasch's
+room to the yard.  "And you," he added, addressing himself to that
+soldier, "shut the door behind us."
+
+With another gesture of protest Sebastian gathered his cloak round
+him and followed.  D'Arragon had taken Desiree so literally at her
+word that he allowed her father no time for hesitation, nor a moment
+to say farewell.
+
+She was alone in the kitchen before she had realized that they were
+going.  In a minute Barlasch returned.  She could hear him setting
+in order the room which had been hurriedly disorganized in order to
+open the door leading to the yard, where her father had concealed
+himself.  He was muttering to himself as he lifted the furniture.
+
+Coming back into the kitchen, he found Desiree standing where he had
+left her.  Glancing at her, he scratched his grey head in a plebeian
+way, and gave a little laugh.
+
+"Yes," he said, pointing to the spot where D'Arragon had stood.
+"That was a man, that you fetched to help us--a man.  It makes a
+difference when such as that goes out of the room--eh?"
+
+He busied himself in the kitchen, setting in order that which
+remained of the mise en scene of his violent reception of the secret
+police.  Suddenly he turned in his emphatic manner, and threw out
+his rugged forefinger to hold her attention.
+
+"If there had been some like that in Paris, there would have been no
+Revolution.  Za-za, za-za!" he concluded, imitating effectively the
+buzz of many voices in an assembly.  "Words and not deeds," Barlasch
+protested.  Whereas to-night, he clearly showed by two gestures,
+they had met a man of deeds.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.  IN DEEP WATER.
+
+
+
+     Le coeur humain est un abime qui trompe tous les calculs.
+
+It is to be presumed that Colonel de Casimir met friends at the
+reception given by Governor Rapp in the great rooms of the Rathhaus.
+For there were many Poles present, and not a few officers of other
+nationalities.
+
+The army indeed that set forth to conquer Russia was not a French-
+speaking army.  Less than half of the regiments were of that
+nationality, while Italians, Bavarians, Saxons, Wurtembergers,
+Westphalians, Prussians, Swiss, and Portuguese went gaily forward on
+the great venture.  There were soldiers from the numerous petty
+states of the German Confederation which acknowledged Napoleon as
+their protector, for the good reason that they could not protect
+themselves against him.  Finally, there were those Poles who had
+fought in Spain for Napoleon, hoping that in return he would some
+day set the ancient kingdom upon its feet among the nations.
+Already the whisperers pointed to Davoust as the future king of the
+new Poland.
+
+Many present at the farewell reception of the Governor carried a
+sword, though they were the merest civilians, plotting, counter-
+plotting, and whispering a hundred rumours.  Perhaps Rapp himself,
+speaking bluff French with a German accent, was as honest as any man
+in the room, though he lacked the polish of the Parisian and had not
+the subtlety of the Pole.  Rapp was not a shining light in these
+brilliant circles.  He was a Governor not for peace, but for war.
+His day was yet to come.
+
+Such men as de Casimir shrugged their supple shoulders at his simple
+talk.  They spoke of him half-contemptuously as of one who had had a
+thousand chances and had never taken them.  He was not even rich,
+and he had handled great sums of money.  He was only a General, and
+he had slept in the Emperor's tent--had had access to him in every
+humour.  He might do the same again in the coming campaign.  He was
+worth cultivating.  De Casimir and his like were full of smiles
+which in no wise deceived the shrewd Alsatian.
+
+Mathilde Sebastian was among the ladies to whom these brilliant
+warriors paid their uncouth compliments.  Perhaps de Casimir was
+aware that her measuring eyes followed him wherever he went.  He
+knew, at all events, that he could hold his own amid these
+adventurers, many of whom had risen from the ranks; while others,
+from remote northern States, had birth but no manners at all.  He
+was easy and gay, carrying lightly that subtle air of distinction
+which is vouchsafed to many Poles.
+
+"Here to-day, Mademoiselle, and gone to-morrow," he said.  "All
+these eager soldiers.  And who can tell which of us may return?"
+
+If he had expected Mathilde to flinch at this reminder of his
+calling, he was disappointed.  Her eyes were hard and bright.  She
+had had so few chances of moving amidst this splendour, of seeing
+close at hand the greatness which Napoleon shed around him as the
+sun its rays.  She was carried away by the spirit of the age.
+Anything was better, she felt, than obscurity.
+
+"And who can tell," whispered de Casimir with a careless and
+confident laugh, "which of us shall come back rich and great?"
+
+This brought the glance from her dark eyes for which his own lay
+waiting.  She was certainly beautiful, and wore the difficult dress
+of that day with assurance and grace.  She possessed something which
+the German ladies about her lacked; something which many suddenly
+lack when a Frenchwoman is near.
+
+His manner, half respectful, half triumphant, betrayed an
+understanding to which he did not refer in words.  She had bestowed
+some favour upon him--had acceded to some request.  He hoped for
+more.  He had overstepped some barrier.  She, who should have
+measured the distance, had allowed him to come too close.  The
+barriers of love are one-sided; there is no climbing back.
+
+"A hundred envious eyes are watching me," he said in an undertone as
+he passed on; "I dare not stay longer.  I am on duty to-night."
+
+She bowed and watched him go.  She was, it would seem, aware of that
+fallen barrier.  She had done nothing, had permitted nothing from
+weakness.  There was no weakness at all perhaps in Mathilde
+Sebastian.  She had the quiet manner of a skilled card-player with
+folded cards laid face down upon the table, who knows what is in her
+hand and is waiting for the foe to lead.
+
+De Casimir did not see her again.  In such a throng it would have
+been difficult to find her had he so desired.  But, as he had told
+her, he was on duty to-night.  There were to be a hundred arrests
+before dawn.  Many who were laughing and talking with the French
+officers to-night were already in the grasp of Napoleon's secret
+police, and would drive straight from the door of the Rathhaus to
+the town prison or to the old Watch-house in the Portchaisengasse.
+Others, moving through the great rooms with a high head, were
+already condemned out of their own bureaux and escritoires now being
+rifled by the Emperor's spies.
+
+The Emperor himself had given the order, before quitting Dantzig to
+take command of the maddest and greatest enterprise conceived by the
+mind of man.  There was nothing above the reach of his mind, it
+seemed, and nothing too low for him to bend down and touch.  Every
+detail had been considered by himself.  He was like a man who,
+having an open wound on his back, attends to it hurriedly before
+showing an undaunted face to the enemy.
+
+His inexorable finger had come down on the name of Antoine
+Sebastian, figuring on all the secret reports--first in many.
+
+"Who is this man?" he asked, and none could answer.
+
+He had gone to the frontier without awaiting the solution to the
+question.  Such was his method now.  He had so much to do that he
+could but skim the surface of his task.  For the human mind, though
+it be colossal, can only work within certain limits.  The greatest
+orator in the world can only move his immediate hearers.  Those
+beyond the inner circle catch a word here and there, and imagination
+supplies the rest or improves upon it.  But those in the farthest
+gallery hear nothing and see a little man gesticulating.
+
+De Casimir was not entrusted with the execution of the Emperor's
+orders.  As a member of General Rapp's staff, resident in Dantzig
+since the city's occupation by the French, he had been called upon
+to make exhaustive reports upon the feeling of the burghers.  There
+were many doubtful cases.  De Casimir did not pretend to be better
+than his fellows.  To some he had sold the benefit of the doubt.
+Some had paid willingly enough for their warning.  Others had put
+off the payment; for there were many Jews, then as now, in Dantzig;
+slow payers requiring something stronger than a threat to make them
+disburse.
+
+De Casimir therefore quitted the Rathhaus among the first to go, and
+walked through the busy streets to his rooms in the Langenmarkt,
+where he not only lived but had a small office to which orderlies
+and aides-de-camp came by day or night.  Two sentries kept guard on
+the pavement.  Since the spring, this office had been one of the
+busiest military posts in Dantzig.  Its doors were open at all
+hours, and in truth many of de Casimir's assistants preferred to
+transact their business in the dark.
+
+There might be some recalcitrant debtor driven by stress of
+circumstance to clear his conscience to-night.  It would be as well,
+de Casimir thought, to be at one's post.  Nor was he mistaken.
+Though it was only ten o'clock, two men were awaiting his return,
+and, their business despatched, de Casimir deemed it wise to send
+away his assistants.  Immediately after they had gone a woman came.
+She was half distracted with fear, and the tears ran down her pallid
+cheeks.  But she dried them at the mention of de Casimir's price,
+and fell to abusing him.
+
+"If your husband is innocent, there is all the more reason why he
+should be grateful to me for warning him," he said, with a smile.
+And at last the lady paid and went away.
+
+The town clocks had struck eleven before another footstep on the
+pavement made de Casimir raise his head.  He did not actually expect
+any one, but a certain surreptitiousness in the approach of this
+visitor, and the low knock on the door, made him suspect that this
+was grist for his mill.
+
+He opened the door and, seeing that it was a woman, stepped back.
+When she had entered, he closed the door while she stood watching
+him in the dark passage, beneath the shadow of her hood.  Knowing
+the value of such small details, he locked the door rather
+ostentatiously and dropped the key into his pocket.
+
+"And now, madame," he said reassuringly, as he followed his visitor
+into the room where a shaded lamp lighted his writing-table.  She
+threw back her hood, and it was Mathilde!  The surprise on de
+Casimir's face was genuine enough.  Romance could not have brought
+about this visit, nor love be its motive.
+
+"Something has happened," he said, looking at her doubtfully.
+
+"Where is my father?" was the reply.
+
+"Unless there has been some mistake," he answered glibly, "he is at
+home in bed."
+
+She smiled contemptuously into his innocent face.
+
+"There has been a mistake," she said; "they came to arrest him to-
+night."
+
+De Casimir made a gesture of anger and seemed to be mentally
+assigning a punishment to some blunderer.
+
+"And?" he asked, without looking at her.
+
+"And he escaped."
+
+"For the moment?"
+
+"No; he has left Dantzig."
+
+Something in her voice--the cold note of warning--made him glance
+uneasily at her.  This was not a woman to be deceived, and yet she
+was womanly enough to fear deception and to resent her own fears,
+visiting her anger on any who aroused them.  In the flash of an eye
+he understood her, and forestalled the words that were upon her
+lips.
+
+"And I promised that he should come to no harm--I know that," he
+said quickly.  "At first I thought that it must have been a blunder,
+but on reflection I am sure that it is not.  It is the Emperor.  He
+must have given the order for the arrest himself, behind my back.
+That is his way.  He trusts no one.  He deceives those nearest to
+him.  I made out the list of those to be arrested to-night, and your
+father's name was not on it.  Do you believe me?  Mademoiselle, do
+you believe me?"
+
+It was only natural in such a man to look for disbelief.  The air he
+breathed was infected by suspicion.  No deception was too small for
+the great man whom he served.  Mathilde made no answer.
+
+"You came here to accuse me of having deceived you," he said rather
+anxiously.  "Is that it?"
+
+She nodded without meeting his eyes.  It was not the truth.  She had
+come to hear his defence, hoping against hope that she might be able
+to believe him.
+
+"Mathilde," he asked slowly, "do you believe me?"
+
+He came a step nearer, looking down at her averted face, which was
+oddly white.  Then suddenly she turned, without a sound, without
+lifting her eyes--and was in his arms.  It seemed that she had done
+it against her will, and it took him by surprise.  He had thought
+that she was trying to attract his love because she believed in his
+capability to make his fortune like so many soldiers of France; that
+she was only playing a woman's subtle game.  And, after all, she was
+like the rest--a little cleverer, a little colder--but, like the
+rest.
+
+While his arms were still round her, his quick mind leapt forward to
+the future, wondering already to what end this would lead them.  For
+a moment he was taken aback.  He was over the last of those barriers
+which are so easy from the outside and unclimbable from within.  She
+had thrust into his hands a power greater than, for the moment, he
+knew how to wield.  It was characteristic of him to think first
+whither it would lead him, and next how he could turn it to good
+account.
+
+Some instinct told him that this was a different love from any that
+he had met before.  The same instinct made him understand that it
+was crying aloud to be convinced; and, oddly enough, he had told her
+the truth.
+
+"See," he said, "here is a copy of the list, and your father's name
+is not on it.  See, here is Napoleon's letter, expressing
+satisfaction with my work here and in Konigsberg, where I have been
+served by an agent of my own choosing.  Many have climbed to a
+throne with less than that letter for their first step.  See . . .
+!" he opened another drawer.  It was full of money.
+
+"See, again!" he said with a low laugh, and from an iron chest he
+took two or three bags which fell upon the table with the discreet
+unmistakable chink of gold.  "That is the Emperor's.  He trusts me,
+you see.  These bags are mine.  They are to be sent back to France
+before I follow the army to Russia.  What I have told you is true,
+you see."
+
+It was an odd way of wooing, but this man rarely made a mistake.
+There are many women who, like Mathilde Sebastian, are readier to
+love success than console failure.
+
+"See," he said, after a moment's hesitation, opening another drawer
+in his writing-table, "before I went away I had intended to ask you
+to remember me."
+
+As he spoke he drew a jewel-case from under some papers, and slowly
+opened it.  He had others like it in the drawer; for emergencies.
+
+"But I never hoped," he went on, "to have an opportunity of seeing
+you thus alone--to ask you never to forget me.  You permit me?"
+
+He clasped the diamonds round her throat, and they glittered on the
+poor, cheap dress, which was the best she had.  She looked down at
+them with a catching breath, and for an instant the glitter was
+reflected in her eyes.
+
+She had come asking for reassurance, and he gave her diamonds; which
+is an old tale told over and over again.  For in human love we have
+to accept not what we want, but what is given to us.
+
+"No one in Dantzig," he said, "is so glad to hear that your father
+has escaped as I am."
+
+And, with the glitter still lurking in her dark-grey eyes, she
+believed him.  He drew her cloak round her, and gently brought her
+hood over her hair.
+
+"I must take you home," he said tenderly, "without delay.  And as we
+go through the streets you must tell me how it happened, and how you
+were able to come to me."
+
+"Desiree was not asleep," she answered; "she was waiting for me to
+return, and told me at once.  Then she went to bed, and I waited
+until she was asleep.  It was she who managed the escape."
+
+De Casimir, who was locking the drawers of his writing-table,
+glanced up sharply.
+
+"Ah! but not alone?"
+
+"No--not alone.  I will tell you as we go through the streets."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.  THE WAVE MOVES ON.
+
+
+
+     La meme fermete qui sert a resister a l'amour sert aussi a le
+rendre violent et durable.
+
+It is only in war that the unexpected admittedly happens.  In love
+and other domestic calamities there is always a relative who knew it
+all the time.
+
+The news that Napoleon was in Vilna, hastily evacuated by the
+Russians in full retreat, came as a surprise and not to all as a
+pleasant one, in Dantzig.
+
+It was Papa Barlasch who brought the tidings to the Frauengasse, one
+hot afternoon in July.  He returned before his usual hour, and sent
+Lisa upstairs, with a message given in dumb show and interpreted by
+her into matter-of-fact German, that he must see the young ladies
+without delay.  Far back in the great days of the monarchy, Papa
+Barlasch must have been a little child in a peasant's hut on those
+Cotes du Nord where they breed a race of Frenchmen startlingly
+similar to the hereditary foe across the Channel, where to this day
+the men kick off their sabots at the door and hold that an honest
+labourer has no business under a roof except in stocking-feet and
+shirt-sleeves.
+
+Barlasch had never yet been upstairs in the Sebastians' house, and
+deemed it only respectful to the ladies to take off his boots on the
+mat, and prowl to the kitchen in coarse blue woollen stockings,
+carefully darned by himself, under the scornful immediate eye of
+Lisa.
+
+He was in the kitchen when Mathilde and Desiree, in obedience to his
+command, came downstairs.  The floor in one corner of the room was
+littered with his belongings; for he never used the table.  "He
+takes up no more room than a cat," Lisa once said of him.  "I never
+fall over him."
+
+"She leaves her greasy plates here and there," explained Barlasch in
+return.  "One must think of one's self and one's uniform."
+
+He was in his stocking-feet with unbuttoned tunic when the two girls
+came to him.
+
+"Ai, ai, ai," he said, imitating with his two hands the galloping of
+a horse.  "The Russians," he explained confidentially.
+
+"Has there been a battle?" asked Desiree.
+
+And Barlasch answered "Pooh!" not without contempt for the female
+understanding.
+
+"Then what is it?" she inquired.  "You must remember we are not
+soldiers--we do not understand those manoeuvres--ai, ai, like that."
+
+And she copied his gesture beneath his scowling contempt.
+
+"It is Vilna," he said.  "That is what it is.  Then it will be
+Smolensk, and then Moscow.  Ah, ah!  That little man!"
+
+He turned and took up his haversack.
+
+"And I--I have my route.  It is good-bye to the Frauengasse.  We
+have been friends.  I told you we should be.  It is good-bye to
+these ladies--and to that Lisa.  Look at her!"
+
+He pointed with his curved and derisive finger into Lisa's eyes.
+And in truth the tears were there.  Lisa was in heart and person
+that which is comprehensively called motherly.  She saw perhaps some
+pathos in the sight of this rugged man--worn by travel, bent with
+hardship and many wounds, past his work--shouldering his haversack
+and trudging off to the war.
+
+"The wave moves on," he said, making a gesture, and a sound
+illustrating that watery progress.  "And Dantzig will soon be
+forgotten.  You will be left in peace--but we go on to--"  He paused
+and shrugged his shoulders while attending to a strap.  "India or
+the devil," he concluded.
+
+"Colonel Casimir has gone," he added in what he took to be an aside
+to Mathilde.  Which made her wonder for a moment.  "I saw him depart
+with his staff soon after daybreak.  And the Emperor has forgotten
+Dantzig.  It is safe enough for the patron now.  You can write him a
+letter to tell him so.  Tell him that I said it was safe for him to
+return quietly here, and live in the Frauengasse--I, Barlasch."
+
+He was ready now, and, buttoning his tunic, he fixed the straps
+across his chest, looking from one to the other of the three women
+watching him, not without some appreciation of an audience.  Then he
+turned to Desiree, who had always been his friend, with whom he now
+considered that he had the soldier's bond of a peril passed through
+together.
+
+"The Emperor has forgotten Dantzig," he repeated, "and those against
+whom he had a grudge.  But he has also forgotten those who are in
+prison.  It is not good to be forgotten in prison.  Tell the patron
+that--to put it in his pipe and smoke it.  Some day he may remember
+an old soldier.  Ah, one thinks of one's self."
+
+And beneath his bushy brows he looked at her with a gleam of
+cunning.  He went to the door and, turning there, pointed the finger
+of scorn at Lisa, stout and tearful.  He gave a short laugh of a
+low-born contempt, and departed without further parley.
+
+On the doorstep he paused to put on his boots and button his
+gaiters, stooping clumsily with a groan beneath his burden of
+haversack and kit.  Desiree, who had had time to go upstairs to her
+bedroom, ran after him as he descended the steps.  She had her purse
+in her hand, and she thrust it into his, quickly and breathlessly.
+
+"If you take it," she said, "I shall know that we are friends."
+
+He took it ungraciously enough.  It was a silken thing with two
+small rings to keep the money in place, and he looked at it with a
+grimace, weighing it in his hand.  It was very light.
+
+"Money," he said.  "No, thank you.  To get drink with, and be
+degraded and sent to prison.  Not for me, madame.  No, thank you.
+One thinks of one's career."
+
+And with a gruff laugh of worldly wisdom he continued his way down
+the worn steps, never looking back at her as she stood in the
+sunlight watching him, with the purse in her hand.
+
+So in his old age Papa Barlasch was borne forward to the war on that
+human tide which flooded all Lithuania, and never ebbed again, but
+sank into the barren ground, and was no more seen.
+
+As the slow autumn approached, it became apparent that Dantzig no
+longer interested the watchers.  Vilna became the base of
+operations.  Smolensk fell, and, most wonderful of all, the Russians
+were retiring on Moscow.  Dantzig was no longer on the route.  For a
+time it was of the world forgotten, while, as Barlasch had
+predicted, free men continued at liberty, though their names had an
+evil savour, while innocent persons in prison were left to rot
+there.
+
+Desiree continued to receive letters from her husband, full of love
+and war.  For a long time he lingered at Konigsberg, hoping every
+day to be sent forward.  Then he followed Murat across the Niemen,
+and wrote of weary journeys over the rolling plains of Lithuania.
+
+Towards the end of July he mentioned curtly the arrival of de
+Casimir at head-quarters.
+
+"With him came a courier," wrote Charles, "bringing your dead
+letter.  I don't believe you love me as I love you.  At all events,
+you do not seem to tell me that you do so often as I want to tell
+you.  Tell me what you do and think every moment of the day . . . .
+. . "  And so on.  Charles seemed to write as easily as he talked,
+and had no difficulty in setting forth his feelings.  "The courier
+is in the saddle," he concluded.  "De Casimir tells me that I must
+finish.  Write and tell me everything.  How is Mathilde?  And your
+father?  Is he in good health?  How does he pass his day?  Does he
+still go out in the evening to his cafe?"
+
+This seemed to be an afterthought, suggested perhaps by conversation
+passing in the room in which he sat.
+
+The other exile, writing from Stockholm, was briefer in his
+communications.
+
+"I am well," wrote Antoine Sebastian, "and hope to arrive soon after
+you receive this.  Felix Meyer, the notary, has instructions to
+furnish you with money for household expenses."
+
+It would appear that Sebastian possessed other friends in Dantzig,
+who had kept him advised of all that passed in the city.
+
+For neither Mathilde nor Desiree had obeyed Barlasch's blunt order
+to write to their father.  They did not know whither he had fled,
+neither had they received any communication giving an address or a
+hint as to his future movements.  It would appear that the same
+direct and laconic mind which had carried out his escape deemed it
+wiser that those left behind should be in no position to furnish
+information.
+
+In fairness to Barlasch, Desiree had made little of that soldier's
+part in Sebastian's evasion, and Mathilde displayed small interest
+in such details.  She rather fastened, however, upon the assistance
+rendered by Louis d'Arragon.
+
+"Why did he do it?" she asked.
+
+"Oh, because I asked him," was the reply.
+
+"And why did you ask him?"
+
+"Who else was there to ask?" returned Desiree, which was indeed
+unanswerable.
+
+Perhaps the question had been suggested to her by de Casimir, who,
+on learning that Louis d'Arragon had helped her father to slip
+through the Emperor's fingers, had asked the same in his own
+characteristic way.
+
+"What could he hope to gain by doing it?" he had inquired as he
+walked by Mathilde's side, along the Pfaffengasse.  And he made
+other interrogations respecting D'Arragon which Mathilde was no more
+able to satisfy, as he accompanied her to the Frauengasse.
+
+Since that time the dancing-lessons had been resumed to the music of
+a hired fiddler, and Desiree had once more taken up her household
+task of making both ends meet.  She approached the difficulties as
+impetuously as ever, and danced the stout pupils round the room with
+undiminished energy.
+
+"It seems no good at all, your being married," said one of these
+breathlessly, while Desiree laughingly attended to her dishevelled
+hair.
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"Because you still make your own dresses and teach dancing," replied
+the pupil, with a quick sigh at the thought of some smart bursch in
+the Prussian contingent.
+
+"Ah, but Charles will return a colonel, and I shall bow to you in a
+silk dress from a chaise and pair--come, left foot first.  You are
+not so tired as you think you are."
+
+For those that are busy, time flies quickly enough.  And there is
+nothing more absorbing than keeping the wolf from the door, else
+assuredly the hungry thousands would find time to arise and rend the
+overfed few.
+
+August succeeded a hot July and brought with it Sebastian's curt
+letter.  Sebastian himself--that shadowy father--returned to his
+home a few hours later.  He was not alone, for a heavier step
+followed his into the passage, and Desiree, always quick to hear and
+see and act, coming to the head of the stairs, perceived her father
+looking upwards towards her, while his companion in rough sailor's
+clothes turned to lay aside the valise he had carried on his
+shoulder.
+
+Mathilde was close behind Desiree, and Sebastian kissed his
+daughters with that cold repression of manner which always suggested
+a strenuous past in which the emotions had been relinquished for
+ever as an indulgence unfit for a stern and hard-bitten age.
+
+"I took him away and now return him," said the sailor coming
+forward.  Desiree had always known that it was Louis, but Mathilde
+gave a little start at the sound of the neat clipping French in the
+mouth of an educated Frenchman so rarely heard in Dantzig--so rarely
+heard in all broad France to-day.
+
+"Yes--that is true," answered Sebastian, turning to him with a
+sudden change of manner.  There was that in voice and attitude which
+his hearers had never noted before, although Charles had often
+evoked something approaching it.  It seemed to indicate that, of all
+the people with whom they had seen their father hold intercourse,
+Louis d'Arragon was the only man who stood upon equality with him.
+
+"That is true--and at great risk to yourself," he said, not
+assigning, however, so great an importance to personal danger as men
+do in these careful days.  As he spoke, he took Louis by the arm and
+by a gesture invited him to precede him upstairs with a suggestion
+of camaraderie somewhat startling in one usually so cold and formal
+as Antoine Sebastian, the dancing-master of the Frauengasse.
+
+"I was writing to Charles," said Desiree to D'Arragon, when they
+reached the drawing-room, and, crossing to her own table, she set
+the papers in order there.  These consisted of a number of letters
+from her husband, read and re-read, it would appear.  And the answer
+to them, a clean sheet of paper bearing only the date and address,
+lay beneath her hand.
+
+"The courier leaves this evening," she said, with a queer ring of
+anxiety in her voice, as if she feared that for some reason or
+another she ran the risk of failing to despatch her letter.  She
+glanced at the clock, and stood, pen in hand, thinking of what she
+should write.
+
+"May I enclose a line?" asked Louis.  "It is not wise, perhaps, for
+me to address to him a letter--since I am on the other side.  It is
+a small matter of a heritage which he and I divide.  I have placed
+some money in a Dantzig bank for him.  He may require it when he
+returns."
+
+"Then you do not correspond with Charles?" said Mathilde, clearing a
+space for him on the larger table, and setting before him ink and
+pens and paper.
+
+"Thank you, Mademoiselle," he said, glancing at her with that light
+of interest in his dark eyes which she had ignited once before by a
+question on the only occasion that they had met.  He seemed to
+detect that she was more interested in him than her indifferent
+manner would appear to indicate.  "No, I am a bad correspondent.  If
+Charles and I, in our present circumstances, were to write to each
+other it could only lead to intrigue, for which I have no taste and
+Charles no capacity."
+
+"You seem to hint that Charles might have such a taste then," she
+said, with her quiet smile, as she moved away leaving him to write.
+
+"Charles has probably found out by this time," he answered with the
+bluntness which he claimed as a prerogative of his calling and
+nation, "that a soldier of Napoleon's who intrigues will make a
+better career than one who merely fights."
+
+He took up his pen and wrote with the absorption of one who has but
+little time and knows exactly what to say.  By chance he glanced
+towards Desiree, who sat at her own table near the window.  She was
+stroking her cheek with the feather of her pen, looking with puzzled
+eyes at the blank paper before her.  Each time D'Arragon dipped his
+pen he glanced at her, watching her.  And Mathilde, with her
+needlework, watched them both.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII.  FROM BORODINO.
+
+
+
+     However we brave it out, we men are a little breed.
+
+War is the gambling of kings.  Napoleon, the arch-gambler, from that
+Southern sea where men, lacking cards or dice and the money to buy
+either, will yet play a game of chance with the ten fingers that God
+gave them for another purpose--Napoleon had dealt a hand with every
+monarch in Europe before he met for the second time that Northern
+adversary of cool blood who knew the waiting game.
+
+It is only where the stakes are small that the leisurely players,
+idly fingering the fallen cards, return in fancy to certain points--
+to this trick trumped or that chance missed, playing the game over
+again.  But when the result is great it overshadows the game, and
+all men's thoughts fly to speculation on the future.  How will the
+loser meet his loss?  What use will the winner make of his gain?
+
+The results of the Russian campaign were so stupendous to history
+that the historians of the day, in their bewilderment, sought rather
+to preserve these than the details of the war.  Thus the student of
+to-day, in piecing together an impression of bygone times, will
+inevitably find portions of his picture missing.  As a matter of
+fact, no one can say for certain whether Alexander gently led
+Napoleon onward to Moscow or was himself driven thither in confusion
+by the conqueror.
+
+Perhaps each merely pushed on from day to day, as men who are not
+Emperors must needs do in the stress of life.  It is only in calm
+weather that the eye is able to discern things afar off and make
+ready; but in a storm the horizon is dimmed by cloud and spray.  All
+Europe was so obscured at this time.  And even Emperors, being only
+men, could look no farther than the immediate and urgent danger of
+the moment.
+
+Napoleon's generals were scarcely social lights.  Ney, the hero of
+the retreat, the bravest of the brave, was a rough man who ate
+horseflesh without troubling to cook it.  Rapp, whose dogged defence
+of an abandoned city is without compare in the story of war, had the
+manners and the mind of a peasant.  These gentlemen dealt more in
+deeds than in words.  They had not much to say for themselves.
+
+As for the Russians, Russia remains at this time the one European
+country unhampered and unharassed by a cheap press--the one country
+where prominent men have a quiet tongue.  A hundred years ago
+Russians did great deeds, and the rest was silence.  Neither
+Kutusoff nor Alexander ever stated clearly whether the retreat to
+Moscow was intentional or unavoidable; and these are the only men
+who knew.  Perhaps Napoleon knew; at all events, he thought he did,
+or pretended to think it long afterwards at St. Helena, for Napoleon
+the Great was a consummate liar.
+
+Be that as it may, the Russians retreated, and the French advanced
+farther and farther from their base.  It was a great army--the
+greatest ever seen.  For Napoleon had eight monarchs serving with
+the eagles; generals innumerable, many of them immortal--Davoust,
+the greatest strategist; Prince Eugene, the incomparable lieutenant;
+Ney, the fearless; four hundred thousand men.  And they carried with
+them only twenty days' provision.
+
+They had marched from the Vistula, full of shipping, across the
+Pregel, loaded with stores, to the Niemen, where there was no
+navigation.  Dantzig, behind them--that Gibraltar of the North--was
+stored with provision enough for the whole army.  But there was no
+transport; for the roads of Lithuania were unsuitable for the heavy
+carts provided.
+
+The country across the Niemen could scarce sustain its own sparse
+population, and had nothing to spare for an invading army.  This had
+once been Poland, and was now inimical to Russia; but Russia did not
+care, and the friendship of Lithuania was like many human
+friendships which we make sacrifices to preserve--not worth having.
+
+All the while the Russians retreated, and, stranger still, the
+French followed them, eking out their twenty days' provision.
+
+"I will make them fight a big battle, and beat them," said Napoleon;
+"and then the Emperor will sue for peace."
+
+But Barclay de Tolly continued to run away from that great battle.
+Then came the news that Barclay had been deposed; that Kutusoff was
+coming from the South to take command.  It was true enough; and
+Barclay cheerfully served in a subordinate position to the new
+chief.  September brought great hopes of a battle, for Kutusoff
+seemed to retreat with less despatch, like a man choosing his
+ground--Kutusoff, that master of the waiting game.
+
+Early in September Murat, the impetuous leader of the pursuit,
+complained to Nansouty that a cavalry charge had not been pushed
+home.
+
+"The horses have no patriotism," replied Nansouty.  "The men will
+fight on empty stomachs, but not the horses."
+
+An ominous reply at the beginning of a campaign, while
+communications were still open.
+
+At last, within a few days' march of Moscow, Kutusoff made a stand.
+At last the great battle was imminent, after a hundred false alarms,
+after many disappointed hopes.  The country had been flat hitherto.
+The Borodino, running in a wider valley than many of these rivers,
+which are merely great ditches, seemed to offer possibilities of
+defence.  It was the only hope for Moscow.
+
+"At last," wrote Charles to Desiree on September 6, "we are to have
+a great battle.  There has been much fighting the last few days, but
+I have seen none of it.  We are only eighty miles from Moscow.  If
+there is a great battle to-morrow we shall see Moscow in less than a
+week.  For we shall win.  I have now found out from one who is near
+him that the Emperor saw and remembered me the day he passed us in
+the Frauengasse--our wedding-day, dearest.  Nobody is too
+insignificant for him to know.  He thought that my marriage to you
+(for he knows that you are French) would militate against the work I
+had been given to do in Dantzig, so he gave orders for me to be sent
+at once to Konigsberg and to continue the work there.  De Casimir
+tells me that the Emperor is pleased with me.  De Casimir is the
+best friend I have; I am sure of that.  It is said that under the
+walls of Moscow the Emperor will dictate his terms to Alexander.
+Every one wonders that Alexander of Russia did not make proposals of
+peace when Vilna and Smolensk fell.  In a week we may be at Moscow.
+In a month I may be back at Dantzig, Desiree . . . . "
+
+And the rest would have been for Desiree's eyes alone, had it ever
+been penned.  For next in sacredness to heaven-inspired words are
+mere human love letters; and those who read the love-letters of
+another commit a sacrilege.  But Charles never finished the letter,
+for the dawn surprised him where he wrote in a shed by the miserable
+Kalugha, a streamlet running to the Moskwa.  And it was the dawn of
+September 7, 1812.
+
+"There is the sun of Austerlitz," said Napoleon to those who were
+near him when it arose.  But it was not.  It was the sun of
+Borodino.  And before it set the great battle desired by the French
+had been fought, and eight French generals lay dead, while thirty
+more were wounded.  Murat, Davoust, Ney, Junot, Prince Eugene,
+Napoleon himself--all were there; and all fought to finish a war
+which from the first had been disliked.  The French claimed it as a
+victory; but they gained nothing by it, and they lost forty thousand
+killed and wounded.
+
+During the night the Russians evacuated the position which they had
+held, and lost, and retaken.  They retreated towards Moscow, but
+Napoleon was hardly ready to pursue.
+
+These things, however, are history, and those who wish to know of
+them may read them in another volume.  While to the many orderly
+persons who would wish to see everything in its place and the
+history-books on the top shelf to be taken down and read on a future
+day (which will never come), to such the explanation is due that
+this battle of Borodino is here touched upon because it changed the
+current of some lives with which we have to deal.
+
+For battles and revolutions and historical events of any sort are
+the jagged instruments with which Fate rough-hews our lives, leaving
+us to shape them as we will.  In other days, no doubt, men rough-
+hewed, while Fate shaped.  But as civilization advances men will wax
+so tender, so careful of the individual, that they will never cut
+and slash, but move softly, very tolerant, very easy-going, seeking
+the compromise that brings peace and breeds a small and timid race
+of men.
+
+Into such lives Fate comes crashing like a woodman with his axe,
+leaving us to smooth the edges of the gaping wound and smile, and
+say that we are not hurt; to pare away the knots and broken stumps;
+and hope that our neighbour, concealing such himself, will have the
+decency to pretend not to see.
+
+Thus the battle of Borodino crashed into the lives of Desiree and
+Mathilde, and their father, living quietly on the sunny side of the
+Frauengasse in Dantzig.  Antoine Sebastian was the first to hear the
+news.  He had, it seemed, special facilities for learning news at
+the Weissen Ross'l, whither he went again now in the evening.
+
+"There has been a great battle," he said, with so much more than his
+usual self-restraint that Desiree and Mathilde exchanged a glance of
+anxiety.  "A man coming this evening from Dirschau saw and spoke
+with the Imperial couriers on their way to Berlin and Paris.  It was
+a great victory, quite near to Moscow.  But the loss on both sides
+has been terrible."
+
+He paused and glanced at Desiree.  It was his creed that good blood
+should show an example of self-restraint and a certain steadfast,
+indifferent courage.
+
+"Not so much among the French," he said, "as among the Bavarians and
+Italians.  It is an odd way of showing patriotism, to gain victories
+for the conqueror.  One hoped--" he paused and made a gesture with
+his right hand, scarcely indicative of a staunch hope, "that the
+man's star might be setting, but it would appear to be still in the
+ascendant.  Charles," he added, as an afterthought, "would be on the
+staff.  No doubt he only saw the fighting from a distance."
+
+Desiree, from whose face the colour had faded, nodded cheerfully
+enough.
+
+"Oh yes," she answered, "I have no doubt he is safe.  He has good
+fortune."
+
+For she was an apt pupil, and had already learnt that the world only
+wishes to leave us in undisputed possession of our anxieties or
+sorrows, however ready it may be to come forward and take a hand in
+good fortune.
+
+"But there is no definite news," said Mathilde, hardly looking up
+from the needlework at which her fingers were so deft and
+industrious.
+
+"No."
+
+"No news of Charles, I mean," she continued, "or of any of our
+friends.  Of Monsieur de Casimir, for instance?"
+
+"No.  As for Colonel de Casimir," returned Sebastian thoughtfully,
+"he, like Charles, holds some staff appointment of which one does
+not understand the scope.  He is without doubt uninjured."
+
+Mathilde glanced at her father not without suspicion.  His grand
+manner might easily be at times a screen.  One never knows how much
+is perceived by those who look down from a high place.
+
+The town was quiet enough all that night.  Sebastian must have heard
+the news from some unofficial source, for none other seemed to know
+it.  But at daybreak the church bells, so rarely used in Dantzig for
+rejoicing, awoke the burghers to the fact that the Emperor bade them
+make merry.  Napoleon gave great heed to such matters.  In the
+churches of Lithuania and farther on in Russia he had commanded the
+popes to pray for him at their altars instead of for the Czar.
+
+When Desiree came downstairs, she found a packet awaiting her.  The
+courier had come in during the night.  This was more than a letter.
+A number of papers had been folded in a handkerchief and bound with
+string.  The address was written on a piece of white leather cut
+from the uniform of one who had fallen at Borodino, and had no more
+need of sabretasche or trapping.
+
+     "Madame Desiree Darragon--nee Sebastian,
+                 Frauengasse 36,
+                    Dantzig."
+
+Desiree's heart stood still; for the writing was unknown to her.  As
+she cut the network of string, she thought that Charles was dead.
+When the enclosed papers fell upon the table, she was sure of it;
+for they were all in his writing.  She did not pick and choose as
+one would who has leisure and no very strong excitement, but took up
+the first paper and read:
+
+"Dear C.--I have been fortunate, as you will see from the enclosed
+report.  His Majesty cannot again say that I have been neglectful.
+I was quite right.  It is Sebastian and only Sebastian that we need
+fear.  Here, they are clumsy conspirators compared to him.  I have
+been in the river half the night, listening at the open stern window
+of a Reval pink to every word they said.  His Majesty can safely
+come to Konigsberg.  Indeed, he is better out of Dantzig.  For the
+whole country is riddled with that which they call patriotism, and
+we, treason.  But I can only repeat what His Majesty disbelieved the
+day before yesterday--that the heart of the ill is Dantzig, and the
+venom of it Sebastian.  Who he really is and what he is about, you
+must find out how you can.  I go forward to-day to Gumbinnen.  The
+enclosed letter to its address--I beg of you--if only in
+acknowledgment of all that I have sacrificed."
+
+The letter was unsigned, but the writing was the writing of Charles
+Darragon, and Desiree knew what he had sacrificed--what he could
+never recover.
+
+There were two or three more letters addressed to "Dear C.," bearing
+no signature, and yet written by Charles.  Desiree read them
+carefully with a sort of numb attention which photographed them
+permanently on her memory like writing that is carved in stone upon
+a wall.  There must be some explanation in one of them.  Who had
+sent them to her?  Was Charles dead?
+
+At last she came to a sealed envelope addressed to herself by
+Charles.  Some other hand had copied the address from it in
+identical terms on the piece of white leather.  She opened and read
+it.  It was the letter written to her by Charles on the bank of the
+Kalugha river on the eve of Borodino, and left unfinished by him.
+He must be dead.  She prayed that he might be.
+
+She was alone in the room, having come down early, as was her wont,
+to prepare breakfast.  She heard Lisa talking with some one at the
+door--a messenger, no doubt, to say that Charles was dead.
+
+One letter still remained unread.  It was in a different writing--
+the writing on the white leather.
+
+"Madame," it read, "The enclosed papers were found on the field by
+one of my orderlies.  One of them being addressed to you, furnishes
+a clue to their owner, who must have dropped them in the hurry of
+the advance.  Should Captain Charles Darragon be your husband, I
+have the pleasure to inform you that he was seen alive and well at
+the end of the day."  The writer assured Desiree of his respectful
+consideration, and wrote "Surgeon" after his name.
+
+Desiree had read the explanation too late.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII.  IN THE DAY OF REJOICING.
+
+
+
+     Truth, though it crush me.
+
+The door of the room stood open, and the sound of a step in the
+passage made Desiree glance up, as she hastily put together the
+papers found on the battlefield of Borodino.
+
+Louis d'Arragon was coming into the room, and for an instant, before
+his expression changed, she saw all the fatigue that he must have
+endured during the night; all that he must have risked.  His face
+was usually still and quiet; a combination of that contemplative
+calm which characterises seafaring faces, and the clean-cut
+immobility of a racial type developed by hereditary duties of self-
+restraint and command.
+
+He knew that there had been a battle, and, seeing the papers on the
+table, his eyes asked her the inevitable question which his lips
+were slow to put into words.
+
+In reply Desiree shook her head.  She looked at the papers in quick
+thought.  Then she withdrew from them the letter written to her by
+Charles--and put the others together.
+
+"You told me to send for you," she said in a quiet, tired voice, "if
+I wanted you.  You have saved me the trouble."
+
+His eyes were hard with anxiety as he looked at her.  She held the
+letters towards him.
+
+"By coming," she added, with a glance at him which took in the dust,
+and the stains of salt-water on his clothes, the fatigue he sought
+to conceal by a rigid stillness, and the tension that was left by
+the dangers he had passed through--daring all--to come.
+
+Seeing that he looked doubtfully at the papers, she spoke again.
+
+"One," she said, "that one on the stained paper, is addressed to me.
+You can read it--since I ask you."
+
+The letter told him, at all events, that Charles was not killed,
+and, seeing his face clear as he read, she gave an odd, curt laugh.
+
+"Read the others," she said.  "Oh! you need not hesitate.  You need
+not be so particular.  Read one, the top one.  One is enough."
+
+The windows stood open, and the morning breeze fluttering the
+curtains brought in the gay sound of bells, the high clear bells of
+Hanseatic days, rejoicing at Napoleon's new success--by order of
+Napoleon.  A bee sailed harmoniously into the room, made the circuit
+of it, and sought the open again with a hum that faded drowsily into
+silence.
+
+D'Arragon read the letter slowly from beginning to the unsigned end,
+while Desiree, sitting at the table, upon which she leant one elbow,
+resting her small square chin in the palm of her hand, watched him.
+
+"Ah?" she exclaimed at length, with a ring of contempt in her voice,
+as if at the thought of something unclean.  "A spy!  It is so easy
+for you to keep still, and to hide all you feel."
+
+D'Arragon folded the letter slowly.  It was the fatal letter written
+in the upper room in the shoemaker's house in Konigsberg in the
+Neuer Markt, where the linden trees grow close to the window.  In it
+Charles spoke lightly of the sacrifice he had made in leaving
+Desiree on his wedding-day, to do the Emperor's bidding.  It was
+indeed the greatest sacrifice that man can make; for he had thrown
+away his honour.
+
+"It may not be so easy as you think," returned D'Arragon, looking
+towards the door
+
+He had no time to say more; for Mathilde and her father were talking
+together on the stairs as they came down.  D'Arragon thrust the
+letters into his pocket, the only indication he had time to give to
+Desiree of the policy they must pursue.  He stood facing the door,
+alert and quiet, with only a moment in which to shape the course of
+more than one life.
+
+"There is good news, Monsieur," he said to Sebastian.  "Though I did
+not come to bring it."
+
+Sebastian pointed interrogatively to the open window, where the
+sound of the bells seemed to emphasize the sunlight and the
+freshness of the morning.
+
+"No--not that," returned D'Arragon.  "It is a great victory, they
+tell me; but it is hard to say whether such news would be good or
+bad.  It was of Charles that I spoke.  He is safe--Madame has
+heard."
+
+He spoke rather slowly, and turned towards Desiree with a measured
+gesture, not unlike Sebastian's habitual manner, and a quick glance
+to satisfy himself that she had understood and was ready.
+
+"Yes," said Desiree, "he was safe and well after the battle, but he
+gives no details; for the letter was actually written the day
+before."
+
+"With a mere word, added in postscriptum, to say that he was unhurt
+at the end of the day," suggested Sebastian, already drawing forward
+a chair with a gesture full of hospitality, inviting D'Arragon to be
+seated at the simple breakfast-table.  But D'Arragon was looking at
+Mathilde, who had gone rather hurriedly to the window, as if to
+breathe the air.  He had caught a glimpse of her face as she passed.
+It was hard and set, quite colourless, with bright, sleepless eyes.
+D'Arragon was a sailor.  He had seen that look in rougher faces and
+sterner eyes, and knew what it meant.
+
+"No details?" asked Mathilde in a muffled voice, without looking
+round.
+
+"No," answered Desiree, who had noticed nothing.  How much more
+clearly we should understand what is going on around us if we had no
+secrets of our own to defend!
+
+In obedience to Sebastian's gesture, D'Arragon took a chair, and
+even as he did so Mathilde came to the table, calm and mistress of
+herself again, to pour out the coffee, and do the honours of the
+simple meal.  D'Arragon, besides having acquired the seamen's habit
+of adapting himself unconsciously and unobtrusively to his
+surroundings, was of a direct mind, lacking self-consciousness, and
+simplified by the pressure of a strong and steady purpose.  For
+men's minds are like the atmosphere, which is always cleared by a
+steady breeze, while a changing wind generates vapours, mist,
+uncertainty.
+
+"And what news do you bring from the sea?" asked Sebastian.  "Is
+your sky there as overcast as ours in Dantzig?"
+
+"No, Monsieur, our sky is clearing," answered D'Arragon, eating with
+a hearty appetite the fresh bread and butter set before him.  "Since
+I saw you, the treaties have been signed, as you doubtless know,
+between Sweden and Russia and England."
+
+Nodding his head with silent emphasis, Sebastian gave it to be
+understood that he knew that and more.
+
+"It makes a great difference to us at sea in the Baltic," said
+D'Arragon.  "We are no longer harassed night and day, like a dog,
+hounded from end to end of a hostile street, not daring to look into
+any doorway.  The Russian ports and Swedish ports are open to us
+now."
+
+"One is glad to hear that your life is one of less hardship," said
+Sebastian gravely.  "I . . . . who have tasted it."
+
+Desiree glanced at his lean, hard face.  She rose, went out of the
+room, and returned in a few minutes carrying a new loaf which she
+set on the table before him with a short laugh, and something
+glistening in her eyes that was not mirth.
+
+But neither Desiree nor Mathilde joined in the conversation.  They
+were glad for their father to have a companion so sympathetic as to
+produce a marked difference in his manner.  For Sebastian was more
+at ease with Louis d'Arragon than he was with Charles, though the
+latter had the tie of a common fatherland, and spoke the same French
+that Sebastian spoke.  D'Arragon's French had the roundness always
+imparted to that language by an English voice.  It was perfect
+enough, but of an educated perfection.
+
+The talk was of such matters as concerned men more than women; of
+armies and war and treaties of peace.  For all the world thought
+that Alexander of Russia would be brought to his knees by the battle
+of Borodino.  None knew better how to turn a victory to account than
+he who claimed to be victor now.  "It does not suffice," Napoleon
+wrote to his brother at this time, "to gain a victory.  You must
+learn to turn it to advantage."
+
+Save for the one reference to his life in the Baltic during the past
+two months, D'Arragon said nothing of himself, of his patient,
+dogged work carried on by day and by night in all weathers.  Content
+to have escaped with his life, he neither referred to, nor thought
+of, his part in the negotiations which had resulted in the treaty
+just signed.  For he had been the link between Russia and England;
+the never-failing messenger passing from one to the other with
+question and answer which were destined to bear fruit at last in an
+understanding brought to perfection in Paris, culminating at Elba.
+
+Both were guarded in what they said of passing events, and both
+seemed to doubt the truth of the reports now flying through the
+streets of Dantzig.  Even in the quiet Frauengasse all the citizens
+were out on their terraces calling questions to those that passed by
+beneath the trees.  The itinerant tradesman, the milkman going his
+round, the vendors of fruit from Langfuhr and the distant villages
+of the plain, lingered at the doors to tell the servants the latest
+gossip of the market-place.  Even in this frontier city, full of
+spies, strangers spoke together in the streets, and the sound of
+their voices, raised above the clang of carillons, came in at the
+open window.
+
+"At first a victory is always a great one," said D'Arragon, looking
+towards the window.
+
+"It is so easy to ring a bell," added Sebastian, with his rare
+smile.
+
+He was quite himself this morning, and only once did the dull look
+arrest his features into the stony stillness which his daughters
+knew.
+
+"You are the only one of your name in Dantzig," said D'Arragon, in
+the course of question and answer as to the safe delivery of letters
+in time of war.
+
+"So far as I know, there is no other Sebastian," replied he; and
+Desiree, who had guessed the motive of the question, which must have
+been in D'Arragon's mind from the beginning, was startled by the
+fulness of the answer.  It seemed to make reply to more than
+D'Arragon had asked.  It shattered the last faint hope that there
+might have been another Sebastian of whom Charles had written.
+
+"For myself," said D'Arragon, changing the subject quickly, "I can
+now make sure of receiving letters addressed to me in the care of
+the English Consul at Riga, or the Consul at Stockholm, should you
+wish to communicate with me, or should Madame find leisure to give
+me news of her husband."
+
+"Desiree will no doubt take pleasure in keeping you advised of
+Charles's progress.  As for myself, I fear I am a bad correspondent.
+Perhaps not a desirable one in these days," said Sebastian, his face
+slowly clearing.  He waved the point aside with a gesture that
+looked out of place on a hand lean and spare, emerging from a shabby
+brown sleeve without cuff or ruffle.
+
+"For I feel assured," he went on, "that we shall continue to hear
+good news of your cousin; not only that he is safe and well, but
+that he makes progress in his profession.  He will go far, I am
+sure."
+
+D'Arragon bowed his acknowledgment of this kind thought, and rose
+rather hastily.
+
+"My best chance of quitting the city unseen," he said, "is to pass
+through the gates with the market-people returning to the villages.
+To do that, I must not delay."
+
+"The streets are so full," replied Sebastian, glancing out of the
+window, "that you will pass through them unnoticed.  I see beneath
+the trees, a neighbour, Koch the locksmith, who is perhaps waiting
+to give me news.  While you are saying farewell, I will go out and
+speak to him.  What he has to tell may interest you and your
+comrades at sea--may help your escape from the city this morning."
+
+He took his hat as he spoke and went to the door.  Mathilde,
+thirsting for the news that seemed to hum in the streets like the
+sound of bees, rose and followed him.  Desiree and D'Arragon were
+left alone.  She had gone to the window, and, turning there, she
+looked back at him over her shoulder, where he stood by the door
+watching her.
+
+"So, you see," she said, "there is no other Sebastian."
+
+D'Arragon made no reply.  She came nearer to him, her blue eyes
+sombre with contempt for the man she had married.  Suddenly she
+pointed to the chair which D'Arragon had just vacated.
+
+"That is where he sat.  He has eaten my father's salt a hundred
+times," she said, with a short laugh.  For whithersoever
+civilization may take us, we must still go back to certain primaeval
+laws of justice between man and man.
+
+"You judge too hastily," said D'Arragon; but she interrupted him
+with a gesture of warning.
+
+"I have not judged hastily," she said.  "You do not understand.  You
+think I judge from that letter.  That is only a confirmation of
+something that has been in my mind for a long time--ever since my
+wedding-day.  I knew when you came into the room upstairs on that
+day that you did not trust Charles."
+
+"I--?" he asked.
+
+"Yes," she answered, standing squarely in front of him and looking
+him in the eyes.  "You did not trust him.  You were not glad that I
+had married him.  I could see it in your face.  I have never
+forgotten."
+
+D'Arragon turned away towards the window.  Sebastian and Mathilde
+were in the street below, in the shade of the trees, talking with
+the eager neighbours.
+
+"You would have stopped it if you could," said Desiree; and he did
+not deny it.
+
+"It was some instinct," he said at length.  "Some passing
+misgiving."
+
+"For Charles?" she asked sharply.
+
+And D'Arragon, looking out of the window, would not answer.  She
+gave a sudden laugh.
+
+"One cannot compliment you on your politeness," she said.  "Was it
+for Charles that you had misgivings?"
+
+At last D'Arragon turned on his heel.
+
+"Does it matter?" he asked.  "Since I came too late."
+
+"That is true," she said, after a pause.  "You came too late; so it
+doesn't matter.  And the thing is done now, and I . . . , well, I
+suppose I must do what others have done before me--I must make the
+best of it."
+
+"I will help you," said D'Arragon slowly, almost carefully, "if I
+can."
+
+He was still avoiding her eyes, still looking out of the window.
+Sebastian was coming up the steps.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV.  MOSCOW.
+
+
+
+     Nothing is so disappointing as failure--except success.
+
+While the Dantzigers with grave faces discussed the news of Borodino
+beneath the trees in the Frauengasse, Charles Darragon, white with
+dust, rose in his stirrups to catch the first sight of the domes and
+cupolas of Moscow.
+
+It was a sunny morning, and the gold on the churches gleamed and
+glittered in the shimmering heat like fairyland.  Charles had ridden
+to the summit of a hill and sat for a moment, as others had done, in
+silent contemplation.  Moscow at last!  All around him men were
+shouting:  "Moscow!  Moscow!"  Grave, white-haired generals waved
+their shakos in the air.  Those at the summit of the hill called the
+others to come.  Far down in the valley, where the dust raised by
+thousands of feet hung in the air like a mist, a faint sound like
+the roar of falling water could be heard.  It was the word "Moscow!"
+sweeping back to the rearmost ranks of these starving men who had
+marched for two months beneath the glaring sun, parched with dust,
+through a country that seemed to them a Sahara.  Every house they
+approached, they had found deserted.  Every barn was empty.  The
+very crops ripening to harvest had been gathered in and burnt.  Near
+to the miserable farmhouses, a pile of ashes hardly cold marked
+where the poor furniture had been tossed upon the fire kindled with
+the year's harvest.
+
+Everywhere it was the same.  There are, as God created it, few
+countries of a sadder aspect than that which spreads between the
+Moskwa and the Vistula.  But it has been decreed by the dim laws of
+Race that the ugly countries shall be blessed with the greater love
+of their children, while men born in a beautiful land seem readiest
+to emigrate from it and make the best settlers in a new home.  There
+is only one country in the world with a ring-fence round it.  If a
+Russian is driven from his home, he will go to another part of
+Russia:  there is always room.
+
+Before the advance of the spoilers, chartered by their leader to
+unlimited and open rapine--indeed, he had led them hither with that
+understanding--the Prussians, peasant and noble alike, fled to the
+East.  A hundred times the advance guard, fully alive to the
+advantages of their position, had raced to the gates of a chateau
+only to find, on breaking open the doors, that it was empty--the
+furniture destroyed, the stores burnt, the wine poured out.
+
+So also in the peasants' huts.  Some, more careful than the rest,
+had pulled the thatch from the roof to burn it.  There was no corn
+in this the Egypt of their greedy hopes.  And, lest they should
+bring the corn with them, the spoilers found the mills everywhere
+wrecked.
+
+It was something new to them.  It was new to Napoleon, who had so
+frequently been met halfway, who knew that men for greed will part
+smilingly with half in order to save the residue.  He knew that
+many, rather than help a neighbour who is in danger by a robber,
+will join the robber and share the spoil, crying out that force
+majeure was used to them.
+
+But, as every man must judge according to his lights, so must even
+the greatest find himself in the dark at last.  No man of the Latin
+race will ever understand the Slav.  And because the beginning is
+easy--because in certain superficial tricks of speech and thought
+Paris and Petersburg are not unlike--so much the more is the breach
+widened when necessity digs deeper than the surface.  For, to make
+the acquaintance of a stranger who seems to be a counterpart of
+one's self in thought and taste, is like the first hearing of a
+kindred language such as Dutch to the English ear.  At first it
+sounds like one's own tongue with a hundred identical words, but on
+closer listening it will be found that the words mean something
+else, and that the whole is incomprehensible and the more difficult
+to acquire by the very reason of its resemblance.
+
+Napoleon thought that the Russians would act as his enemies of the
+Latin race had acted.  He thought that like his own people they
+would be over-confident, urging each other on to great deeds by loud
+words and a hundred boasts.  But the Russians lack self-confidence,
+are timid rather than over-bold, dreamy rather than fiery.  Only
+their women are glib of speech.  He thought that they would begin
+very brilliantly and end with a compromise, heart-breaking at first
+and soon lived down.
+
+"They are savages out here in the plains," he said.  "It is a
+barbaric and stupid instinct that makes them destroy their own
+property for the sake of hampering us.  As we approach Moscow we
+shall find that the more civilized inhabitants of the villages,
+enervated by an easy life, rendered selfish by possession of wealth,
+will not abandon their property, but will barter and sell to us and
+find themselves the victims of our might."
+
+And the army believed him.  For they always believed him.  Faith
+can, indeed, move mountains.  It carried four hundred thousand men,
+without provisions, through a barren land.
+
+And now, in sight of the golden city, the army was still hungry.
+Nay! it was ragged already.  In three columns it converged on the
+doomed capital, driving before it like a swarm of flies the Cossacks
+who harassed the advance.
+
+Here again, on the hill looking down into the smiling valley of the
+Moskwa, the unexpected awaited the invaders.  The city, shimmering
+in the sunlight like the realization of some Arab's dream, was
+silent.  The Cossacks had disappeared.  Except those around the
+Kremlin, towering above the river, the city had no walls.
+
+The army halted while aides-de-camp flew hither and thither on their
+weary horses.  Charles Darragon, sunburnt, dusty, hoarse with
+cheering, was among the first.  He looked right and left for de
+Casimir, but could not see him.  He had not seen his chief since
+Borodino, for he was temporarily attached to the staff of Prince
+Eugene, who had lost heavily at the Kalugha river.
+
+It was usual for the army to halt before a beleaguered city and
+await the advent in all humility of the vanquished.  Commonly it was
+the mayor of a town who came, followed by his councillors in their
+robes, to explain that the army had abandoned the city, which now
+begged to throw itself upon the mercy of the conqueror.
+
+For this the army waited on that sunny September morning.
+
+"He is putting on his robes," they said gaily.  "He is new to this
+work."
+
+But the mayor of Moscow disappointed them.  At last the troops moved
+on and camped for the night in a village under the Kremlin walls.
+It was here that Charles received a note from de Casimir.
+
+"I am slightly wounded," wrote that officer, "but am following the
+army.  At Borodino my horse was killed under me, and I was thrown.
+While I was insensible, I was robbed and lost what money I had, as
+well as my despatch-case.  In the latter was the letter you wrote to
+your wife.  It is lost, my friend; you must write another."
+
+Charles was tired.  He would put off till to-morrow, he thought, and
+write to Desiree from Moscow.  As he lay, all dressed on the hard
+ground, he fell to thinking of what he should write to Desiree to-
+morrow from Moscow.  The mere date and address of such a letter
+would make her love him the more, he thought; for, like his leaders,
+he was dazed by a surfeit of glory.
+
+As he fell asleep smiling at these happy reflections, Desiree, far
+away in Dantzig, was locking in her bureau the letter which had been
+lost and found again; while, on the deck of his ship, lifting gently
+to the tideway where the Vistula sweeps out into the Dantziger
+Bucht, Louis d'Arragon stood fingering reflectively in his jacket-
+pocket the unread papers which had fallen from the same despatch-
+case.  For it is a very small world in which to do wrong, though if
+a man do a little good in his lifetime it is--heaven knows--soon
+mislaid and trodden under the feet of the new-comers.
+
+The next day it was definitely ascertained that the citizens of
+Moscow had no communication to make to the conquering leaders.  Soon
+after daylight the army moved towards the city.  The suburbs were
+deserted.  The houses stood with closed shutters and locked doors.
+Not so much as a dog awaited the triumphant entry through the city
+gates.
+
+Long streets without a living being from end to end met the eyes of
+those daring organizers of triumphal entries who had been sent
+forward to clear a path and range the respectful citizens on either
+hand.  But there were no citizens.  There was not a single witness
+to this triumph of the greatest army the world had seen, led across
+Europe by the first captain in all history to conquer a virgin
+capital.
+
+The various corps marched to their quarters in silence, with nervous
+glances at the shuttered windows.  Some, breaking rank, ventured
+into the churches which stood open.  The candles were lighted on the
+altars, they reported to their comrades in a hushed voice when they
+returned, but there was no one there.
+
+Certain palaces were selected as head-quarters for the general
+officers and the chiefs of various departments.  As often as not a
+summons would be answered and the door opened by an obsequious
+porter, who handed the keys to the first-comer.  But he spoke no
+French, and only cringed in silence when addressed.  Other doors
+were broken in.
+
+It was like a play acted in dumb show on an immense stage.  It was
+disquieting and incomprehensible even to the oldest campaigner,
+while the young fire-eaters, fresh from St. Cyr, were strangely
+depressed by it.  There was a smell of sour smoke in the air, a
+suggestion of inevitable tragedy.
+
+On the Krasnaya Ploschad--the great Red Square, which is the central
+point of the old town--the soldiers were already buying and selling
+the spoil wrested from the burning Exchange.  It seemed that the
+citizens before leaving had collected their merchandise in this
+building to burn it.  To the rank-and-file this meant nothing but an
+incomprehensible stupidity.  To the educated and the thoughtful it
+was another evidence of that dumb and sullen capacity for infinite
+self-sacrifice which makes Russians different from any other race,
+and which has yet to be reckoned with in the history of the world.
+For it will tend to the greatest good of the greatest number, and is
+a power for national aggrandisement quite unattainable by any Latin
+people.
+
+Charles, with the other officers of Prince Eugene's staff, was
+quartered in a palace on the Petrovka--that wide street running from
+the Kremlin northward to the boulevards and the parks.  Going
+towards it he passed through the bazaars and the merchants'
+quarters, where, like an army of rag-pickers, the eager looters were
+silently hurrying from heap to heap.  Every warehouse had, it
+seemed, been ransacked and its contents thrown out into the streets.
+The first-comers had hurried on, seeking something more valuable,
+more portable, leaving the later arrivals to turn over their garbage
+like dogs upon a dust-heap.
+
+The Petrovka is a long street of great houses, and was now deserted.
+The pillagers were nervous and ill at ease, as men must always be in
+the presence of something they do not understand.  The most
+experienced of them--and there were some famous robbers in Murat's
+vanguard--had never seen an empty city abandoned all standing, as
+the Russians had abandoned Moscow.  They felt apprehensive of the
+unknown.  Even the least imaginative of them looked askance at the
+tall houses, at the open doors of the empty churches, and they kept
+together for company's sake.
+
+Charles's rooms were in the Momonoff Palace, where even the youngest
+lieutenant had vast apartments assigned to him.  It was in one of
+these--a lady's boudoir, where his dust-covered baggage had been
+thrown down carelessly by his orderly on a blue satin sofa--that he
+sat down to write to Desiree.
+
+His emotions had been stirred by all that he had passed through--by
+the first sight of Moscow, by the passage beneath the Gate of the
+Redeemer, where every man must uncover and only Napoleon dared to
+wear a hat; by the bewildering sense of triumph and the knowledge
+that he was taking part in one of the epochs of man's history on
+this earth.  The emotions lie very near together, so that laughter
+being aroused must also touch on tears, and hatred being kindled
+warms the heart to love.
+
+And, here in this unknown woman's room, with the very pen that she
+had thrown aside, Charles, who wrote and spoke his love with such
+facility, wrote to Desiree a love-letter such as he had never
+written before.
+
+When it was sealed and addressed he called his orderly to take it to
+the officer to whose duty it fell to make up the courier for
+Germany.  But he received no reply.  The man had joined his comrades
+in the busier quarters of the city.  Charles went to the head of the
+stairs and called again, with no better success.  The house was
+comparatively modern, built on the familiar lines of a Parisian
+hotel, with a wide stair descending to an entrance archway where
+carriages passed through into a courtyard.
+
+Descending the stairs, Charles found that even the sentry had
+absented himself from his duty.  His musket, leant against the post
+of the stone doorway, indicated that he was not far.  Listening in
+the silence of that great house, Charles heard some one at work with
+hammer and chisel in the courtyard.  He went there, and found the
+sentry kneeling at a low door, endeavouring to break it open.  The
+man had not been idle; from a piece of rope slung across his back
+half a dozen clocks were suspended.  They rattled together like the
+wares of a travelling tinsmith at every movement of his arms.
+
+"What are you doing there, my friend?" asked Charles.
+
+The man held up one finger over his shoulder without looking round,
+and shook it from side to side, as not desiring to be interrupted.
+
+"The cellar," he answered, "always the cellar.  It is human nature.
+We get it from the animals."
+
+He glanced round as he worked, and, perceiving that he had been
+addressing an officer, he scrambled to his feet with a grumbled
+curse.  He was an old man, baked by the sun.  The wrinkles in his
+face were filled with dust.  Since quitting the banks of the Vistula
+no opportunity for ablution seemed to have presented itself to him.
+He stood at attention, his lips working over sunken gums.
+
+"I want you to take this letter," said Charles, "to the officer on
+service at head-quarters, and ask him to include it in his courier.
+It is, as you see, a private letter--to my wife at Dantzig."
+
+The man looked at it, and grumbled something inaudible.  He took it
+in his hand and turned it over with the slow manner of the
+illiterate.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV.  THE GOAL.
+
+
+
+     God writes straight on crooked lines.
+
+Charles, having given his letter to the sentry with the order to
+take it to its immediate destination, turned towards the stairs
+again.  In those days an order was given in a different tone to that
+which servitude demands in later times.
+
+He returned to his room on the first floor without even waiting to
+make sure that he would be obeyed.  He had scarcely seated himself
+when, after a fumbling knock, the sentry opened the door and
+followed him into the room, still holding the letter in his hand.
+
+"Mon capitaine," he said with a certain calmness of manner as from
+an old soldier to a young one, "a word--that is all.  This letter,"
+he turned it in his hand as he spoke, and looking at Charles beneath
+scowling brows, awaited an explanation.  "Did you pick it up?"
+
+"No--I wrote it."
+
+"Good.  I . . . " he paused, and tapped himself on the chest so that
+there could be no mistake; there was a rattling sound behind him
+suggestive of ironware.  Indeed, he was hung about with other things
+than clocks, and seemed to be of opinion that if a soldier sets
+value upon any object he must attach it to his person.  "I, Barlasch
+of the Guard--Marengo, the Danube, Egypt--picked up after Borodino a
+letter like it.  I cannot read very quickly--indeed--  Bah! the old
+Guard needs no pens and paper--but that letter I picked up was just
+like this"
+
+"Was it addressed like that to Madame Desiree Darragon?"
+
+"So a comrade told me.  It is you, her husband?"
+
+"Yes," answered Charles, "since you ask; I am her husband."
+
+"Ah!" replied Barlasch darkly, and his limbs and features settled
+themselves into a patient waiting.
+
+"Well," asked Charles, "what are you waiting for?"
+
+"Whatever you may think proper, mon capitaine, for I gave the letter
+to the surgeon who promised that it should be forwarded to its
+address."
+
+Charles laughingly sought his purse.  But there was nothing in it,
+so he looked round the room.
+
+"Here, add this to your collection," and he took a small French
+clock from the writing-table, a pretty, gilded toy from Paris.
+
+"Thank you, mon capitaine."
+
+Barlasch, with shaking fingers, unknotted the rope around his
+shoulders.  As he was doing so one of the clocks on his back began
+to strike.  He paused, and stood looking gravely at his superior
+officer.  Another clock took up the tale and a third, while Barlasch
+sternly stood at attention.
+
+"Four o'clock," he said to himself, "and I, who have not yet
+breakfasted--"
+
+With a grunt and a salute he turned towards the door which stood
+open.  Some one was coming up the stairs rather slowly, his spurs
+clinking, his scabbard clashing against the gilded banisters.  Papa
+Barlasch stood aside at attention, and Colonel de Casimir came into
+the room with a gay word of greeting.  Barlasch went out, but he did
+not close the door.  It is to be presumed that he stood without,
+where he might have overheard all that they said to each other for
+quite a long time, until it was almost the half-hour when the clocks
+would strike again.  But de Casimir, perceiving that the door was
+open, closed it quietly from within, and Barlasch, shut out on the
+wide landing, made a grimace at the massive woodwork before turning
+to descend the stairs.
+
+It was the middle of September, and the days were shortening.  The
+dusk of evening had already closed over the city when de Casimir and
+Charles at length came downstairs.  No one had troubled to open the
+shutters of such rooms as were not required; and these were many.
+For Moscow was even at that day a great city, though less spacious
+and more fantastic than it is to-day.  There was plenty of room for
+the whole army in the houses left empty by their owners, so that
+many lodged as they had never lodged before and would never lodge
+again.
+
+The stairs were almost dark when Charles and his companion descended
+them.  The rusted musket poised against the doorpost still indicated
+the supposed presence of a sentry.
+
+"Listen," said Charles, "I found him burrowing like a rat at a
+cellar-door in the courtyard.  Perhaps he has got in."
+
+They listened, but could hear nothing.  Charles led the way towards
+the courtyard.  A glimmer of light guided him to the door he sought.
+It stood open.  Barlasch had succeeded in effecting an entry to the
+cellar, where his experience taught him to seek the best that an
+abandoned house contains.
+
+Charles and de Casimir peered down the narrow stairs.  By the light
+of a candle Barlasch was working vigorously amid a confused pile of
+cases, and furniture, and roughly tied bundles of clothing.  He had
+laid aside nothing, and his movements were attended by the usual
+rattle of hollow-ware.  They could see the perspiration gleaming on
+his face.  Even in this cellar there lingered the faint smell of
+sour smoke that filled the air of Moscow.
+
+De Casimir caught the gleam of jewellery, and went hurriedly
+downstairs.
+
+"What are you doing there, my friend?" he asked, and the words were
+scarcely out of his mouth, when Barlasch extinguished his candle.
+There followed a dead silence, such as comes when a rodent is
+disturbed at his work.  The two men on the cellar-stairs were
+conscious of the gaze of the bright, rat-like eyes below.
+
+De Casimir turned and followed Charles upstairs again.
+
+"Come up," he said, "and go to your post."
+
+There was no movement in response.
+
+"Name of a dog," cried de Casimir, "is all discipline relaxed?  Come
+up, I tell you, and obey my orders."
+
+He emphasized his command with the cocking of a pistol, and a slight
+disturbance in the darkness of the cellar heralded the unwilling
+approach of Barlasch, who climbed the stairs step by step like a
+schoolboy coming to punishment.
+
+"It is I who found the door, mon colonel, behind that pile of
+firewood.  It is I who opened it.  What is down there is mine," he
+said, sullenly.  But the only reply that de Casimir made was to
+seize him by the arm and jerk him away from the stairs.
+
+"To your post," he said, "take your arm, and out into the street, in
+front of the house.  That is your place."
+
+But while he was still speaking, they were all startled by a sudden
+disturbance in the cellar, and in the gloom a man stumbled up the
+stairs and ran past them.  Barlasch had taken the precaution of
+bolting the huge front door, which was large enough to give passage
+to a carriage.  The man, who exhaled an atmosphere of dust mingled
+with the disquieting and all-pervading odour of smoke, rushed at the
+huge door and tugged furiously at its handles.
+
+Charles, who was on his heels, grasped his arm, but the man swung
+round and threw him off as if he were a child.  He had a hatchet in
+his hand with which he aimed a blow at Charles, but missed him.
+Barlasch was already going towards his musket, which stood in the
+corner against the door-post, but the Russian saw his movement, and
+forestalled him.  Seizing the gun, he presented the bayonet to them,
+and stood with his back to the door, facing the three men in a
+breathless silence.  He was a large man, dishevelled, with long hair
+tumbled about his head, and light-coloured eyes, glaring like the
+eyes of a beast at bay.
+
+In the background de Casimir, quick and calm, had already covered
+him with the pistol produced as a persuasive to Barlasch.  For a
+second there was silence, during which they all could hear the call
+to arms in the street outside.  The patrol was hurrying down the
+Petrovka, calling the assembly.
+
+The report of the pistol rang through the house, shaking the doors
+and windows.  The man threw up his arms and stood for a moment
+looking at de Casimir with an expression of blank amazement.  Then
+his legs seemed to slip away from beneath him, and he collapsed to
+the floor.  He turned over with movements singularly suggestive of a
+child seeking a comfortable position in bed, and lay quite still,
+his cheek on the pavement and his staring eyes turned towards the
+cellar-door from which he had emerged.
+
+"He has his affair--that parishioner," muttered Barlasch, looking at
+him with a smile that twisted his mouth to one side.  And, as he
+spoke, the man's throat rattled.  De Casimir was reloading his
+pistol.  So persistent was the gaze of the dead man's eyes that de
+Casimir turned on his heel to look in the same direction.
+
+"Quick!" he exclaimed, pointing to the doorway, from which a lazy
+white smoke emerged in thin puffs.  "Quick, he has set fire to the
+house!"
+
+"Quick--with what, mon colonel?" asked Barlasch.
+
+"Why, go and fetch some men with a fire-engine."
+
+"There are no fire-engines left in Moscow, mon colonel!"
+
+"Then find buckets, and tell me where the well is."
+
+"There are no buckets left in Moscow, mon colonel.  We found that
+out last night, when we wanted to water the horses.  The citizens
+have removed them.  And there is not a well of which the rope has
+not been cut.  They are droll companions, these Russians, I can tell
+you."
+
+"Do as I tell you," repeated de Casimir, angrily, "or I shall put
+you under arrest.  Go and fetch men to help me to extinguish this
+fire."
+
+By way of reply, Barlasch held up one finger in a childlike gesture
+of attention to some distant sound.
+
+"No, thank you," he said, coolly, "not for me.  Discipline, mon
+colonel, discipline.  Listen, you can hear the 'assembly' as well as
+I.  It is the Emperor that one obeys.  One thinks of one's military
+career."
+
+With knotted and shaking fingers he drew back the bolts and opened
+the door.  On the threshold he saluted.
+
+"It is the call to arms, mes officiers," he said.  Then, shouldering
+his musket, he turned away, and all his clocks struck six.  The
+bells of the city churches seemed to greet him as he stepped into
+the street, for in Moscow each hour is proclaimed with deafening
+iteration from a thousand towers.
+
+He looked down the Petrovka; from half the houses which bordered the
+wide roadway--a street of palaces--the smoke was pouring forth in
+puffs.  He went uphill towards the Red Square and the Kremlin, where
+the Emperor had his head-quarters.  It was to this centre that the
+patrols had converged.  Looking back, Barlasch saw, not one house on
+fire, but a hundred.  The smoke arose from every quarter of the city
+at once.  He hurried on, but was stopped by a crowd of soldiers, all
+laden with booty, gesticulating, shouting, abusing one another.  It
+was Babel over again.  The riff-raff of sixteen nations had followed
+Napoleon to Moscow--to rob.  Half a dozen different tongues were
+spoken in one army corps.  There remained no national pride to act
+as a deterrent.  No man cared what he did.  The blame would be laid
+upon France.
+
+The crowd was collected in front of a high, many-windowed building
+in flames.
+
+"What is it?" Barlasch asked first one and then another.  But no one
+spoke his tongue.  At last he found a Frenchman.
+
+"It is the hospital."
+
+"And what is that smell?  What is burning there?"
+
+"Twelve thousand wounded," answered the man, with a sickening laugh.
+And even as he spoke one or two of the wounded dragged themselves,
+half burnt, down the wide steps.  No one dared to approach them, for
+the walls of the building were already bulging outwards.  One man
+was half covered with a sheet which was black, and his bare limbs
+were black with smoke.  All the hair was burnt from his head and
+face.  He stood for a moment in the doorway--a sight never to be
+forgotten--and then fell headlong down the steps, where he lay
+motionless.  Some one in the crowd laughed--a high cackle which was
+heard above the roar of the fire and the deafening chorus of burning
+timbers.
+
+Barlasch passed on, following some officers who were leading their
+horses towards the Kremlin.  The streets were full of soldiers
+carrying burdens, and staggering beneath the weight of their spoil.
+Many were wearing priceless fur cloaks, and others walked in women's
+wraps of sable and ermine.  Some wore jewellery, such as necklaces,
+on their rough uniforms, and bracelets round their sunburnt wrists.
+No one laughed at them, but only glanced enviously at the pillage.
+All were in deadly earnest, and none graver than those who had found
+drink and now regretted that they had given way to the temptation;
+for their sober comrades had outwitted them in finding treasure.
+
+One man gravely wore a gilt coronet crammed over the crown of his
+shako.  He joined Barlasch, staggering along beside him.
+
+"I come from the Cathedral," he explained, confidentially.  "St.
+Michael they call it.  They said there was great treasure there
+hidden in the cellars, but I only found a company of old kings in
+their coffins.  We stirred them up.  They were quiet enough when we
+found them, under their counterpanes of red velvet.  We stirred them
+up with the bayonet, and the dust got into our throats and choked
+us.  Name of God, I am thirsty.  You have nothing in your bottle,
+comrade?"
+
+"No."
+
+Barlasch trudged on, all his possessions swinging and clanking
+together.  The confidential man turned towards him and lifted his
+water-bottle, weighed it, and found it wanting.
+
+"Name of a name, of a name, of a name," he muttered, walking on.
+"Yes, there was nothing there.  Even the silver plates on the
+coffins with the names of those gentlemen were no thicker than a
+sword.  But I found a crown in the church itself.  I borrowed it
+from St. Michael.  He had a sword in his hand, but he did not
+strike.  No.  And there was only tinsel on the hilt.  No jewels."
+
+He walked on in silence for a few minutes, coughing out the smoke
+and dust from his lungs.  It was almost dark, but the whole city was
+blazing now, and the sky glowed with a red light that mingled with
+the remnants of a lurid sunset.  A strong wind blew the smoke and
+the flying sparks across the roofs.
+
+"Then I went into the sacristy," continued the man, stumbling over
+the dead body of a young girl and turning to curse her.  Barlasch
+looked at him sideways and cursed him for doing it, with a sudden
+fierce eloquence.  For Papa Barlasch was a man of unclean lips.
+
+"There was an old man in there, a sacristan.  I asked him where he
+kept the dishes, and he said he could not speak French.  I jerked my
+bayonet into him--name of a name! he soon spoke French."
+
+Barlasch broke off these delicate confidences by a quick word of
+command, and himself stood rigid in the roadway before the Imperial
+Palace of the Kremlin, presenting arms.  A man passed close by them
+on his way towards a waiting carriage.  He was stout and heavy-
+shouldered, peculiarly square, with a thick neck and head set low in
+the shoulders.  On the step of the carriage he turned and surveyed
+the lurid sky and the burning city to the east with an indifferent
+air.  Into his deep bloodshot eyes there flashed a sudden gleam of
+life and power, as he glanced along the row of watching faces to
+read what was written there.
+
+It was Napoleon, at the summit of his dream, hurriedly quitting the
+Kremlin, the boasted goal of his ambition, after having passed but
+one night under that proud roof.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI.  THE FIRST OF THE EBB.
+
+
+
+                    Tho' he trip and fall
+     He shall not blind his soul with clay.
+
+The days were short, and November was drawing to its end when
+Barlasch returned to Dantzig.  Already the frost, holding its own
+against a sun that seemed to linger in the North that year,
+exercised its sway almost to midday, and drew a mist from the level
+plains.
+
+The autumn had been one of unprecedented splendour, making the
+imaginative whisper that Napoleon, like a second Joshua, could exact
+obedience even from the sun.  A month earlier, soon after the
+retreat was ordered, the nights had begun to be cold, but the days
+remained brilliant.  Now the rivers were shrouded in white mist, and
+still water was frozen.
+
+Barlasch seemed to take it for understood that a billet holds good
+throughout a whole campaign.  But the door of No. 36 Frauengasse was
+locked when he turned its iron handle.  He knocked, and waited on
+the step.
+
+It was Desiree who opened the door at length--Desiree, grown older,
+with something new in her eyes.  Barlasch, sure of his entree, had
+already removed his boots, which he carried in his hand; this added
+to a certain surreptitiousness in his attitude.  A handkerchief was
+bound over his left eye.  He wore his shako still, but the rest of
+his uniform verged on the fantastic.  Under a light-blue Bavarian
+cavalry cape he wore a peasant's homespun shirt, and he carried no
+arms.
+
+He pushed past Desiree rather unceremoniously, glad to get within
+doors.  He was very lame, and of his blue knitted stockings only the
+legs remained; he was barefoot.
+
+He limped towards the kitchen, glancing over his shoulder to make
+sure that Desiree shut the door.  The chair he had made his own
+stood just within the open door of the kitchen.  It was nine o'clock
+in the morning, and Lisa had gone to market.  Barlasch sat down.
+
+"Voila," he said, and that was all.  But by a gesture he described
+the end of the world.  Then he scowled at her with his available eye
+with suspicion, and she turned away suddenly, as one may who has not
+a clear conscience.
+
+"What is the matter with your eye?" she asked, in order to break the
+silence.  He laid aside his hat, and his ragged hair, quite white,
+fell to his shoulders.  By way of answer, he unknotted the
+bloodstained dusky handkerchief, and looked up at her.  The hidden
+eye was uninjured and as bright as the other.
+
+"Nothing," he answered, and he confirmed the statement by a low-born
+wink.  More than once he glanced, with a glaring light in his eye,
+towards the cupboard where Lisa kept the bread, and quite suddenly
+Desiree knew that he was starving.  She ran to the cupboard, and
+hurriedly set down on the table before him what was there.  It was
+not much--a piece of cold meat and a whole loaf.
+
+He had taken off his haversack, and was fumbling in it with unsteady
+hands.  At last he found that which he sought.  It was wrapped in a
+silk scarf that must have come from Cashmere to Moscow, and from
+Moscow in his haversack with pieces of horseflesh and muddy roots to
+Dantzig.  With that awkwardness in giving and taking which belongs
+to his class, he held out to Desiree a little square "ikon" no
+bigger than a playing-card.  It was of gold, set with diamonds, and
+the faces of the Virgin and Child were painted with exquisite
+delicacy.
+
+"It is a thing to say your prayers to," he said gruffly.
+
+By an effort he kept his eyes averted from the food on the table.
+
+"I met a baker on the bridge," he said, "and offered it to him for a
+loaf, but he refused."
+
+And there was a whole history of human suffering and temptation--of
+the human fall--in his curt laugh.  While Desiree was looking at the
+treasure in speechless admiration, he turned suddenly and took the
+bread and meat in his grimy hands.  His crooked fingers closed over
+the loaf, making the crust crack, and for a second the expression of
+his face was not human.  Then he hurried to the room that had been
+his, like a dog that seeks to hide its greed in its kennel.
+
+In a surprisingly short time he came back, the greyness all gone
+from his face, though his eyes still glittered with the dry, hard
+light of starvation.  He went back to the chair near the door, and
+sat down.
+
+"Seven hundred miles," he said, looking down at his feet with a
+shake of the head, "seven hundred miles in six weeks."
+
+Then he glanced at her and out through the open door, to make sure
+none could overhear.
+
+"Because I was afraid," he added in a whisper.  "I am easily
+frightened.  I am not brave."
+
+Desiree shook her head and laughed.  Women have from all time
+accepted the theory that a uniform makes a man courageous.
+
+"They had to abandon the guns," he went on, "soon after quitting
+Moscow.  The horses were starving.  There was a steep hill, and the
+guns were left at the bottom.  Then I began to be afraid.  There
+were some marching with candelabras on their backs and nothing in
+their carnassieres.  They carried a million francs on their
+shoulders and death in their faces.  I was afraid.  I carried salt--
+salt--and nothing else.  Then one day I saw the Emperor's face.
+That was enough.  The same night I crept away while the others slept
+round the fire.  They looked like a masquerade.  Some of them wore
+ermine.  Oh! I was afraid, I tell you.  I only had the salt and some
+horse.  There was plenty of that on the road.  And that toy.  I
+found it in Moscow.  I stood in a cellar, as big as this room, full
+of such things.  But one thinks of one's life.  I only carried salt,
+and that picture for you . . .  to say your prayers to.  The good
+God will hear you, perhaps; He has no time to listen to us others."
+
+And he used the last words as a French peasant, which is a survival
+of serfdom that has come down through the furnace of the Revolution.
+
+"But I cannot take it," said Desiree.  "It is worth a million
+francs."
+
+He looked at her fiercely.
+
+"You think that I look for something in return?"
+
+"Oh no!" she answered, "I have nothing to give you in return.  I am
+as poor as you."
+
+"Then we can be friends," he said.  He was eyeing surreptitiously a
+mug of beer which Desiree had set before him on the table.  Some
+instinct, or the teaching of the last two months, made it repugnant
+to him to eat or drink beneath his neighbour's eye.  He was a sorry-
+looking figure, not far removed from the animals, and in his
+downward journey he had picked up, perhaps, the instinct which none
+can explain, telling an animal to take its food in secret.
+
+Desiree went to the window, turning her back to him, and looked out
+into the yard.  She heard him drink, and set the mug down again with
+a gulp.
+
+"You were in Moscow?" she said at length, half turning towards him
+so that he could see her profile and her short upper lip, which was
+parted as if to ask a question which she did not put into words.  He
+looked her slowly up and down beneath his heavy eyebrows, his little
+cunning eyes alight with suspicion.  He watched her parted lips,
+which were tilted at the corners, showing humour and a nature quick
+to laugh or suffer.  Then he jerked his head upwards as if he saw
+the unasked question quivering there, and bore her some malice for
+her silence.
+
+"Yes! I was in Moscow," he said, watching the colour fade from her
+face.  "And I saw him--your husband--there.  I was on guard outside
+his door the night we entered the city.  It was I who carried to the
+post the letter he wrote you.  He was very anxious that it should
+reach you.  You received it--that love-letter?"
+
+"Yes," answered Desiree gravely, in no wise responding to a sudden
+forced gaiety in Papa Barlasch, which was only an evidence of the
+shyness with which rough men all the world over approach the subject
+of love.  The gaiety lapsed into a sudden silence.  He waited for
+her to ask a question, but in vain.
+
+"I never saw him again," went on Barlasch, "for the 'general'
+sounded, and I went out into the streets to find the city on fire.
+In a great army, as in a large country, one may easily lose one's
+own brother.  But he will return--have no fear.  He has good
+fortune--the fine gentleman."
+
+He stopped and scratched his head, looked at her sideways with a
+grimace of bewilderment.
+
+"It is good news I bring you," he muttered.  "He was alive and well
+when we began the retreat.  He was on the staff, and the staff had
+horses and carriages.  They had bread to eat, I am told."
+
+"And you--what had you?" asked Desiree, over her shoulder.
+
+"No matter," he answered gruffly, "since I am here."
+
+"And yet you believe in that man still," flashed out Desiree,
+turning to face him.
+
+Barlasch held up a warning finger, as if bidding her to be silent on
+a subject on which she was not capable of forming a judgment.  He
+wagged his head from side to side and heaved a sigh.
+
+"I tell you," he said, "I saw his face after Malo-Jaroslavetz; we
+lost ten thousand that day.  And I was afraid.  For I saw in it that
+he was going to leave us as he did in Egypt.  I am not afraid when
+he is there--not afraid of the Devil--or the bon Dieu, but when
+Napoleon is not there--"  He broke off with a gesture describing
+abject terror.
+
+"They say in Dantzig," said Desiree, "that he will never get back
+across the Beresina, for the Russians are bringing two armies to
+stop him there.  They say that the Prussians will turn against him."
+
+"Ah--they say that already?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+He looked at her with a sudden light of anger in his eyes.
+
+"Who has taught you to hate Napoleon?" he asked bluntly.
+
+And again Desiree turned away from his glance as if she could not
+meet it.
+
+"No one," she answered.
+
+"It is not the patron," said Barlasch, muttering his thoughts as he
+hobbled to the door of his little room, and began unloading his
+belongings with a view to ablution; for he was a self-contained
+traveller, carrying with him all he required.  "It is not the
+patron.  Because such a hatred as his cannot be spoken of.  It is
+not your husband, because Napoleon is his god."
+
+He broke off with one of his violent jerks of the head, almost
+threatening to dislocate his neck, and looked at her fixedly.
+
+"It is because you have grown into a woman since I went away."
+
+And out came his accusing finger, though Desiree had her back turned
+towards him, and there was none other to see.
+
+"Ah!" he said, with deadly contempt, "I see, I see!"
+
+"Did you expect me to grow up into a man?" asked Desiree, over her
+shoulder.
+
+Barlasch stood in the doorway, his lips and jaw moving as if he were
+masticating winged words.  At length, having failed to find a
+tremendous answer, he softly closed the door.
+
+This was not the only wise old veteran of the Grand Army to see
+which way the wind blew; for many another after the battle of Malo-
+Jaroslavetz packed upon his back such spoil as he could carry, and
+set off on foot for France.  For the cold had come at length, and
+not a horse in the French army was roughed for the snowy roads, nor,
+indeed, had provision been made to rough them.  This was a sign not
+lost upon those who had horses to care for.  The Emperor, who forgot
+nothing, had forgotten this.  He who foresaw everything, had omitted
+to foresee the winter.  He had ordered a retreat from Moscow, in the
+middle of October, of an army in summer clothing, without provision
+for the road.  The only hope was to retreat through a new line of
+country not despoiled by the enormous army in its advance of every
+grain of corn, every blade of grass. But this hope was frustrated by
+the Russians who, hemming them in, forced them to keep the road
+along which they had made so triumphant a march on Moscow.
+
+Already, in the ranks, it was whispered that by the light of the
+burning city some had perceived dark forms moving on the distant
+plains--a Russian army passing westward in front of them to await
+and cut them off at the passage of some river.  The Russians had
+fought well at Borodino:  they fought desperately at Malo-
+Jaroslavetz, which town was taken and retaken eleven times and left
+in cinders.
+
+The Grand Army was no longer in a position to choose its way.  It
+was forced to cross again the battlefield of Borodino, where thirty
+thousand dead lay yet unburied.  But Napoleon was still with them,
+his genius flashing out at times with something of the fire which
+had taken men's breath away and burnt his name indelibly into the
+pages of the world's history.  Even when hard pressed, he never
+missed a chance of attacking.  The enemy never made a mistake that
+he did not give them reason to rue it.
+
+To the waiting world came at length the news that the winter, so
+long retarded, had closed down over Russia.  In Dantzig, so near the
+frontier, a hundred rumours chased each other through the streets;
+and day by day Antoine Sebastian grew younger and gayer.  It seemed
+as if a weight long laid upon his heart had been lifted at last.  He
+made a journey to Konigsberg soon after Barlasch's return, and came
+back with eager eyes.  His correspondence was enormous.  He had, it
+seemed, a hundred friends who gave him news and asked something in
+exchange--advice, encouragement, warning.  And all the while men
+whispered that Prussia would ally herself to Russia, Sweden, and
+England.
+
+From Paris came news of a growing discontent.  For France, among a
+multitude of virtues, has one vice unpardonable to Northern men:
+she turns from a fallen friend.
+
+Soon followed the news of Beresina--a poor little river of
+Lithuania--where the history of the world hung for a day as on a
+thread.  But a flash of the dying genius surmounted superhuman
+difficulties, and the catastrophe was turned into a disaster.  The
+divisions of Victor and Oudinot--the last to preserve any semblance
+of military discipline--were almost annihilated.  The French lost
+twelve thousand killed or drowned in the river, sixteen thousand
+prisoners, twelve of the remaining guns.  But they were across the
+Beresina.  There was no longer a Grand Army, however.  There was no
+army at all--only a starving, struggling trail of men stumbling
+through the snow, without organization or discipline or hope.
+
+It was a disaster on the same gigantic scale as the past victories--
+a disaster worthy of such a conqueror.  Even his enemies forgot to
+rejoice.  They caught their breath and waited.
+
+And suddenly came the news that Napoleon was in Paris.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII.  A FORLORN HOPE.
+
+
+
+               The fire i' the flint
+     Shows not, till it be struck.
+
+"It is time to do something," said Papa Barlasch on the December
+morning when the news reached Dantzig that Napoleon was no longer
+with the army--that he had made over the parody of command of the
+phantom army to Murat, King of Naples--that he had passed like an
+evil spirit unknown through Poland, Prussia, Germany, travelling
+twelve hundred miles night and day at breakneck speed, alone, racing
+to Paris to save his throne.
+
+"It is time to do something," said all Europe, when it was too late.
+For Napoleon was himself again--alert, indomitable, raising a new
+army, calling on France to rise to such heights of energy and
+vitality as only France can compass; for the colder nations of the
+North lack the imagination that enables men to pit themselves
+against the gods at the bidding of some stupendous will, only second
+to the will of God Himself.
+
+"Go to Dantzig, and hold it till I come," Napoleon had said to Rapp.
+"Retreat to Poland, and hold on to anything you can till I come back
+with a new army," he had commanded Murat and Prince Eugene.
+
+"It is time to do something," said all the conquered nations,
+looking at each other for initiation.  And lo! the Master of
+Surprises struck them dumb by his sudden apparition in his own
+capital, with all the strings of the European net gathered as if by
+magic into his own hands again.
+
+While everybody told his neighbour that it was time to do something,
+no one knew what to do.  For it has pleased the Creator to put a
+great many talkers into this world and only a few men of action to
+make its history.
+
+Papa Barlasch knew what to do, however.
+
+"Where is that sailor?" he asked Desiree, when she had told him the
+news which Mathilde brought in from the streets.  "He who took the
+patron's valise that night--the cousin of your husband."
+
+"There is a man at Zoppot who will tell you," she answered.
+
+"Then I go to Zoppot."
+
+Barlasch had lived unmolested in the Frauengasse since his return.
+He was an old man, ill-clad, with a bloody handkerchief bound over
+one eye.  No one asked him any questions, except Sebastian, who
+heard again and again the tale of Moscow--how the army which had
+crossed into Russia four hundred thousand strong was reduced to a
+hundred thousand when the retreat began; how handmills were issued
+to the troops to grind corn which did not exist; how the horses died
+in thousands and the men in hundreds from starvation; how God at
+last had turned his face from Napoleon.
+
+"Something must be done.  The patron will do nothing; he is in the
+clouds, he is dreaming dreams of a new France, that bourgeois.  I am
+an old man.  Yes, I will go to Zoppot."
+
+"You mean that we should have heard from Charles before now," said
+Desiree.
+
+"Name of thunder! he may be in Paris!" exclaimed Barlasch, with the
+sudden anger that anxiety commands.  "He is on the staff, I tell
+you."
+
+For suspense is one of the most contagious of human emotions, and
+makes a quicker call upon our sympathy than any other.  Do we not
+feel such a desire that our neighbour may know the worst without
+delay, that we race to impart it to him?
+
+Nor was Desiree alone in the trial which had drawn certain lines
+about her gay lips; for Mathilde had told her father and sister that
+should Colonel de Casimir return from the war he would ask her hand
+in marriage.
+
+"And that other--the Colonel," added Barlasch, glancing at Mathilde,
+"he is on the staff too.  They are safe enough, I tell you that.
+They are doubtless together.  They were together at Moscow.  I saw
+them, and took an order from them.  They were . . . at their work."
+
+Mathilde did not like Papa Barlasch.  She would, it seemed, rather
+have no news at all of de Casimir than learn it from the old
+soldier, for she quitted the room without even troubling to throw
+him a glance of disdain.
+
+Barlasch waited with working lips until the sound of her footsteps
+ceased on the stairs.  Then he pushed across the kitchen table a
+piece of writing-paper, rather yellow and woolly.  It had been to
+Moscow and back.
+
+"Write a word to him," he said.  "I will take it to Zoppot."
+
+"But you can send a message by the fisherman whose name I have given
+you," answered Desiree.
+
+"And will he heed the message?  Will he come ashore at a word from
+me--only Barlasch?  Remember it is his life that he carries in his
+hand.  An English sailor with a French name!  Thunder of thunder!
+They would shoot him like a rat!"
+
+Desiree shook her head; but Barlasch was not to be denied.  He
+brought pen and ink from the dresser, and pushed them across the
+table.
+
+"I would not ask it," he said, "if it was not necessary.  Do you
+think he will mind the danger?  He will like it.  He will say to me,
+'Barlasch, I thank you.'  Ah? I know him.  Write.  He will come."
+
+"Why?" asked Desiree.
+
+"Why?  How should I know that?  He came before when you asked him."
+
+Desiree leant over the table and wrote six words:
+
+"Come, if you can come safely."
+
+Barlasch took up the paper, and, pushing up the bandage which had
+served to bring him unharmed through Russia, he frowned at it
+without understanding.
+
+"It is not all writings that I can read," he admitted.  "Have you
+signed it?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Then sign something that he will know, and no other--they might
+shoot me.  Your baptismal name."
+
+And she wrote "Desiree" after the six words.
+
+Barlasch folded the paper carefully and placed it in the lining of
+an old felt hat of Sebastian's which he now wore.  He bound a scarf
+over his ears, after the manner of those who live on the Baltic
+shores in winter.
+
+"You can leave the rest to me," he said; and, with a nod and a
+grimace expressive of cunning, he left her.
+
+He did not return that night.  The days were short now, for the
+winter was well set in.  It was nearly dark the next afternoon and
+very cold when he came back.  He sent Lisa upstairs for Desiree.
+
+"First," he said, "there is a question for the patron.  Will he quit
+Dantzig?--that is the question."
+
+"No," answered Desiree.
+
+"Rapp is coming," said Barlasch, emphasizing each point with one
+finger against the side of his nose.  "He will hold Dantzig.  There
+will be a siege.  Let the patron make no mistake.  It will not be
+like the last one.  Rapp was outside then; he will be inside this
+time.  He will hold Dantzig till the bottom falls out of the world."
+
+"My father will not leave," said Desiree.  "He has said so.  He
+knows that Rapp is coming, with the Russians behind him."
+
+"But," interrupted Barlasch, "he thinks that Prussia will turn and
+declare war against Napoleon.  That may be.  Who knows?  The
+question is, Can the patron be induced to quit Dantzig?"
+
+Desiree shook her head.
+
+"It is not I," said Barlasch, "who ask the question.  You
+understand?"
+
+"Yes, I understand.  My father will not quit Dantzig."
+
+Whereupon Barlasch made a gesture conveying a desire to think as
+kindly of Antoine Sebastian as he could.
+
+"In half an hour," he said, "when it is dark, will you come for a
+walk with me along the Langfuhr road--where the unfinished ramparts
+are?"
+
+Desiree looked at him and hesitated.
+
+"Oh--good--if you are afraid--" said Barlasch.
+
+"I am not afraid--I will come," she answered quickly.
+
+The snow was hard when they set out, and squeaked under their feet,
+as it does with a low thermometer.
+
+"We shall leave no tracks," said Barlasch, as he led the way off the
+Langfuhr road towards the river.  There was broken ground here,
+where earthworks had been begun and never completed.  The trees had
+been partly cut, and beneath the snow were square mounds showing
+where the timber had been piled up.  But since the departure of
+Rapp, all had been left incomplete.
+
+Barlasch turned towards Desiree and pointed out a rising knoll of
+land with fir-trees on it--an outline against the sky where a faint
+aurora borealis lit the north.  She understood that Louis was
+waiting there, and must necessarily see them approaching across the
+untrodden snow.  For an instant she lingered, and Barlasch turning,
+glanced at her sharply over his shoulder.  She had come against her
+will, and her companion knew it.  Her feet were heavy with
+misgiving, like the feet of one who treads an uncertain road into a
+strange country.  She had been afraid of Louis d'Arragon when she
+first caught sight of him in the Frauengasse.  The fear of him was
+with her now, and would not depart until he himself swept it away by
+the first word he spoke.
+
+He came out from beneath the trees, made a few steps forward, and
+then stopped.  Again Desiree lingered, and Barlasch, who was
+naturally impatient, turned and took her by the arm.
+
+"Is it the snow--that you find slippery?" he asked, not requiring an
+answer.  A moment later Louis came forward.
+
+"There is nothing but bad news," he said laconically.  "Barlasch
+will have told you; but there is no need to give up hope.  The army
+has reached the Niemen; the rearguard has quitted Vilna.  There is
+nothing for it but to go and look for him."
+
+"Who will go?" she asked quietly.
+
+"I."
+
+He was looking at her with grave eyes trained to darkness.  But she
+looked past him towards the sky, which was faintly lighted by the
+aurora.  Her averted eyes and rigid attitude were not without some
+suggestion of guilt.
+
+"My ship is ice-bound at Reval," said D'Arragon, in a matter-of-fact
+way.  "They have no use for me until the winter is over, and they
+have given me three months' leave."
+
+"To go to England?" she asked.
+
+"To go anywhere I like," he said, with a short laugh.  "So I am
+going to look for Charles, and Barlasch will come with me."
+
+"At a price," put in that soldier, in a shrewd undertone.  "At a
+price."
+
+"A small one," corrected Louis, turning to look at him with the
+close attention of one exploring a new country.
+
+"Bah!  You give what you can.  One does not go back across the
+Niemen for pleasure.  We bargained, and we came to terms.  I got as
+much as I could."
+
+Louis laughed, as if this were the blunt truth.
+
+"If I had more, I would give you more.  It is the money I placed in
+a Dantzig bank for my cousin.  I must take it out again, that is
+all."
+
+The last words were addressed to Desiree, as if he had acted in
+assurance of her approval.
+
+"But I have more," she said; "a little--not very much.  We must not
+think of money.  We must do everything to find him--to give him
+help, if he needs it."
+
+"Yes," answered Louis, as if she had asked him a question.  "We must
+do everything; but I have no more money."
+
+"And I have none with me.  I have nothing that I can sell."
+
+She withdrew her fur mitten and held out her hand, as if to show
+that she had no rings, except the plain gold one on her third
+finger.
+
+"You have the ikon I brought you from Moscow," said Barlasch
+gruffly.  "Sell that."
+
+"No," answered Desiree; "I will not sell that."
+
+Barlasch laughed cynically.
+
+"There you have a woman," he said, turning to Louis.  "First she
+will not have a thing, then she will not part with it."
+
+"Well," said Desiree, with some spirit, "a woman may know her own
+mind."
+
+"Some do," admitted Barlasch carelessly; "the happy ones.  And since
+you will not sell your ikon, I must go for what Monsieur le
+capitaine offers me.
+
+"Five hundred francs," said Louis.  "A thousand francs, if we
+succeed in bringing my cousin safely back to Dantzig."
+
+"It is agreed," said Barlasch, and Desiree looked from one to the
+other with an odd smile of amusement.  For women do not understand
+that spirit of adventure which makes the mercenary soldier, and
+urges the sailor to join an exploring expedition without hope of any
+reward beyond his daily pay, for which he is content to work and die
+loyally.
+
+"And I," she asked, "what am I to do?"
+
+"We must know where to find you," replied D'Arragon.
+
+There was so much in the simple answer that Desiree fell into a
+train of thought.  It did not seem much for her to do, and yet it
+was all.  For it summed up in six words a woman's life:  to wait
+till she is found.
+
+"I shall wait in Dantzig," she said at length.
+
+Barlasch held up his finger close to her face so that she could not
+fail to see it, and shook it slowly from side to side commanding her
+careful and entire attention.
+
+"And buy salt," he said.  "Fill a cupboard full of salt.  It is
+cheap enough in Dantzig now.  The patron will not think of it.  He
+is a dreamer.  But a dreamer awakes at length, and is hungry.  It is
+I who tell you--Barlasch."
+
+He emphasized himself with a touch of his curved fingers on either
+shoulder.
+
+"Buy salt," he said, and walked away to a rising knoll to make sure
+that no one was approaching.  The moon was just below the horizon,
+and a yellow glow was already in the sky.
+
+Desiree and Louis were left alone.  He was looking at her, but she
+was watching Barlasch with a still persistency.
+
+"He said that it is the happy women who know their own minds," she
+said slowly.
+
+"I suppose he meant--Duty," she added at length, when Louis made no
+sign of answering.
+
+"Yes," he said.
+
+Barlasch was beckoning to her.  She moved away, but stopped a few
+yards off, and looked at Louis again.
+
+"Do you think it is any good trying?" she asked, with a short laugh.
+
+"It is no good trying unless you mean to succeed," he answered
+lightly.  She laughed a second time and lingered, though Barlasch
+was calling her to come.
+
+"Oh," she said, "I am not afraid of you when you say things like
+that.  It is what you leave unsaid.  I am afraid of you, I think,
+because you expect so much."
+
+She tried to see his face.
+
+"I am only an ordinary human being, you know," she said warningly.
+
+Then she followed Barlasch.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII.  MISSING.
+
+
+
+     I should fear those that dance before me now
+     Would one day stamp upon me; it has been done:
+     Men shut their doors against a setting sun.
+
+During the first weeks of December the biting wind abated for a
+time, and immediately the snow came.  It fell for days, until at
+length the grey sky seemed exhausted; for the flakes sailed
+downwards in twos and threes like the stragglers of an army bringing
+up the rear.  Then the sun broke through again, and all the world
+was a dazzling white.
+
+There had been a cessation in that stream of pitiable men who
+staggered across the bridge from the Konigsberg road.  Some instinct
+had turned it southwards.  Now it began again, and the rumour spread
+throughout the city that Rapp was coming.  At length, in the middle
+of December, an officer brought word that Rapp with his staff would
+arrive next day.
+
+Desiree heard the news without comment.
+
+"You do not believe it?" asked Mathilde, who had come in with
+shining eyes and a pale face.
+
+"Oh yes, I believe it."
+
+"Then you forget," persisted Mathilde, "that Charles is on the
+staff.  They may arrive to-night."
+
+While they were speaking Sebastian came in.  He looked quickly from
+one to the other.
+
+"You have heard the news?" he asked.
+
+"That the General is coming back?" said Mathilde.
+
+"No; not that.  Though it is true.  Macdonald is in full retreat on
+Dantzig.  The Prussians have abandoned him--at last."
+
+He gave a queer laugh and stood looking towards the window with
+restless eyes that flitted from one object to another, as if he were
+endeavouring to follow in mind the quick course of events.  Then he
+remembered Desiree and turned towards her.
+
+"Rapp returns to-morrow," he said.  "We may presume that Charles is
+with him."
+
+"Yes," said Desiree, in a lifeless voice.
+
+Sebastian wrinkled his eyes and gave an apologetic laugh.
+
+"We cannot offer him a fitting welcome," he said, with a gesture of
+frustrated hospitality.  "We must do what we can.  You and he may,
+of course, consider this your home as long as it pleases you to
+remain with us.  Mathilde, you will see that we have such delicacies
+in the house as Dantzig can now afford--and you, Desiree, will of
+course make such preparations as are necessary.  It is well to
+remember, he may return . . . to-night."
+
+Desiree went towards the door while Mathilde laid aside the delicate
+needlework which seemed to absorb her mind and employ her fingers
+from morning till night.  She made a movement as if to accompany her
+sister, but Desiree shook her head sharply and Mathilde remained
+where she was, leaving Desiree to go upstairs alone.
+
+The day was already drawing to its long twilight, and at four
+o'clock the night came.  Sebastian went out as usual, though he had
+caught cold.  But Mathilde stayed at home.  Desiree sent Lisa to the
+shops in the Langenmarkt, which is the centre of business and gossip
+in Dantzig.  Lisa always brought home the latest news.  Mathilde
+came to the kitchen to seek something when the messenger returned.
+She heard Lisa tell Desiree that a few more stragglers had come in,
+but they brought no news of the General.  The house seemed lonely
+now that Barlasch was gone.
+
+Throughout the night the sound of sleigh-bells could be faintly
+heard through the double windows, though no sleigh passed through
+the Frauengasse.  A hundred times the bells seemed to come closer,
+and always Desiree was ready behind the curtains to see the light
+flash past into the Pfaffengasse.  With a shiver of suspense she
+crept back to bed to await the next alarm.  In the early morning,
+long before it was light, the dull thud of steps on the trodden snow
+called her to the window again.  She caught her breath as she drew
+back the curtain; for through the long watches of the night she had
+imagined every possible form of return.
+
+This must be Barlasch.  Louis and Barlasch must, of course, have met
+Rapp on his homeward journey.  On finding Charles, they had sent
+Barlasch back in advance to announce the safety of Desiree's
+husband.  Louis would, of course, not come to Dantzig.  He would go
+north to Russia, to Reval, and perhaps home to England--never to
+return.
+
+But it was not Barlasch.  It was a woman who staggered past under a
+burden of firewood which she had collected in the woods of
+Schottland, and did not dare to carry through the streets by day.
+
+At last the clocks struck six, and, soon after, Lisa's heavy
+footstep made the stairs creak and crack.
+
+Desiree went downstairs before daylight.  She could hear Mathilde
+astir in her room, and the light of candles was visible under her
+door.  Desiree busied herself with household affairs.
+
+"I have not slept," said Lisa bluntly, "for thinking that your
+husband might return, and fearing that we should make him wait in
+the street.  But without doubt you would have heard him."
+
+"Yes, I should have heard him."
+
+"If it had been my husband, I should have been at the window all
+night," said Lisa, with a gay laugh--and Desiree laughed too.
+
+Mathilde seemed a long time in coming, and when at length she
+appeared Desiree could scarcely repress a movement of surprise.
+Mathilde was dressed, all in her best, as for a fete.
+
+At breakfast Lisa brought the news told to her at the door that the
+Governor would re-enter the city in state with his staff at midday.
+The citizens were invited to decorate their streets, and to gather
+there to welcome the returning garrison.
+
+"And the citizens will accept the invitation," commented Sebastian,
+with a curt laugh.  "All the world has sneered at Russia since the
+Empire existed--and yet it has to learn from Moscow what part a
+citizen may play in war.  These good Dantzigers will accept the
+invitation."
+
+And he was right.  For one reason or another the city did honour to
+Rapp.  Even the Poles must have known by now that France had made
+tools of them.  But as yet they could not realize that Napoleon had
+fallen.  There were doubtless many spies in the streets that cold
+December day--one who listened for Napoleon; and another, peeping to
+this side and that, for the King of Prussia.  Sweden also would need
+to know what Dantzig thought, and Russia must not be ignorant of the
+gossip in a great Baltic port.
+
+Enveloped in their stiff sheepskins, concealed by the high collars
+which reached to the brim of their hats--showing nothing but eyes
+where the rime made old faces and young all alike, it was difficult
+for any to judge of his neighbour--whether he were Pole or Prussian,
+Dantziger or Swede.  The women in thick shawls, with hoods or
+scarves concealing their faces, stood silently beside their
+husbands.  It was only the children who asked a thousand questions,
+and got never an answer from the cautious descendants of a Hanseatic
+people.
+
+"Is it the French or the Russians that are coming?" asked a child
+near to Desiree.
+
+"Both," was the answer.
+
+"But which will come first?"
+
+"Wait and see--silentium," replied the careful Dantziger, looking
+over his shoulder.
+
+Desiree had changed her clothes, and wore beneath her furs the dress
+that had been prepared for the journey to Zoppot so long ago.
+Mathilde had noticed the dress, which had not been seen for six
+months.  Lisa, more loquacious, nodded to it as to a friend when
+helping Desiree with her furs.
+
+"You have changed," she said, "since you last wore it."
+
+"I have grown older--and fatter," answered Desiree cheerfully.
+
+And Lisa, who had no imagination, seemed satisfied with the
+explanation.  But the change was in Desiree's eyes.
+
+With Sebastian's permission--almost at his suggestion--they had
+selected the Grune Brucke as the point from which to see the sight.
+This bridge spans the Mottlau at the entrance to the Langenmarkt,
+and the roadway widens before it narrows again to pass beneath the
+Grunes Thor.  There is rising ground where the road spreads like a
+fan, and here they could see and be seen.
+
+"Let us hope," said Sebastian, "that two of these gentlemen may
+perceive you as they pass."
+
+But he did not offer to accompany them.
+
+By half-past eleven the streets were full.  The citizens knew their
+governor, it seemed.  He would not keep them waiting.  Although Rapp
+lacked that power of appealing to the imagination which has survived
+Napoleon's death with such astounding vitality that it moves men's
+minds to-day as surely as it did a hundred years ago, he was shrewd
+enough to make use of his master's methods when such would seem to
+serve his purpose.  He was not going to creep into Dantzig like a
+whipped dog into his kennel.
+
+He had procured a horse at Elbing.  Between that town and the
+Mottlau he had halted to form his army into something like order, to
+get together a staff with which to surround himself.
+
+But the Dantzigers did not cheer.  They stood and watched him in a
+sullen silence as he rode across the bridge now known as the "Milk-
+Can."  His bridle was twisted round his arm, for all his fingers
+were frostbitten.  His nose and his ears were in the same plight,
+and had been treated by a Polish barber who, indeed, effected a
+cure.  One eye was almost closed.  His face was astonishingly red.
+But he carried himself like a soldier, and faced the world with the
+audacity that Napoleon taught to all his disciples.
+
+Behind him rode a few staff officers, but the majority were on foot.
+Some effort had been made to revive the faded uniforms.  One or two
+heroic souls had cast aside the fur cloaks to which they owed their
+life, but the majority were broken men without spirit, without
+pride--appealing only to pity.  They hugged themselves closely in
+their ragged cloaks and stumbled as they walked.  It was impossible
+to distinguish between the officers and the men.  The biggest and
+the strongest were the best clad--the bullies were the best fed.
+All were black and smoke-grimed--with eyes reddened and inflamed by
+the dazzling snow through which they stumbled by day, as much as by
+the smoke into which they crouched at night.  Every garment was
+riddled by the holes burnt by flying sparks--every face was smeared
+with blood that ran from the horseflesh they had torn asunder with
+their teeth while it yet smoked.
+
+Some laughed and waved their hands to the crowd.  Others, who had
+known the tragedy of Vilna and Kowno, stumbled on in stubborn
+silence still doubting that Dantzig stood--that they were at last in
+sight of food and warmth and rest.
+
+"Is that all?" men asked each other in astonishment.  For the last
+stragglers had crossed the new Mottlau before the head of the
+procession had reached the Grune Brucke.
+
+"If I had such an army as that," said a stout Dantziger, "I should
+bring it into the city quietly, after dusk."
+
+But the majority were silent, remembering the departure of these
+men--the triumph, the glory, and the hope.  For a great catastrophe
+is a curtain that for a moment shuts out all history and makes the
+human family little children again who can but cower and hold each
+other's hands in the dark.
+
+"Where are the guns?" asked one.
+
+"And the baggage?" suggested another.
+
+"And the treasure of Moscow?" whispered a Jew with cunning eyes, who
+had hidden behind his neighbour when Rapp glanced in his direction.
+
+Emerging on the bridge, the General glanced at the old Mottlau.  A
+crowd was collected on it.  The citizens no longer used the bridges
+but crossed without fear where they pleased, and heavy sleighs
+passed up and down as on a high-road.  Rapp saw it, made a grimace,
+and, turning in his saddle, spoke to his neighbour, an engineer
+officer, who was to make an immortal name and die in Dantzig.
+
+The Mottlau was one of the chief defences of the city, but instead
+of a river the Governor found a high-road!
+
+Rapp alone seemed to look about him with the air of one who knew his
+whereabouts.  In the straggling trail of men behind him, not one in
+a hundred looked for a friendly face.  Some stared in front of them
+with lifeless eyes, while others, with a little spirit plucked up at
+the end of a weary march, glanced up at the gabled houses with the
+interest called forth by the first sight of a new city.
+
+It was not until long afterwards that the world, piecing together
+information purposely delayed and details carefully falsified, knew
+that of the four hundred thousand men who marched triumphantly to
+the Niemen, only twenty thousand recrossed that river six months
+later, and of these two-thirds had never seen Moscow.
+
+Rapp, whose bloodshot eyes searched the crowd of faces turned
+towards him, recognized a number of people.  To Mathilde he bowed
+gravely, and with a kindlier glance turned in his saddle to bow
+again to Desiree.  They hardly heeded him, but with colourless faces
+turned towards the staff riding behind him.
+
+Most of the faces were strange:  others were so altered that the
+features had to be sought for as in the face of a mummy.  Neither
+Charles nor de Casimir was among the horsemen.  One or two of them
+bowed, as their leader had done, to the two girls.
+
+"That is Captain de Villars," said Mathilde, "and the other I do not
+know.  Nor that tall man who is bowing now.  Who are they?"
+
+Desiree did not answer.  None of these men was Charles.
+Unconsciously holding her two mittened hands at her throat, she
+searched each face.
+
+They were well placed to see even those who followed on foot.  Many
+of them were not French.  It would have been easy to distinguish
+Charles or de Casimir among the dark-visaged southerners.  Desiree
+was not conscious of the crowd around her.  She heard none of the
+muttered remarks.  All her soul was in her eyes.
+
+"Is that all?" she said at length--as the others had said at the
+entrance to the town.
+
+She found she was standing hand-in-hand with Mathilde, whose face
+was like marble.
+
+At last, when even the crowd had passed away beneath the Grunes
+Thor, they turned and walked home in silence.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX.  KOWNO.
+
+
+
+              Distinct with footprints yet
+     Of many a mighty marcher gone that way.
+
+There are many who overlook the fact that in Northern lands, more
+especially in such plains as Lithuania, Courland, and Poland, travel
+in winter is easier than at any other time of year.  The rivers,
+which run sluggishly in their ditch-like beds, are frozen so
+completely that the bridges are no longer required.  The roads, in
+summer almost impassable--mere ruts across the plain--are for the
+time ignored, and the traveller strikes a bee-line from place to
+place across a level of frozen snow.
+
+Louis d'Arragon had worked out a route across the plain, as he had
+been taught to shape a course across a chart.
+
+"How did you return from Kowno?" he asked Barlasch.
+
+"Name of my own nose," replied that traveller.  "I followed the line
+of dead horses."
+
+"Then I will take you by another route," replied the sailor.
+
+And three days later--before General Rapp had made his entry into
+Dantzig--Barlasch sold two skeletons of horses and a sleigh at an
+enormous profit to a staff officer of Murat's at Gumbinnen.
+
+They had passed through Rapp's army.  They had halted at Konigsberg
+to make inquiry, and now, almost in sight of the Niemen, where the
+land begins to heave in great waves, like those that roll round Cape
+Horn, they were asking still if any man had seen Charles Darragon.
+
+"Where are you going, comrades?" a hundred men had paused to ask
+them.
+
+"To seek a brother," answered Barlasch, who, like many unprincipled
+persons, had soon found that a lie is much simpler than an
+explanation.
+
+But the majority glanced at them stupidly without comment, or with
+only a shrug of their bowed shoulders.  They were going the wrong
+way.  They must be mad.  Between Dantzig and Konigsberg they had
+indeed found a few travellers going eastward--despatch-bearers
+seeking Murat--spies going northwards to Tilsit, and General Yorck
+still in treaty with his own conscience--a prominent member of the
+Tugendbund, wondering, like many others, if there were any virtue
+left in the world.  Others, again, told them that they were officers
+ordered to take up some new command in the retreating army.
+
+Beyond Konigsberg, however, D'Arragon and Barlasch found themselves
+alone on their eastward route.  Every man's face was set towards the
+west.  This was not an army at all, but an endless procession of
+tramps.  Without food or shelter, with no baggage but what they
+could carry on their backs, they journeyed as each of us must
+journey out of this world into that which lies beyond--alone, with
+no comrade to help them over the rough places or lift them when they
+fell.  For there was only one man of all this rabble who rose to the
+height of self-sacrifice, and a persistent devotion to duty.  And he
+was coming last of all.
+
+Many had started off in couples--with a faithful friend--only to
+quarrel at last.  For it is a peculiarity of the French that they
+can only have one friend at a time.  Long ago--back beyond the
+Niemen--all friendships had been dissolved, and discipline had
+vanished before that.  For when Discipline and a Republic are wedded
+we shall have the millennium.  Liberty, they cry:  meaning, I may do
+as I like.  Equality:  I am better than you.  Fraternity:  what is
+yours is mine, if I want it.
+
+So they quarrelled over everything, and fought for a place round the
+fire that another had lighted.  They burnt the houses in which they
+had passed a night, though they knew that thousands trudging behind
+them must die for lack of this poor shelter.
+
+At the Beresina they had fought on the bridge like wild animals, and
+those who had horses trod their comrades underfoot, or pushed them
+over the parapet.  Twelve thousand perished on the banks or in the
+river; and sixteen thousand were left behind to the mercy of the
+Cossacks.
+
+At Vilna the people were terrified at the sight of this inhuman
+rabble, which had commanded their admiration on the outward march.
+And the commander, with his staff, crept out of the city at night,
+abandoning sick, wounded, and fighting men.
+
+At Kowno they crowded numbly across the bridge, fighting for
+precedence, when they might have walked at leisure across the ice.
+They were no longer men at all, but dumb and driven animals, who
+fell by the roadside, and were stripped by their comrades before the
+warmth of life had left their limbs.
+
+"Excuse me, comrade?  I thought you were dead," said one, on being
+remonstrated with by a dying man.  And he went on his way
+reluctantly, for he knew that in a few minutes another would snatch
+the booty.  But for the most part they were not so scrupulous.
+
+At first D'Arragon, to whom these horrors were new, attempted to
+help such as appealed to him, but Barlasch laughed at him.
+
+"Yes," he said.  "Take the medallion, and promise to send it to his
+mother.  Holy Heaven--they all have medallions, and they all have
+mothers.  Every Frenchman remembers his mother--when it is too late.
+I will get a cart.  By to-morrow we shall fill it with keepsakes.
+And here is another.  He is hungry.  So am I, comrade.  I come from
+Moscow--bah!"
+
+And so they fought their way through the stream.  They could have
+journeyed by a quicker route--D'Arragon could have steered a course
+across the frozen plain as over a sea--but Charles must necessarily
+be in this stream.  He might be by the wayside.  Any one of these
+pitiable objects, half blind, frost-bitten, with one limb or another
+swinging useless, like a snapped branch, wrapped to the eyes in
+filthy furs--inhuman, horrible--any one of these might be Desiree's
+husband.
+
+They never missed a chance of hearing news.  Barlasch interrupted
+the last message of a dying man to inquire whether he had ever heard
+of Prince Eugene.  It was startling to learn how little they knew.
+The majority of them were quite ignorant of French, and had scarcely
+heard the name of the commander of their division.  Many spoke in a
+language which even Barlasch could not identify.
+
+"His talk is like a coffee-mill," he explained to D'Arragon, "and I
+do not know to what regiment he belonged.  He asked me if I was
+Russki--I!  Then he wanted to hold my hand.  And he went to sleep.
+He will wake among the angels--that parishioner."
+
+Not only had no one heard of Charles Darragon, but few knew the name
+of the commander to whose staff he had been attached in Moscow.
+There was nothing for it but to go on towards Kowno, where it was
+understood temporary head-quarters had been established.
+
+Rapp himself had told D'Arragon that officers had been despatched to
+Kowno to form a base--a sort of rock in the midst of a torrent to
+divert the currents.  There had then been a talk of Tilsit, and
+diverting the stream, or part of it towards Macdonald in the north.
+But D'Arragon knew that Macdonald was likely to be in no better
+plight than Murat; for it was an open secret in Dantzig that Yorck,
+with four-fifths of Macdonald's army, was about to abandon him.
+
+The road to Kowno was not to be mistaken.  On either side of it,
+like fallen landmarks, the dead lay huddled on the snow.  Sometimes
+D'Arragon and Barlasch found the remains of a fire, where, amid the
+ashes, the chains and rings showed that a gun-carriage had been
+burnt.  The trees were cut and scored where, as a forlorn hope, some
+poor imbecile had stripped the bark with the thought that it might
+burn.  Nearly every fire had its grim guardian; for the wounds of
+the injured nearly always mortified when the flesh was melted by the
+warmth.  Once or twice, with their ragged feet in the ashes, a whole
+company had never awakened from their sleep.
+
+Barlasch pessimistically went the round of these bivouacs, but
+rarely found anything worth carrying away.  If he recognized a
+veteran by the grizzled hair straggling out of the rags in which all
+faces were enveloped, or perceived some remnant of a Garde uniform,
+he searched more carefully.
+
+"There may be salt," he said.  And sometimes he found a little.
+They had been on foot since Gumbinnen, because no horse would be
+allowed by starving men to live a day.  They existed from day to day
+on what they found, which was, at the best, frozen horse.  But
+Barlasch ate singularly little.
+
+"One thinks of one's digestion," he said vaguely, and persuaded
+D'Arragon to eat his portion because it would be a sin to throw it
+away.
+
+At length D'Arragon, who was quick enough in understanding rough
+men, said--
+
+"No, I don't want any more.  I will throw it away."
+
+And an hour later, while pretending to be asleep, he saw Barlasch
+get up, and crawl cautiously into the trees where the unsavoury food
+had been thrown.
+
+"Provided," muttered Barlasch one day, "that you keep your health.
+I am an old man.  I could not do this alone."
+
+Which was true, for D'Arragon was carrying all the baggage now.
+
+"We must both keep our health," answered Louis.  "I have eaten worse
+things than horse."
+
+"I saw one yesterday," said Barlasch, with a gesture of disgust; "he
+had three stripes on his arm, too; he was crouching in a ditch
+eating something much worse than horse, mon capitaine.  Bah!  It
+made me sick.  For three sous I would have put my heel on his face.
+And later on at the roadside I saw where he or another had played
+the butcher.  But you saw none of these things, mon capitaine?"
+
+"It was by that winding stream where a farm had been burnt," said
+Louis.
+
+Barlasch glanced at him sideways.
+
+"If we should come to that, mon capitaine . . . . "
+
+"We won't."
+
+They trudged on in silence for some time.  They were off the road
+now, and D'Arragon was steering by dead-reckoning.  Even amid the
+pine-woods, which seemed interminable, they frequently found remains
+of an encampment.  As often as not they found the campers huddled
+over their last bivouac.
+
+"But these," said Barlasch, pointing to what looked like a few
+bundles of old clothes, continuing the conversation where he had
+left it after a long silence, as men learn to do who are together
+day and night in some hard enterprise, "even these have a woman
+dinning the ears of the good God for them, just as we have."
+
+For Barlasch's conception of a Deity could not get further than the
+picture of a great Commander who in times of stress had no leisure
+to see that non-commissioned officers did their best for the rank
+and file.  Indeed, the poor in all lands rather naturally conclude
+that God will think of carriage-people first.
+
+They came within sight of Kowno one evening, after a tiring day over
+snow that glittered in a cloudless sun.  Barlasch sat down wearily
+against a pine tree, when they first caught sight of a distant
+church-tower.  The country is much broken up into little valleys
+here, through which streams find their way to the Niemen.  Each
+river necessitated a rapid descent and an arduous climb over
+slippery snow.
+
+"Voila," said Barlasch.  "That is Kowno.  I am done.  Go on, mon
+capitaine.  I will lie here, and if I am not dead to-morrow morning,
+I will join you."
+
+Louis looked at him with a slow smile.
+
+"I am tired as you," he said.  "We will rest here until the moon
+rises."
+
+Already the bare larches threw shadows three times their own length
+on the snow.  Near at hand it glittered like a carpet of diamonds,
+while the distance was of a pale blue, merging to grey on the
+horizon.  A far-off belt of pines against a sky absolutely cloudless
+suggested infinite space--immeasurable distance.  Nothing was sharp
+and clearly outlined, but hazy, silvery, as seen through a thin
+veil.  The sea would seem to be our earthly picture of infinite
+space, but no sea speaks of distance so clearly as the plain of
+Lithuania--absolutely flat, quite lonely.  The far-off belt of pines
+only leads the eye to a shadow beyond, which is another pine-wood;
+and the traveller walking all day towards it knows that when at
+length he gets there he will see just such another on the far
+horizon.
+
+Louis sat down wearily beside Barlasch.  As far as eye could see,
+they were alone in this grim white world.  They had nothing to say
+to each other.  They sat and watched the sun go down with drawn eyes
+and a queer stolidity which comes to men in great cold, as if their
+souls were numb.
+
+As the sun sank, the shadows turned bluer, and all the snow gleamed
+like a lake.  The silver tints slowly turned to gold; the greys grew
+darker.  The distant lines of pines were almost black now, a
+silhouette against the golden sky.  Near at hand the little
+inequalities in the snow loomed blue, like deeper pools in shallow
+water.
+
+The sun sank very slowly, moving along the horizon almost parallel
+with it towards two bars of golden cloud awaiting it, the bars of
+the West forming a prison to this poor pale captive of the snows.
+The stems of a few silver-birch near at hand were rosy now, and
+suddenly the snow took a similar tint.  At the same moment, a wave
+of cold seemed to sweep across the world.
+
+The sun went down at length, leaving a brownish-red sky.  This, too,
+faded to grey in a few minutes, and a steely cold gripped the world
+as in a vice.
+
+Louis d'Arragon made a sudden effort and rose to his feet, beneath
+which the snow squeaked.
+
+"Come," he said.  "If we stay, we shall fall asleep, and then--"
+
+Barlasch roused himself and looked sleepily at his companion.  He
+had a patch of blue on either cheek.
+
+"Come!" shouted Louis, as if to a deaf man.  "Let us go on to Kowno,
+and find out whether he is alive or dead."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX.  DESIREE'S CHOICE.
+
+
+
+     Our wills and fates do so contrary run,
+     That our devices still are overthrown.
+     Our thoughts are ours, their ends none of our own.
+
+Rapp found himself in a stronghold which was strong in theory only.
+For the frozen river formed the easiest possible approach, instead
+of an insuperable barrier to the enemy.  He had an army which was a
+paper army only.
+
+He had, according to official returns, thirty-five thousand men.  In
+reality a bare eight thousand could be collected to show a face to
+the enemy.  The rest were sick and wounded.  There was no national
+spirit among these men; they hardly had a language in common.  For
+they were men from Africa and Italy, from France, Germany, Poland,
+Spain, and Holland.  The majority of them were recruits, raw and of
+poor physique.  All were fugitives, flying before those dread
+Cossacks whose "hurrah! hurrah!"--the Arabic "kill! kill!"--haunted
+their fitful sleep at night.  They came to Dantzig not to fight, but
+to lie down and rest.  They were the last of the great army--the
+reinforcements dragged to the frontier which many of them had never
+crossed.  For those who had been to Moscow were few and far between.
+The army of Moscow had perished at Malo-Jaroslavetz, at the
+Beresina, in Smolensk and Vilna.
+
+These fugitives had fled to Dantzig for safety; and Rapp in crossing
+the bridge had made a grimace, for he saw that there was no safety
+here.
+
+The fortifications had been merely sketched out.  The ditches were
+full of snow, the rivers were frozen.  All work was at a standstill.
+Dantzig lay at the mercy of the first-comer.
+
+In twenty-four hours every available smith was at work, forging ice-
+axes and picks.  Rapp was going to cut the frozen Vistula and set
+the river free.  The Dantzigers laughed aloud.
+
+"It will freeze again in a night," they said.  And it did.  So Rapp
+set the ice-cutters to work again next day.  He kept boats moving
+day and night in the water, which ran sluggish and thick, like
+porridge, with the desire to freeze and be still.
+
+He ordered the engineers to set to work on the abandoned
+fortifications.  But the ground was hard like granite, and the picks
+sprang back in the worker's grip, jarring his bones, and making not
+so much as a mark on the surface of the earth.
+
+Again the Dantzigers laughed.
+
+"It is frozen three feet down," they said.
+
+The thermometer marked between twenty and thirty degrees of frost
+every night now.  And it was only December--only the beginning of
+the winter.  The Russians were at the Niemen, daily coming nearer.
+Dantzig was full of sick and wounded.  The available troops were
+worn out, frost-bitten, desperate.  There were only a few doctors,
+who were without medical stores; no meat, no vegetables, no spirits,
+no forage.
+
+No wonder the Dantzigers laughed.  Rapp, who had to rely on
+Southerners to obey his orders--Italians, Africans, a few Frenchmen,
+men little used to cold and the hardships of a Northern winter--Rapp
+let them laugh.  He was a medium-sized man, with a bullet-head and a
+round chubby face, a small nose, round eyes, and, if you please,
+side-whiskers.
+
+Never for a moment did he admit that things looked black.  He lit
+enormous bonfires, melted the frozen earth, and built the
+fortifications that had been planned.
+
+"I took counsel," he said, long afterwards, "with two engineer
+officers whose devotion equalled their brilliancy--Colonel Richemont
+and General Campredon."
+
+Soldiers might for all time study with advantage the acts of such
+obscure and almost forgotten men as these.  For, through them,
+Napoleon was now teaching the world that a fortified place might be
+made stronger than any had hitherto suspected.  That he should turn
+round and teach, on the other hand, that a city usually considered
+impregnable could be taken without great loss of life, was only
+characteristic of his splendid genius, which, like a towering tree,
+grew and grew until it fell.
+
+The days were very short now, and it was dark when the sappers--
+whose business it was to keep the ice moving in the river at that
+spot where the Government building-yard abuts the river front to-
+day--were roused from their meditations by a shout on the farther
+bank.
+
+They pushed their clumsy boat through the ice, and soon perceived
+against the snowy distance the outline of a man wrapped, swaddled,
+disguised in the heaped-up clothing so familiar to Eastern Europe at
+this time.  The joke of seeing a grave artilleryman clad in a lady's
+ermine cloak had long since lost its savour for those who dwelt near
+the Moscow road.
+
+"Ah! comrade," said one of the boatmen, an Italian who spoke French
+and had learnt his seamanship on the Mediterranean, by whose waters
+he would never idle again.  "Ah! you are from Moscow?"
+
+"And you, countryman?" replied the new-comer, with a non-committing
+readiness, as he stumbled over the gunwale.
+
+"And you--an old man?" remarked the Italian, with the easy frankness
+of Piedmont.
+
+By way of reply, the new-comer held out one hand roughly swathed in
+cloth, and shook it from side to side slowly, taking exception to
+such personal matters on a short acquaintance.
+
+"A week ago, when I quitted Dantzig on a mission to Kowno," he said,
+with a careless air, "one could cross the Vistula anywhere.  I have
+been walking on the bank for half a league looking for a way across.
+One would think there is a General in Dantzig now."
+
+"There is Rapp," replied the Italian, poling his boat through the
+floating ice.
+
+"He will be glad to see me."
+
+The Italian turned and looked over his shoulder.  Then he gave a
+curt, derisive laugh.
+
+"Barlasch--of the Old Guard!" explained the new-comer, with a
+careless air.
+
+"Never heard of him."
+
+Barlasch pushed up the bandage which he still wore over his left
+eye, in order to get a better sight of this phenomenal ignoramus,
+but he made no comment.
+
+On landing he nodded curtly, at which the boatman made a quick
+gesture and spat.
+
+"You have not the price of a glass in your purse, perhaps," he
+suggested.
+
+Barlasch disappeared in the darkness without deigning a reply.  Half
+an hour later he was on the steps of Sebastian's house in the
+Frauengasse.  On his way through the streets a hundred evidences of
+energy had caught his attention, for many of the houses were
+barricaded, and palisades were built at the end of the streets
+running down towards the river.  The town was busy, and everywhere
+soldiers passed to and fro.  Like Samuel, Barlasch heard the
+bleating of sheep and the lowing of oxen in his ears.
+
+The houses in the Frauengasse were barricaded like others--many of
+the lower windows were built up.  The door of No. 36 was bolted, and
+through the shutters of the upper windows no glimmer of light
+penetrated to the outer darkness of the street.  Barlasch knocked
+and waited.  He thought he could hear surreptitious movements within
+the house.  Again he knocked.
+
+"Who is that?" asked Lisa just within, on the mat.  She must have
+been there all the time.
+
+"Barlasch," he replied.  And the bolts which he, in his knowledge of
+such matters, himself had oiled, were quickly drawn.
+
+Inside he found Lisa, and behind her Mathilde and Desiree.
+
+"Where is the patron?" he asked, turning to bolt the door again.
+
+"He is out, in the town," answered Desiree, in a strained voice.
+"Where are you from?"
+
+"From Kowno."
+
+Barlasch looked from one face to the other.  His own was burnt red,
+and the light of the lamp hanging over his head gleamed on the
+icicles suspended to his eyebrows and ragged whiskers.  In the
+warmth of the house his frozen garments began to melt, and from his
+limbs the water dripped to the floor with a sound like rain.  Then
+he caught sight of Desiree's face.
+
+"He is alive, I tell you that," he said abruptly.  "And well, so far
+as we know.  It was at Kowno that we got news of him.  I have a
+letter."
+
+He opened his cloak, which was stiff like cardboard and creaked when
+he bent the rough cloth.  Under his cloak he wore a Russian
+peasant's sheepskin coat, and beneath that the remains of his
+uniform.
+
+"A dog's country," he muttered, as he breathed on his fingers.
+
+At last he found the letter, and gave it to Desiree.
+
+"You will have to make your choice," he commented, with a grimace
+indicative of a serious situation, "like any other woman.  No doubt
+you will choose wrong."
+
+Desiree went up two steps in order to be nearer the lamp, and they
+all watched her as she opened the letter.
+
+"Is it from Charles?" asked Mathilde, speaking for the first time.
+
+"No," answered Desiree, rather breathlessly.
+
+Barlasch nudged Lisa, indicated his own mouth, and pushed her
+towards the kitchen.  He nodded cunningly to Mathilde, as if to say
+that they were now free to discuss family affairs; and added, with a
+gesture towards his inner man--
+
+"Since last night--nothing."
+
+In a few minutes Desiree, having read the letter twice, handed it to
+her sister.  It was characteristically short.
+
+"We have found a man here," wrote Louis d'Arragon, "who travelled as
+far as Vilna with Charles.  There they parted.  Charles, who was
+ordered to Warsaw on staff work, told his friend that you were in
+Dantzig, and that, foreseeing a siege of the city, he had written to
+you to join him at Warsaw.  This letter has doubtless been lost.  I
+am following Charles to Warsaw, tracing him step by step, and if he
+has fallen ill by the way, as so many have done, shall certainly
+find him.  Barlasch returns to bring you to Thorn, if you elect to
+join Charles.  I will await you at Thorn, and if Charles has
+proceeded, we will follow him to Warsaw."
+
+Barlasch, who had watched Desiree, now followed Mathilde's eyes as
+they passed to and fro over the closely written lines.  As she
+neared the end, and her face, upon which deep shadows had been
+graven by sorrow and suspense, grew drawn and hopeless, he gave a
+curt laugh.
+
+"There were two," he said, "travelling together--the Colonel de
+Casimir and the husband of--of la petite.  They had facilities--name
+of God!--two carriages and an escort.  In the carriages they had
+some of the Emperor's playthings--holy pictures, the imperial loot--
+I know not what.  Besides that, they had some of their own--not furs
+and candlesticks such as we others carried on our backs, but gold
+and jewellery enough to make a man rich all his life."
+
+"How do you know that?" asked Mathilde, a dull light in her eyes.
+
+"I--I know where it came from," replied Barlasch, with an odd smile.
+"Allez! you may take it from me."  And he muttered to himself in the
+patois of the Cotes du Nord.
+
+"And they were safe and well at Vilna?" asked Mathilde.
+
+"Yes--and they had their treasure.  They had good fortune, or else
+they were more clever than other men; for they had the Imperial
+treasure to escort, and could take any man's horse for the carriages
+in which also they had placed their own treasure.  It was Captain
+Darragon who held the appointment, and the other--the Colonel--had
+attached himself to him as volunteer.  For it was at Vilna that the
+last thread of discipline was broken, and every man did as he
+wished."
+
+"They did not come to Kowno?" asked Mathilde, who had a clear mind,
+and that grasp of a situation which more often falls to the lot of
+the duller sex.
+
+"They did not come to Kowno.  They would turn south at Vilna.  It
+was as well.  At Kowno the soldiers had broken into the magazines--
+the brandy was poured out in the streets.  The men were lying there,
+the drunken and the dead all confused together on the snow.  But
+there would be no confusion the next morning; for all would be
+dead."
+
+"Was it at Kowno that you left Monsieur d'Arragon?" asked Desiree,
+in a sharp voice.
+
+"No--no.  We quitted Kowno together, and parted on the heights above
+the town.  He would not trust me--monsieur le marquis--he was afraid
+that I should get at the brandy.  And he was right.  I only wanted
+the opportunity.  He is a strong one--that!"  And Barlasch held up a
+warning hand, as if to make known to all and sundry that it would be
+inadvisable to trifle with Louis d'Arragon.
+
+He drew the icicles one by one from his whiskers with a wry face
+indicative of great agony, and threw them down on the mat.
+
+"Well," he said, after a pause, to Desiree, "have you made your
+choice?"
+
+Desiree was reading the letter again, and before she could answer, a
+quick knock on the front door startled them all.  Barlasch's face
+broke into that broad smile which was only called forth by the
+presence of danger.
+
+"Is it the patron?" he asked in a whisper, with his hand on the
+heavy bolts affixed by that pious Hanseatic merchant who held that
+if God be in the house there is no need of watchmen.
+
+"Yes," answered Mathilde.  "Open quickly."
+
+Sebastian came in with a light step.  He was like a man long saddled
+with a burden of which he had at length been relieved.
+
+"Ah!  What news?" he asked, when he recognised Barlasch.
+
+"Nothing that you do not know already, monsieur," replied Barlasch,
+"except that the husband of Mademoiselle is well and on the road to
+Warsaw.  Here--read that."
+
+And he took the letter from Desiree's hand.
+
+"I knew he would come back safely," said Desiree; and that was all.
+
+Sebastian read the letter in one quick glance--and then fell to
+thinking.
+
+"It is time to quit Dantzig," said Barlasch quietly, as if he had
+divined the old man's thoughts.  "I know Rapp.  There will be
+trouble--here, on the Vistula."
+
+But Sebastian dismissed the suggestion with a curt shake of the
+head.
+
+Barlasch's attention had been somewhat withdrawn by a smell of
+cooking meat, to which he opened his nostrils frankly and noisily
+after the manner of a dog.
+
+"Then it remains," he said, looking towards the kitchen, "for
+Mademoiselle to make her choice."
+
+"There is no choice," replied Desiree, "I shall be ready to go with
+you--when you have eaten."
+
+"Good," said Barlasch, and the word applied as well to Lisa, who was
+beckoning to him.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI.  ON THE WARSAW ROAD.
+
+
+
+     Oft expectation fails, and most oft there
+     Where it most promises; and oft it hits
+     Where hope is coldest and despair most sits.
+
+Love, it is said, is blind.  But hatred is as bad.  In Antoine
+Sebastian hatred of Napoleon had not only blinded eyes far-seeing
+enough in earlier days, but it had killed many natural affections.
+Love, too, may easily die--from a surfeit or a famine.  Hatred never
+dies; it only sleeps.
+
+Sebastian's hatred was all awake now.  It was aroused by the
+disasters that had befallen Napoleon; of which disasters the Russian
+campaign was only one small part.  For he who stands above all his
+compeers must expect them to fall upon him should he stumble.
+Napoleon had fallen, and a hundred foes who had hitherto nursed
+their hatred in a hopeless silence were alert to strike a blow
+should he descend within their reach.
+
+When whole empires had striven in vain to strike, how could a mere
+association of obscure men hope to record its blow?  The Tugendbund
+had begun humbly enough; and Napoleon, with that unerring foresight
+which raised him above all other men, had struck at its base.  For
+an association in which kings and cobblers stand side by side on an
+equal footing must necessarily be dangerous to its foes.
+
+Sebastian was not carried off his feet by the great events of the
+last six months.  They only rendered him steadier.  For he had
+waited a lifetime.  It is only a sudden success that dazzles.  Long
+waiting nearly always ensures a wise possession.
+
+Sebastian, like all men absorbed in a great thought, was neglectful
+of his social and domestic obligations.  Has it not been shown that
+he allowed Mathilde and Desiree to support him by giving dancing
+lessons?  But he was not the ordinary domestic tyrant who is
+familiar to all--the dignified father of a family who must have the
+best of everything, whose teaching to his offspring takes the form
+of an unconscious and solemn warning.  He did not ask the best; he
+hardly noticed what was offered to him; and it was not owing to his
+demand, but to that feminine spirit of self-sacrifice which has
+ruined so many men, that he fared better than his daughters.
+
+If he thought about it at all, he probably concluded that Mathilde
+and Desiree were quite content to give their time and thought to the
+support of himself--not as their father, but as the motive power of
+the Tugendbund in Prussia.  Many greater men have made the same
+mistake, and quite small men with a great name make it every day,
+thinking complacently that it is a privilege to some woman to
+minister to their wants while they produce their immortal pictures
+or deathless books; whereas, the woman would tend him as carefully
+were he a crossing-sweeper, and is only following the dictates of an
+instinct which is loftier than his highest thought and more
+admirable than his most astounding work of art.
+
+Barlasch had not lived so long in the Frauengasse without learning
+the domestic economy of Sebastian's household.  He knew that
+Desiree, like many persons with kind blue eyes, shaped her own
+course through life, and abided by the result with a steadfastness
+not usually attributed to the light-hearted.  He concluded that he
+must make ready to take the road again before midnight.  He
+therefore gave a careful and businesslike attention to the simple
+meal set before him by Lisa; and, looking up over his plate, he saw
+for the second time in his life Sebastian hurrying into his own
+kitchen.
+
+Barlasch half rose, and then, in obedience to a gesture from
+Sebastian, or remembering perhaps the sturdy Republicanism which he
+had not learnt until middle-age, he sat down again, fork in hand.
+
+"You are prepared to accompany Madame Darragon to Thorn?" inquired
+Sebastian, inviting his guest by a gesture to make himself at home--
+scarcely a necessary thought in the present instance.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And how do you propose to make the journey?"
+
+This was so unlike Sebastian's usual method, so far from his lax
+comprehension of a father's duty, that Barlasch paused and looked at
+him with suspicion.  With the back of his hand he pushed up the
+unkempt hair which obscured his eyes.  This unusual display of
+parental anxiety required looking into.
+
+"From what I could see in the streets," he answered, "the General
+will not stand in the way of women and useless mouths who wish to
+quit Dantzig."
+
+"That is possible; but he will not go so far as to provide horses."
+
+Barlasch gave his companion a quick glance, and returned to his
+supper, eating with an exaggerated nonchalance, as if he were alone.
+
+"Will you provide them?" he asked abruptly, at length, without
+looking up.
+
+"I can get them for you, and can ensure you relays by the way."
+
+Barlasch cut a piece of meat very carefully, and, opening his mouth
+wide, looked at Sebastian over the orifice.
+
+"On one condition," pursued Sebastian quietly; "that you deliver a
+letter for me in Thorn.  I make no pretence; if it is found on you,
+you will be shot."
+
+Barlasch smiled pleasantly.
+
+"The risks are very great," said Sebastian, tapping his snuff-box
+reflectively.
+
+"I am not an officer to talk of my honour," answered Barlasch, with
+a laugh.  "And as for risk"--he paused and put half a potato into
+his mouth--"it is Mademoiselle I serve," concluded this uncouth
+knight with a curt simplicity.
+
+So they set out at ten o'clock that night in a light sleigh on high
+runners, such as may be seen on any winter day in Poland down to the
+present time.  The horses were as good as any in Dantzig at this
+date, when a horse was more costly than his master.  The moon,
+sailing high overhead through fleecy clouds, found it no hard task
+to light a world all snow and ice.  The streets of Dantzig were
+astir with life and the rumble of waggons.  At first there were
+difficulties, and Barlasch explained airily that he was not so
+accomplished a whip in the streets as in the open country.
+
+"But never fear," he added.  "We shall get there, soon enough."
+
+At the city gates there was, as Barlasch had predicted, no objection
+made to the departure of a young girl and an old man.  Others were
+quitting Dantzig by the same gate, on foot, in sleighs and carts;
+but all turned westward at the cross-roads and joined the stream of
+refugees hurrying forward to Germany.  Barlasch and Desiree were
+alone on the wide road that runs southward across the plain towards
+Dirschau.  The air was very cold and still.  On the snow, hard and
+dry like white dust, the runners of the sleigh sang a song on one
+note, only varied from time to time by a drop of several octaves as
+they passed over a culvert or some hollow in the road, after which
+the high note, like the sound of escaping steam, again held sway.
+The horses fell into a long steady trot, their feet beating the
+ground with a regular, sleep-inducing thud.  They were harnessed
+well forward to a very long pole, and covered the ground with free
+strides, unhampered by any thought of their heels.  The snow
+pattered against the cloth stretched like a wind-sail from their
+flanks to the rising front of the sleigh.
+
+Barlasch sat upright, a thick motionless figure, four-square to the
+cutting wind.  He drove with one hand at a time, sitting on the
+other to restore circulation between whiles.  It was impossible to
+distinguish the form of his garments, for he was wrapped round in a
+woollen shawl like a mummy, showing only his eyes beneath the ragged
+fur of a sheepskin cap upon which the rime caused by the warmth of
+the horses and his own breath had frozen like a coating of frosted
+silver.
+
+Desiree was huddled down beside him, with her head bent forward so
+as to protect her face from the wind, which seared like a hot iron.
+She wore a hood of white fur lined with a darker fur, and when she
+lifted her face only her eyes, bright and wakeful, were visible.
+
+"If you are warm, you may go to sleep," said Barlasch in a mumbling
+voice, for his face was drawn tight and his lips stiffened by the
+cold.  "But if you shiver, you must stay awake."
+
+But Desiree seemed to have no wish for sleep.  Whenever Barlasch
+leant forward to peer beneath her hood she looked round at him with
+wakeful eyes.  Whenever, to see if she were still awake, he gave her
+an unceremonious nudge, she nudged back again instantly.  As the
+night wore on, she grew more wakeful.  When they halted at a wayside
+inn, which must have been minutely described to Barlasch by
+Sebastian, and Desiree accepted the innkeeper's offer of a cup of
+coffee by the fire while fresh horses were being put into harness,
+she was wide awake and looked at Barlasch with a reckless laugh as
+he shook the rime from his eyebrows.  In response he frowningly
+scrutinized as much of her face as he could see, and shook his head
+disapprovingly.
+
+"You laugh when there is nothing to laugh at," he said grimly.
+"Foolish.  It makes people wonder what is in your mind."
+
+"There is nothing in my mind," she answered gaily.
+
+"Then there is something in your heart, and that is worse!" said
+Barlasch, which made Desiree look at him doubtfully.
+
+They had done forty miles with the same horses, and were nearly
+halfway.  For some hours the road had followed the course of the
+Vistula on the high tableland above the river, and would so continue
+until they reached Thorn.
+
+"You must sleep," said Barlasch curtly, when they were once more on
+the road.  She sat silent beside him for an hour.  The horses were
+fresh, and covered the ground at a great pace.  Barlasch was no
+driver, but he was skilful with the horses, and husbanded their
+strength at every hill.
+
+"If we go on like this, when shall we arrive?" asked Desiree
+suddenly.
+
+"By eight o'clock, if all goes well."
+
+"And we shall find Monsieur Louis d'Arragon awaiting us at Thorn?"
+
+Barlasch shrugged his shoulders doubtfully.
+
+"He said he would be there," he muttered, and, turning in his seat,
+he looked down at her with some contempt.
+
+"That is like a woman," he said.  "They think all men are fools
+except one, and that one is only to be compared with the bon Dieu."
+
+Desiree could not have heard the remark, for she made no answer and
+sat silent, leaning more and more heavily against her companion.  He
+changed the reins to his other hand, and drove with it for an hour
+after all feeling had left it.  Desiree was asleep.  She was still
+sleeping when, in the dim light of a late dawn, Barlasch saw the
+distant tower of Thorn Cathedral.
+
+They were no longer alone on the road now, but passed a number of
+heavy market-sleighs bringing produce and wood to the town.
+Barlasch had been in Thorn before.  Desiree was still sleeping when
+he turned the horses into the crowded yard of the "Drei Kronen."
+The sleighs and carriages were packed side by side as in a
+warehouse, but the stables were empty.  No eager host came out to
+meet the travellers.  The innkeepers of Thorn had long ceased to
+give themselves that trouble.  For the city was on the direct route
+of the retreat, and few who got so far had any money left.
+
+Slowly and painfully Barlasch unwound himself and disentangled his
+legs.  He tried first one and then the other, as if uncertain
+whether he could walk.  Then he staggered numbly across the yard to
+the door of the inn.
+
+A few minutes later Desiree woke up.  She was in a room warmed by a
+great white stove and dimly lighted by candles.  Some one was
+pulling off her gloves and feeling her hands to make sure that they
+were not frost-bitten.  She looked sleepily at a white coffee-pot
+standing on the table near the candles; then her eyes, still
+uncomprehending, rested on the face of the man who was loosening her
+hood, which was hard with rime and ice.  He had his back to the
+candles, and was half-hidden by the collar of his fur coat, which
+met the cap pressed down over his ears.
+
+He turned towards the table to lay aside her gloves, and the light
+fell on his face.  Desiree was wideawake in an instant, and Louis
+d'Arragon, hearing her move, turned anxiously to look at her again.
+Neither spoke for a minute.  Barlasch was holding his numbed hand
+against the stove, and was grinding his teeth and muttering at the
+pain of the restored circulation.
+
+Desiree shook the icicles from her hood, and they rattled like hail
+on the bare floor.  Her hair, all tumbled round her face, caught the
+light of the candles.  Her eyes were bright and the colour was in
+her cheeks.  D'Arragon glanced at her with a sudden look of relief,
+and then turned to Barlasch.  He took the numbed hand and felt it;
+then he held a candle close to it.  Two of the fingers were quite
+white, and Barlasch made a grimace when he saw them.  D'Arragon
+began rubbing at once, taking no notice of his companion's moans and
+complaints.
+
+Without desisting, he looked over his shoulder towards Desiree, but
+not actually at her face.
+
+"I heard last night," he said, "that the two carriages are standing
+in an inn-yard three leagues beyond this on the Warsaw road.  I have
+traced them step by step from Kowno.  My informant tells me that the
+escort has deserted, and that the officer in charge, Colonel
+Darragon, was going on alone, with the two drivers, when he was
+taken ill.  He is nearly well again, and hopes to continue his
+journey to-morrow or the next day."
+
+Desiree nodded her head to signify that she had heard and
+understood.  Barlasch gave a cry of pain, and withdrew his hand with
+a jerk.
+
+"Enough, enough!" he said.  "You hurt me.  The life is returning
+now; a drop of brandy perhaps--"
+
+"There is no brandy in Thorn," said D'Arragon, turning towards the
+table.  "There is only coffee."
+
+He busied himself with the cups, and did not look at Desiree when he
+spoke again.
+
+"I have secured two horses," he said, "to enable you to proceed at
+once, if you are able to.  But if you would rather rest here to-day-
+-"
+
+"Let us go on at once," interrupted Desiree hastily.
+
+Barlasch, crouching against the stove, glanced from one to the other
+beneath his heavy brows, wondering, perhaps, why they avoided
+looking at each other.
+
+"You will wait here," said D'Arragon, turning towards him, "until--
+until I return."
+
+"Yes," was the answer.  "I will lie on the floor here and sleep.  I
+have had enough.  I--"
+
+Louis left the room to give the necessary orders.  When he returned
+in a few minutes, Barlasch was asleep on the floor, and Desiree had
+tied on her hood again, which concealed her face.  He drank a cup of
+coffee and ate some dry bread absent-mindedly, in silence.
+
+The sound of bells, feebly heard through the double windows, told
+them that the horses were being harnessed.
+
+"Are you ready?" asked D'Arragon, who had not sat down; and in
+response, Desiree, standing near the stove, went towards the door,
+which he held open for her to pass out.  As she passed him, she
+glanced at his face, and winced.
+
+In the sleigh she looked up at him as if expecting him to speak.  He
+was looking straight in front of him.  There was, after all, nothing
+to be said.  She could see his steady eyes between his high collar
+and the fur cap.  They were hard and unflinching.  The road was
+level now, and the snow beaten to a gleaming track like ice.
+D'Arragon put the horses to a gallop at the town gate, and kept them
+at it.
+
+In half an hour he turned towards her and pointed with his whip to a
+roof half hidden by some thin pines.
+
+"That is the inn," he said.
+
+In the inn yard he indicated with his whip two travelling-carriages
+standing side by side.
+
+"Colonel Darragon is here?" he said to the cringing Jew who came to
+meet them; and the innkeeper led the way upstairs.  The house was a
+miserable one, evil-smelling, sordid.  The Jew pointed to a door,
+and, cringing again, left them.
+
+Desiree made a gesture telling Louis to go in first, which he did at
+once.  The room was littered with trunks and cases.  All the
+treasure had been brought into the sick man's chamber for greater
+safety.
+
+On a narrow bed near the window a man lay huddled on his side.  He
+turned and looked over his shoulder, showing a haggard face with a
+ten-days' beard on it.  He looked from one to the other in silence.
+
+It was Colonel de Casimir.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII.  THROUGH THE SHOALS.
+
+
+
+     I see my way, as birds their trackless way.
+
+De Casimir had never seen Louis d'Arragon, and yet some dim
+resemblance to his cousin must have introduced the new-comer to a
+conscience not quite easy.
+
+"You seek me, Monsieur," he asked, not having recognized Desiree,
+who stood behind her companion, in her furs.
+
+"I seek Colonel Darragon, and was told that we should find him in
+this room."
+
+"May I ask why you seek him in this rather unceremonious manner?"
+asked De Casimir, with the ready insolence of his calling and his
+age.
+
+"Because I am his cousin," replied Louis quietly, "and Madame is his
+wife."
+
+Desiree came forward, her face colourless.  She caught her breath,
+but made no attempt to speak.
+
+De Casimir tried to lift himself on his elbows.
+
+"Ah! madame," he said.  "You see me in a sorry state.  I have been
+very ill."  And he made a gesture with one hand, begging her to
+overlook his unkempt appearance and the disorder of his room.
+
+"Where is Charles?" asked Desiree curtly.  She had suddenly realized
+how intensely she had always disliked De Casimir, and distrusted
+him.
+
+"Has he not returned to Dantzig?" was the ready answer.  "He should
+have been there a week ago.  We parted at Vilna.  He was exhausted--
+a mere question of over-fatigue--and at his request I left him there
+to recover and to pursue his way to Dantzig, where he knew you would
+be awaiting him."
+
+He paused and looked from one to the other with quick and furtive
+eyes.  He felt himself easily a match for them in quickness of
+perception, in rapid thought, in glib speech.  Both were dumb--he
+could not guess why.  But there was a steadiness in D'Arragon's eyes
+which rarely goes with dulness of wit.  This was a man who could be
+quick at will--a man to be reckoned with.
+
+"You are wondering why I travel under your cousin's name, Monsieur,"
+said De Casimir, with a friendly smile.
+
+"Yes," returned Louis, without returning the smile.
+
+"It is simple enough," explained the sick man.  "At Vilna we found
+all discipline relaxed.  There were no longer any regiments.  There
+was no longer staff.  There was no longer an army.  Every man did as
+he thought best.  Many, as you know, elected to await the Russians
+at Vilna, rather than attempt to journey farther.  Your cousin had
+been given the command of the escort which has now filtered away,
+like every other corps.  He was to conduct back to Paris two
+carriages laden with imperial treasure and certain papers of value.
+Charles did not want to go back to Paris.  He wished most naturally
+to return to Dantzig.  I, on the other hand, desired to go to
+France; and there place my sword once more at the Emperor's service.
+What more simple than to change places?"
+
+"And names," suggested D'Arragon, without falling into De Casimir's
+easy and friendly manner.
+
+"For greater security in passing through Poland and across the
+frontier," explained De Casimir readily.  "Once in France--and I
+hope to be there in a week--I shall report the matter to the Emperor
+as it really happened:  namely, that, owing to Colonel Darragon's
+illness, he transferred his task to me at Vilna.  The Emperor will
+be indifferent, so long as the order has been carried out."
+
+De Casimir turned to Desiree as likely to be more responsive than
+this dark-eyed stranger, who listened with so disconcerting a lack
+of comment or sympathy.
+
+"So you see, madame," he said, "Charles will still get the credit
+for having carried out his most difficult task, and no harm is
+done."
+
+"When did you leave Charles at Vilna?" asked she.
+
+De Casimir lay back on the pillow in an attitude which betrayed his
+weakness and exhaustion.  He looked at the ceiling with lustreless
+eyes.
+
+"It must have been a fortnight ago," he said at length.  "I was
+trying to count the days.  We have lost all account of dates since
+quitting Moscow.  One day has been like another--and all, terrible.
+Believe me, madame, it has always been in my mind that you were
+awaiting the return of your husband at Dantzig.  I spared him all I
+could.  A dozen times we saved each other's lives."
+
+In six words Desiree could have told him all she knew:  that he was
+a spy who had betrayed to death and exile many Dantzigers whose
+hospitality had been extended to him as a Polish officer; that
+Charles was a traitor who had gained access to her father's house in
+order to watch him--though he had honestly fallen in love with her.
+He was in love with her still, and he was her husband.  It was this
+thought that broke into her sleep at night, that haunted her waking
+hours.
+
+She glanced at Louis d'Arragon, and held her peace.
+
+"Then, Monsieur," he said, "you have every reason to suppose that if
+Madame returns to Dantzig now, she will find her husband there?"
+
+De Casimir looked at D'Arragon, and hesitated for an instant.  They
+both remembered afterwards that moment of uncertainty.
+
+"I have every reason to suppose it," replied De Casimir at length,
+speaking in a low voice, as if fearful of being overheard.
+
+Louis waited a moment, and glanced at Desiree, who, however, had
+evidently nothing more to say.
+
+"Then we will not trouble you farther," he said, going towards the
+door, which he held open for Desiree to pass out.  He was following
+her when De Casimir called him back.
+
+"Monsieur," cried the sick man, "Monsieur, one moment, if you can
+spare it."
+
+Louis came back.  They looked at each other in silence while they
+heard Desiree descend the stairs and speak in German to the
+innkeeper who had been waiting there.
+
+"I will be quite frank with you," said De Casimir, in that voice of
+confidential friendliness which so rarely failed in its effect.
+"You know that Madame Darragon has an elder sister, Mademoiselle
+Mathilde Sebastian?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+De Casimir raised himself on his elbows again, with an effort, and
+gave a short, half shamefaced laugh which was quite genuine.  It was
+odd that Mathilde and he, who had walked most circumspectly, should
+both have been tripped up, as it were, by love.
+
+"Bah!" he said, with a gesture dismissing the subject, "I cannot
+tell you more.  It is a woman's secret, Monsieur, not mine.  Will
+you deliver a letter for me in Dantzig, that is all I ask?"
+
+"I will give it to Madame Darragon to give to Mademoiselle Mathilde,
+if you like; I am not returning to Dantzig," replied Louis.  But de
+Casimir shook his head.
+
+"I am afraid that will not do," he said doubtfully.  "Between
+sisters, you understand--"
+
+And he was no doubt right; this man of quick perception.  Is it not
+from our nearest relative that our dearest secret is usually
+withheld?
+
+"You cannot find another messenger?" asked De Casimir, and the
+anxiety in his face was genuine enough.
+
+"I can--if you wish it."
+
+"Ah, Monsieur, I shall not forget it!  I shall never forget it,"
+said the sick man quickly and eagerly.  "The letter is there,
+beneath that sabretasche.  It is sealed and addressed."
+
+Louis found the letter, and went towards the door, as he placed it
+in his pocket.
+
+"Monsieur," said De Casimir, stopping him again.  "Your name, if I
+may ask it, so that I may remember a countryman who has done me so
+great a service."
+
+"I am not a countryman; I am an Englishman," replied Louis.  "My
+name is Louis d'Arragon."
+
+"Ah! I know.  Charles has told me, Monsieur le--"
+
+But D'Arragon heard no more, for he closed the door behind him.
+
+He found Desiree awaiting him in the entrance hall of the inn, where
+a fire of pine-logs burnt in an open chimney.  The walls and low
+ceiling were black with smoke, the little windows were covered with
+ice an inch thick.  It was twilight in this quiet room, and would
+have been dark but for the leaping flames of the fire.
+
+"You will go back to Dantzig," he asked, "at once?"
+
+He carefully avoided looking at her, though he need not have feared
+that she would have allowed her eyes to meet his.  And thus they
+stood, looking downward to the fire--alone in a world that heeded
+them not, and would forget them in a week--and made their choice of
+a life.
+
+"Yes," she answered.
+
+He stood thinking for a moment.  He was quite practical and matter-
+of-fact; and had the air of a man of action rather than of one who
+deals in thoughts, and twists them hither and thither so that good
+is made to look ridiculous, and bad is tricked out with a fine new
+name.  He frowned as he looked at the fire with eyes that flitted
+from one object to another, as men's eyes do who think of action and
+not of thought.  This was the sailor--second to none in the shallow
+northern sea, where all marks had been removed, and every light
+extinguished--accustomed to facing danger and avoiding it, to
+foresee remote contingencies and provide against them, day and
+night, week in, week out; a sailor, careful and intrepid.  He had
+the air of being capable of that concentration without which no man
+can hope to steer a clear course at all.
+
+"The horses that brought you from Marienwerder will not be fit for
+the road till to-morrow morning," he said.  "I will take you back to
+Thorn at once, and--leave you there with Barlasch."
+
+He glanced towards her, and she nodded, as if acknowledging the
+sureness and steadiness of the hand at the helm.
+
+"You can start early to-morrow morning, and be in Dantzig to-morrow
+night."
+
+They stood side by side in silence for some minutes.  He was still
+thinking of her journey--of the dangers and the difficulties of that
+longer journey through life without landmark or light to guide her.
+
+"And you?" she asked curtly.
+
+He did not reply at once but busied himself with his ponderous fur
+coat, which he buttoned, as if bracing himself for the start.
+Beneath her lashes she looked sideways at the deliberate hands and
+the lean strong face, burnt to a red-brown by sun and snow, half
+hidden in the fur collar of his worn and weather-beaten coat.
+
+"Konigsberg," he answered, "and Riga."
+
+A light passed through her watching eyes, usually so kind and gay;
+like the gleam of jealousy.
+
+"Your ship?" she asked sharply.
+
+"Yes," he answered, as the innkeeper came to tell them that their
+sleigh awaited them.
+
+It was snowing now, and a whistling, fitful wind swept down the
+valley of the Vistula from Poland and the far Carpathians which made
+the travellers crouch low in the sleigh and rendered talk
+impossible, had there been anything to say.  But there was nothing.
+
+They found Barlasch asleep where they had left him in the inn at
+Thorn, on the floor against the stove.  He roused himself with the
+quickness and completeness of one accustomed to brief and broken
+rest, and stood up shaking himself in his clothes, like a dog with a
+heavy coat.  He took no notice of D'Arragon, but looked at Desiree
+with questioning eyes.
+
+"It was not the Captain?" he asked.
+
+And Desiree shook her head.  Louis was standing near the door giving
+orders to the landlady of the inn--a kindly Pomeranian, clean and
+slow--for Desiree's comfort till the next morning.
+
+Barlasch went close to Desiree, and, nudging her arm with
+exaggerated cunning, whispered--
+
+"Who was it?"
+
+"Colonel de Casimir."
+
+"With the two carriages and the treasure from Moscow?" asked
+Barlasch, watching Louis out of the corner of one eye, to make sure
+that he did not hear.  It did not matter whether he heard or not,
+but Barlasch came of a peasant stock that always speaks of money in
+a whisper.  And when Desiree nodded, he cut short the conversation.
+
+The hostess came forward to tell Desiree that her room was ready,
+kindly suggesting that the "gnadiges Fraulein" must need sleep and
+rest.  Desiree knew that Louis would go on to Konigsberg at once.
+She wondered whether she should ever see him again--long afterwards,
+perhaps, when all this would seem like a dream.  Barlasch, breathing
+noisily on his frost-bitten fingers, was watching them.  Desiree
+shook hands with Louis in an odd silence, and, turning on her heel,
+followed the woman out of the room without looking back.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII.  AGAINST THE STREAM.
+
+
+
+     Wo viel Licht ist, ist starker Schatten.
+
+In the mean time the last of the Great Army had reached the Niemen,
+that narrow winding river in its ditch-like bed sunk below the level
+of the tableland, to which six months earlier the greatest captain
+this world has ever seen rode alone, and, coming back to his
+officers, said--
+
+"Here we cross."
+
+Four hundred thousand men had crossed--a bare eighty thousand lived
+to pass the bridge again.  Twelve hundred cannons had been left
+behind, nearly a thousand in the hands of the enemy, and the
+remainder buried or thrown into those dull rivers whose slow waters
+flow over them to this day.  One hundred and twenty-five thousand
+officers and men had been killed in battle, another hundred thousand
+had perished by cold and disaster at the Beresina or other rivers
+where panic seized the fugitives.
+
+Forty-eight generals had been captured by the Russians, three
+thousand officers, one hundred and ninety thousand men, swallowed by
+the silent white Empire of the North and no more seen.
+
+As the retreat neared Vilna the cold had increased, killing men as
+the first cold of an English winter kills flies.  And when the
+French quitted Vilna, the Russians were glad enough to seek its
+shelter, Kutusoff creeping in with forty thousand men, all that
+remained to him of two hundred thousand.  He could not carry on the
+pursuit, but sent forward a handful of Cossacks to harry the hare-
+brained few who called themselves the rearguard.  He was an old man,
+nearly worn out, with only three months more to live--but he had
+done his work.
+
+Ney--the bravest of the brave--left alone in Russia at the last with
+seven hundred foreign recruits, men picked from here and there,
+called in from the highways and hedges to share the glory of the
+only Marshal who came back from Moscow with a name untarnished--Ney
+and Girard, musket in hand, were the last to cross the bridge,
+shouting defiance at their Cossack foes, who, when they had hounded
+the last of the French across the frontier, flung themselves down on
+the bloodstained snow to rest.
+
+All along the banks of the Vistula, from Konigsberg and Dantzig up
+to Warsaw--that slow river which at the last call shall assuredly
+give up more dead than any other--the fugitives straggled homewards.
+For the Russians paused at their own frontier, and Prussia was still
+nominally the friend of France.  She had still to wear the mask for
+three long months when she should at last openly side with Russia,
+only to be beaten again by Napoleon.
+
+Murat was at Konigsberg with the Imperial staff, left in supreme
+command by the Emperor, and already thinking of his own sunny
+kingdom of the Mediterranean, and the ease and the glory of it.  In
+a few weeks he, too, must tarnish his name.
+
+"I make over the command to you," he said to Prince Eugene; and
+Napoleon's step-son made an answer which shows, as Eugene showed
+again and again, that contact with a great man makes for greatness.
+
+"You cannot make it over to me," he replied.  "Only the Emperor can
+do that.  You can run away in the night, and the supreme command
+will devolve on me the next morning."
+
+And what Murat did is no doubt known to the learned reader.
+
+Macdonald, abandoned by Yorck with the Prussian contingent, in great
+peril, alone in the north, was retreating with the remains of the
+Tenth Army Corps, wondering whether Konigsberg or Dantzig would
+still be French when he reached them.  On his heels was
+Wittgenstein, in touch with St. Petersburg and the Emperor
+Alexander, communicating with Kutusoff at Vilna.  And Macdonald,
+like the Scotchman and the Frenchman that he was, turned at a
+critical moment and rent Wittgenstein.  Here was another bulldog in
+that panic-stricken pack, who turned and snarled and fought while
+his companions slunk homewards with their tails between their legs.
+There were three of such breed--Ney and Macdonald, and Prince Eugene
+de Beauharnais.
+
+Napoleon was in Paris, getting together in wild haste the new army
+with which he was yet to frighten Europe into fits.  And Rapp,
+doggedly fortifying his frozen city, knew that he was to hold
+Dantzig at any cost--a remote, far-thrown outpost on the Northern
+sea, cut off from all help, hundreds of miles from the French
+frontier, nearly a thousand miles from Paris.
+
+At Marienwerder, Barlasch and Desiree found themselves in the midst
+of that bustle and confusion which attends the arrival or departure
+of an army corps.  The majority of the men were young and of a dark
+skin.  They seemed gay, and called out salutations to which Barlasch
+replied curtly enough.
+
+"They are Italians," said he to his companion; "I know their talk
+and their manners.  To you and me, who come from the North, they are
+like children.  See that one who is dancing.  It is some fete.  What
+is to-day?"
+
+"It is New Year's Day," replied Desiree.
+
+"New Year's Day," echoed Barlasch.  "Good.  And we have been on the
+road since six o'clock; and I, who have forgotten to wish you--"  He
+paused and called cheerily to the horses, which had covered more
+than forty miles since leaving their stable at Thorn.  "Bon Dieu!"
+he said in a lower tone, glancing at her beneath the ice-bound rim
+of his fur cap, "Bon Dieu--what am I to wish you, I wonder?"
+
+Desiree did not answer, but smiled a little and looked straight in
+front of her.
+
+Barlasch made a movement of the shoulders and eyebrows indicative of
+a hidden anger.
+
+"We are friends," he asked suddenly, "you and I?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"We have been friends since--that day--when you were married?"
+
+"Yes," answered Desiree.
+
+"Then between friends," said Barlasch, gruffly; "it is not necessary
+to smile--like that--when it is tears that are there."
+
+Desiree laughed.
+
+"Would you have me weep?" she asked.
+
+"It would hurt one less," said Barlasch, attending to his horses.
+They were in the town now, and the narrow streets were crowded.
+Many sick and wounded were dragging themselves wearily along.  A few
+carts, drawn by starving horses, went slowly down the hill.  But
+there was some semblance of order, and thus men had the air and
+carriage of soldiers under discipline.  Barlasch was quick to see
+it.
+
+"It is the Fourth Corps.  The Viceroy's army.  They have done well.
+He is a soldier, who commands them.  Ah!  There is one I know."
+
+He threw the reins to Desiree, and in a moment he was out on the
+snow.  A man, as old, it would seem, as himself, in uniform and
+carrying a musket, was marching past with a few men who seemed to be
+under his orders, though his uniform was long past recognition.  He
+did not perceive, for some minutes, that Barlasch was coming towards
+him, and then the process of recognition was slow.  Finally, he laid
+aside his musket, and the two old men gravely kissed each other.
+
+Quite forgetful of Desiree, they stood talking together for twenty
+minutes.  Then they gravely embraced once more, and Barlasch
+returned to the sleigh.  He took the reins, and urged the horses up
+the hill without commenting on his encounter, but Desiree could see
+that he had heard news.
+
+The inn was outside the town, on the road that follows the Vistula
+northwards to Dirschau and Dantzig.  The horses were tired, and
+stumbled on the powdery snow which was heavy, like sand, and of a
+sandy colour.  Here and there, by the side of the road, were great
+stains of blood and the remains of a horse that had been killed, and
+eaten raw.  The faces of many of the men were smeared with blood,
+which had dried on their cheeks and caked there.  Nearly all were
+smoke-grimed and had sore eyes.
+
+At last Barlasch spoke, with the decisive air of one who has finally
+drawn up a course of action in a difficult position.
+
+"He comes from my own country, that man.  You heard us?  We spoke
+together in our patois.  I shall not see him again.  He has a
+catarrh.  When he coughs there is blood.  Alas!"
+
+Desiree glanced at the rugged face half turned away from her.  She
+was not naturally heartless; but she quite forgot to sympathize with
+the elderly soldier who had caught a cold on the retreat from
+Moscow; for his friend's grief lacked conviction.  Barlasch had
+heard news which he had decided to keep to himself.
+
+"Has he come from Vilna?" asked Desiree.
+
+"From Vilna--oh yes.  They are all from Vilna."
+
+"And he had no news"--persisted she, "of--Captain Darragon?"
+
+"News--oh no!  He is a common soldier, and knows nothing of the
+officers on the staff.  We are the same--he and I--poor animals in
+the ranks.  A little gentleman rides up, all sabretasche and gold
+lace.  It is an officer of the staff.  'Go down into the valley and
+get shot,' he says.  And--bon jour! we go.  No--no.  He has no news,
+my poor comrade."
+
+They were at the inn now, and found the huge yard still packed with
+sleighs and disabled carriages, and the stables ostentatiously
+empty.
+
+"Go in," said Barlasch; "and tell them who your father is--say
+Antoine Sebastian and nothing else.  I would do it myself, but when
+it is so cold as that, the lips are stiff, and I cannot speak German
+properly.  They would find out that I am French, and it is no good
+being French now.  My comrade told me that in Konigsberg, Murat
+himself was ill-received by the burgomaster and such city stuff as
+that."
+
+It was as Barlasch foretold.  For at the name of Antoine Sebastian
+the innkeeper found horses--in another stable.
+
+It would take a few minutes, he said, to fetch them, and in the
+meantime there were coffee and some roast meat--his own dinner.
+Indeed, he could not do enough to testify his respect for Desiree,
+and his commiseration for her, being forced to travel in such
+weather through a country infested by starving brigands.
+
+Barlasch consented to come just within the inner door, but refused
+to sit at the table with Desiree.  He took a piece of bread, and ate
+it standing.
+
+"See you," he said to her when they were left alone, "the good God
+has made very few mistakes, but there is one thing I would have
+altered.  If He intended us for such a rough life, He should have
+made the human frame capable of going longer without food.  To a
+poor soldier marching from Moscow to have to stop every three hours
+and gnaw a piece of horse that has died--and raw--it is not
+amusing."
+
+He watched Desiree with a grudging eye.  For she was young, and had
+eaten nothing for six freezing hours.
+
+"And for us," he added; "what a waste of time!"
+
+Desiree rose at once with a laugh.
+
+"You want to go," she said.  "Come, I am ready."
+
+"Yes," he admitted, "I want to go.  I am afraid--name of a dog!  I
+am afraid, I tell you.  For I have heard the Cossacks cry, 'Hurrah!
+Hurrah!'  And they are coming."
+
+"Ah!" said Desiree, "that is what your friend told you."
+
+"That, and other things."
+
+He was pulling on his gloves as he spoke, and turned quickly on his
+heel when the innkeeper entered the room, as if he had expected one
+of those dread Cossacks of Toula who were half savage.  But the
+innkeeper carried nothing more lethal in his hand than a yellow mug
+of beer, which he offered to Barlasch.  And the old soldier only
+shook his head.
+
+"There is poison in it," he muttered.  "He knows I am a Frenchman."
+
+"Come," said Desiree, with her gay laugh, "I will show you that
+there is no poison in it."
+
+She took the mug and drank, and handed the measure to Barlasch.  It
+was a poor thin beer, and Barlasch was not one to hide his opinion
+from the host, to whom he made a reproving grimace when he returned
+the empty mug.  But the effect upon him was nevertheless good, for
+he took the reins again with a renewed energy, and called to the
+horses gaily enough.
+
+"Allons," he said; "we shall reach Dantzig safely by nightfall, and
+there we shall find your husband awaiting us, and laughing at us for
+our foolish journey."
+
+But being an old man, the beer could not warm his heart for long,
+and he soon lapsed again into melancholy and silence.  Nevertheless,
+they reached Dantzig by nightfall, and although it was a bitter
+twilight--colder than the night itself--the streets were full.  Men
+stood in groups and talked.  In the brief time required to journey
+to Thorn something had happened.  Something happened every day in
+Dantzig; for when history wakes from her slumber and moves, it is
+with a heavy and restless tread.
+
+"What is it?" asked Barlasch of the sentry at the town gate, while
+they waited for their passports to be returned to them.
+
+"It is a proclamation from the Emperor of Russia--no one knows how
+it has got here."
+
+"And what does he proclaim--that citizen?"
+
+"He bids the Dantzigers rise and turn us out," answered the soldier,
+with a grim laugh.
+
+"Is that all?"
+
+"No, comrade, that is not all," was the answer in a graver voice.
+
+"He proclaims that every Pole who submits now will be forgiven and
+set at liberty; the past, he says, will be committed to an eternal
+oblivion and a profound silence--those are his words."
+
+"Ah!"
+
+"Yes, and half the defenders of Dantzig are Poles--there are your
+passports--pass on."
+
+They drove through the dark streets where men like shadows hurried
+silently about their business.
+
+The Frauengasse seemed to be deserted when they reached it.  It was
+Mathilde who opened the door.  She must have been at the darkened
+window, behind the curtain.  Lisa had gone home to her native
+village in Sammland in obedience to the Governor's orders.
+Sebastian had not been home all day.  Charles had not returned, and
+there was no news of him.
+
+Barlasch, wiping the snow from his face, watched Desiree, and made
+no comment.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV.  MATHILDE CHOOSES.
+
+
+
+     But strong is fate, O Love,
+     Who makes, who mars, who ends.
+
+Desiree was telling Mathilde the brief news of her futile journey,
+when a knock at the front door made them turn from the stairs where
+they were standing.  It was Sebastian's knock.  His hours had been
+less regular of late.  He came and went without explanation.
+
+When he had freed his throat from his furs, and laid aside his
+gloves, he glanced hastily at Desiree, who had kissed him without
+speaking.
+
+"And your husband?" he asked curtly.
+
+"It was not he whom we found at Thorn," she answered.  There was
+something in her father's voice--in his quick, sidelong glance at
+her--that caught her attention.  He had changed lately.  From a man
+of dreams he had been transformed into a man of action.  It is
+customary to designate a man of action as a hard man.  Custom is the
+brick wall against which feeble minds come to a standstill and
+hinder the progress of the world.  Sebastian had been softened by
+action, through which his mental energy had found an outlet.  But
+to-night he was his old self again--hard, scornful,
+incomprehensible.
+
+"I have heard nothing of him," said Desiree.
+
+Sebastian was stamping the snow from his boots.
+
+"But I have," he said, without looking up.
+
+Desiree said nothing.  She knew that the secret she had guarded so
+carefully--the secret kept by herself and Louis--was hers no longer.
+In the silence of the next moments she could hear Barlasch breathing
+on his fingers, within the kitchen doorway just behind her.
+Mathilde made a little movement.  She was on the stairs, and she
+moved nearer to the balustrade and held to it breathlessly.  For
+Charles Darragon's secret was De Casimir's too.
+
+"These two gentlemen," said Sebastian slowly, "were in the secret
+service of Napoleon.  They are hardly likely to return to Dantzig."
+
+"Why not?" asked Mathilde.
+
+"They dare not."
+
+"I think the Emperor will be able to protect his officers," said
+Mathilde.
+
+"But not his spies," replied Sebastian coldly.
+
+"Since they wore his uniform, they cannot be blamed for doing their
+duty.  They are brave enough.  They would hardly avoid returning to
+Dantzig because--because they have outwitted the Tugendbund."
+
+Mathilde's face was colourless with anger, and her quiet eyes
+flashed.  She had been surprised into this sudden advocacy, and an
+advocate who displays temper is always a dangerous ally.  Sebastian
+glanced at her sharply.  She was usually so self-controlled that her
+flashing eyes and quick breath betrayed her.
+
+"What do you know of the Tugendbund?" he asked.
+
+But she would not answer, merely shrugging her shoulders and closing
+her thin lips with a snap.
+
+"It is not only in Dantzig," said Sebastian, "that they are unsafe.
+It is anywhere where the Tugendbund can reach them."
+
+He turned sharply to Desiree.  His wits, cleared by action, told him
+that her silence meant that she, at all events, had not been
+surprised.  She had, therefore, known already the part played by De
+Casimir and Charles, in Dantzig, before the war.
+
+"And you," he said, "you have nothing to say for your husband."
+
+"He may have been misled," she said mechanically, in the manner of
+one making a prepared speech or meeting a foreseen emergency.  It
+had been foreseen by Louis d'Arragon.  The speech had been,
+unconsciously, prepared by him.
+
+"You mean, by Colonel de Casimir," suggested Mathilde, who had
+recovered her usual quiet.  And Desiree did not deny her meaning.
+Sebastian looked from one to the other.  It was the irony of Fate
+that had married one of his daughters to Charles Darragon, and
+affianced the other to De Casimir.  His own secret, so well kept,
+had turned in his hand like a concealed weapon.
+
+They were all startled by Barlasch, who spoke from the kitchen door,
+where he had been standing unobserved or forgotten.  He came forward
+to the light of the lamp hanging overhead.
+
+"That reminds me . . . " he said a second time, and having secured
+their attention, he instituted a search in the many pockets of his
+nondescript clothing.  He still wore a dirty handkerchief bound over
+one eye.  It served to release him from duty in the trenches or work
+on the frozen fortifications.  By this simple device, coupled with
+half a dozen bandages in various parts of his person, where a frost-
+bite or a wound gave excuse, he passed as one of the twenty-five
+thousand sick and wounded who encumbered Dantzig at this time, and
+were already dying at the rate of fifty a day.
+
+"A letter . . . " he said, still searching with his maimed hand.
+"You mentioned the name of the Colonel de Casimir.  It was that
+which recalled to my mind . . . "  He paused, and produced a letter
+carefully sealed.  He turned it over, glancing at the seals with a
+reproving jerk of the head, which conveyed as clearly as words a
+shameless confession that he had been frustrated by them . . . "this
+letter.  I was told to give it you, without fail, at the right
+moment."
+
+It could hardly be the case that he honestly thought this moment
+might be so described.  But he gave the letter to Mathilde with a
+gesture of grim triumph.  Perhaps he was thinking of the cellar in
+the Palace on the Petrovka at Moscow, and the treasure which he had
+found there.
+
+"It is from the Colonel de Casimir," he said, "a clever man," he
+added, turning confidentially to Sebastian, and holding his
+attention by an upraised hand.  "Oh! . . . a clever man."
+
+Mathilde, her face all flushed, tore open the envelope, while
+Barlasch, breathing on his fingers, watched with twinkling eye and
+busy lips.
+
+The letter was a long one.  Colonel de Casimir was an adept at
+explanation.  There was, no doubt, much to explain.  Mathilde read
+the letter carefully.  It was the first she had ever had--a love-
+letter in its guise--with explanations in it.  Love and explanation
+in the same breath.  Assuredly De Casimir was a daring lover.
+
+"He says that Dantzig will be taken by storm," she said at length,
+"and that the Cossacks will spare no one."
+
+"Does it signify," inquired Sebastian in his smoothest voice, "what
+Colonel de Casimir may say?"
+
+His grand manner had come back to him.  He made a gesture with his
+hand almost suggestive of a ruffle at the wrist, and clearly
+insulting to Colonel de Casimir.
+
+"He urges us to quit the city before it is too late," continued
+Mathilde, in her measured voice, and awaited her father's reply.  He
+took snuff with a cold smile.
+
+"You will not do so?" she asked.  And by way of reply, Sebastian
+laughed as he dusted the snuff from his coat with his pocket-
+handkerchief.
+
+"He asks me to go to Cracow with the Grafin, and marry him," said
+Mathilde finally.  And Sebastian only shrugged his shoulders.  The
+suggestion was beneath contempt.
+
+"And . . . ?" he inquired with raised eyebrows.
+
+"I shall do it," replied Mathilde, defiance shining in her eyes.
+
+"At all events," commented Sebastian, who knew Mathilde's mind, and
+met her coldness with indifference, "you will do it with your eyes
+open, and not leap in the dark, as Desiree did.  I was to blame
+there; a man is always to blame if he is deceived.  With you . . .
+Bah! you know what the man is.  But you do not know, unless he tells
+you in that letter, that he is even a traitor in his treachery.  He
+has accepted the amnesty offered by the Czar; he has abandoned
+Napoleon's cause; he has petitioned the Czar to allow him to retire
+to Cracow, and there live on his estates."
+
+"He has no doubt good reasons for his action," said Mathilde.
+
+"Two carriages full," muttered Barlasch, who had withdrawn to the
+dark corner near the kitchen door.  But no one heeded him.
+
+"You must make your choice," said Sebastian, with the coldness of a
+judge.  "You are of age.  Choose."
+
+"I have already chosen," answered Mathilde.  "The Grafin leaves to-
+morrow.  I will go with her."
+
+She had, at all events, the courage of her own opinions--a courage
+not rare in women, however valueless may be the judgment upon which
+it is based.  And in fairness it must be admitted that women usually
+have the courage not only of the opinion, but of the consequence,
+and meet it with a better grace than men can summon in misfortune.
+
+Sebastian dined alone and hastily.  Mathilde was locked in her room,
+and refused to open the door.  Desiree cooked her father's dinner
+while Barlasch made ready to depart on some vague errand in the
+town.
+
+"There may be news," he said.  "Who knows?  And afterwards the
+patron will go out, and it would not be wise for you to remain alone
+in the house."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+Barlasch turned and looked at her thoughtfully over his shoulder.
+
+"In some of the big houses down in the Niederstadt there are forty
+and fifty soldiers quartered--diseased, wounded, without discipline.
+There are others coming.  I have told them we have fever in the
+house.  It is the only way.  We may keep them out; for the
+Frauengasse is in the centre of the town, and the soldiers are not
+needed in this quarter.  But you--you cannot lie as I can.  You
+laugh--ah!  A woman tells more lies; but a man tells them better.
+Push the bolts, when I am gone."
+
+After his dinner, Sebastian went out, as Barlasch had predicted.  He
+said nothing to Desiree of Charles or of the future.  There was
+nothing to be said, perhaps.  He did not ask why Mathilde was
+absent.  In the stillness of the house, he could probably hear her
+moving in her rooms upstairs.
+
+He had not been long gone when Mathilde came down, dressed to go
+out.  She came into the kitchen where Desiree was doing the work of
+the absent Lisa, who had reluctantly gone to her home on the Baltic
+coast.  Mathilde stood by the kitchen table and ate some bread.
+
+"The Grafin has arranged to quit Dantzig to-morrow," she said.  "I
+am going to ask her to take me with her."
+
+Desiree nodded and made no comment.  Mathilde went to the door, but
+paused there.  Without looking round, she stood thinking deeply.
+They had grown from childhood together--motherless--with a father
+whom neither understood.  Together they had faced the difficulties
+of life; the hundred petty difficulties attending a woman's life in
+a strange land, among neighbours who bear the sleepless grudge of
+unsatisfied curiosity.  They had worked together for their daily
+bread.  And now the full stream of life had swept them together from
+the safe moorings of childhood.
+
+"Will you come too?" asked Mathilde.  "All that he says about
+Dantzig is true."
+
+"No, thank you," answered Desiree, gently enough.  "I will wait
+here.  I must wait in Dantzig."
+
+"I cannot," said Mathilde, half excusing herself.  "I must go.  I
+cannot help it.  You understand?"
+
+"Yes," said Desiree, and nothing more.
+
+Had Mathilde asked her the question six months ago, she would have
+said "No."  But she understood now, not that Mathilde could love De
+Casimir; that was beyond her individual comprehension, but that
+there was no alternative now.
+
+Soon after Mathilde had gone, Barlasch returned.
+
+"If Mademoiselle Mathilde is going, she will have to go to-morrow,"
+he said.  "Those that are coming in at the gates now are the
+rearguard of the Heudelet Division which was driven out of Elbing by
+the Cossacks three days ago."
+
+He sat mumbling to himself by the fire, and only turned to the
+supper which Desiree had placed in readiness for him when she
+quitted the room and went upstairs.  It was he who opened the door
+for Mathilde, who returned in half an hour.  She thanked him absent-
+mindedly and went upstairs.  He could hear the sisters talking
+together in a low voice in the drawing-room, which he had never
+seen, at the top of the stairs.
+
+Then Desiree came down, and he helped her to find in a shed in the
+yard one of those travelling-trunks which he had recognized as being
+of French manufacture.  He took off his boots, and carried it
+upstairs for her.
+
+It was ten o'clock before Sebastian came in.  He nodded his thanks
+to Barlasch, and watched him bolt the door.  He made no inquiry as
+to Mathilde, but extinguished the lamp, and went to his room.  He
+never mentioned her name again.
+
+Early the next morning, the girls were astir.  But Barlasch was
+before them, and when Desiree came down, she found the kitchen fire
+alight.  Barlasch was cleaning a knife, and nodded a silent good
+morning.  Desiree's eyes were red, and Barlasch must have noted this
+sign of grief, for he gave a contemptuous laugh, and continued his
+occupation.
+
+It was barely daylight when the Grafin's heavy, old-fashioned
+carriage drew up in front of the house.  Mathilde came down, thickly
+veiled and in her travelling furs.  She did not seem to see
+Barlasch, and omitted to thank him for carrying her travelling-trunk
+to the carriage.
+
+He stood on the terrace beside Desiree until the carriage had turned
+the corner into the Pfaffengasse.
+
+"Bah!" he said, "let her go.  There is no stopping them, when they
+are like that.  It is the curse--of the Garden of Eden."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV.  A DESPATCH.
+
+
+
+     In counsel it is good to see dangers; and in execution not to
+see them unless they be very great.
+
+Mathilde had told Desiree that Colonel de Casimir made no mention of
+Charles in his letter to her.  Barlasch was able to supply but
+little further information on the matter.
+
+"It was given to me by the Captain Louis d'Arragon at Thorn," he
+said.  "He handled it as if it were not too clean.  And he had
+nothing to say about it.  You know his way, for the rest.  He says
+little; but he knows the look of things.  It seemed that he had
+promised to deliver the letter--for some reason, who knows what? and
+he kept his promise.  The man was not dying by any chance--that De
+Casimir?"
+
+And his little sharp eyes, reddened by the smoke of camp-fires,
+inflamed by the glare of sun on snow, searched her face.  He was
+thinking of the treasure.
+
+"Oh no!"
+
+"Was he ill at all?"
+
+"He was in bed," answered Desiree, doubtfully.
+
+Barlasch scratched his head without ceremony, and fell into a long
+train of thought.
+
+"Do you know what I think?" he said at length.  "I think that De
+Casimir was not ill at all--any more than I am; I, Barlasch.  Not so
+ill, perhaps, as I am, for I have an indigestion.  It is always
+there at the summit of the stomach.  It is horse without salt."
+
+He paused and rubbed his chest tenderly.
+
+"Never eat horse without salt," he put in parenthetically.
+
+"I hope never to eat it at all," answered Desiree.  "What about
+Colonel de Casimir?"
+
+He waved her aside as a babbler who broke in upon his thoughts.
+These seemed to be lodged in his mouth, for, when reflecting, he
+chewed and mumbled with his lips.
+
+"Listen," he said at length.  "This is De Casimir.  He goes to bed
+and lets his beard grow--half an inch of beard will keep any man in
+the hospital.  You nod your head.  Yes; I thought so.  He knows that
+the viceroy, with the last of the army, is at Thorn.  He keeps
+quiet.  He waits in his roadside inn until the last of the army has
+gone.  He waits until the Russians come, and to them he hands over
+the Emperor's possessions--all the papers, the maps, the despatches.
+For that he will be rewarded by the Emperor Alexander, who has
+already promised pardon to all Poles who have taken arms against
+Russia and now submit.  De Casimir will be allowed to retain his own
+baggage.  He has no loot taken at Moscow--oh no!  Only his own
+baggage.  Ah--that man!  See, I spit him out."
+
+And it is painful to record that he here resorted to graphic
+illustration.
+
+"Ah!" he went on triumphantly, "I know.  I can see right into the
+mind of such a man.  I will tell you why.  It is because I am that
+sort of man myself."
+
+"You do not seem to have been so successful--since you are poor,"
+said Desiree, with a laugh.
+
+He frowned at her apparently in speechless anger, seeking an answer.
+But for the moment he could think of none, so he turned to the
+knives again, which he was cleaning on a board on the kitchen-table.
+At length he paused and glanced at Desiree.
+
+"And your husband," he said slowly.  "Remember that he is a partner
+with this De Casimir.  They hunt together.  I know it; for I was in
+Moscow.  Ah! that makes you stand stiffly, and push your chin out."
+
+He went on cleaning the knives, and, without looking at her, seemed
+to be speaking his own thoughts aloud.
+
+"Yes!  He is a traitor.  And he is worse than the other; for he is
+no Pole, but a Frenchman.  And if he returns to France, the Emperor
+will say:  'Where are my despatches, my maps, my papers, which were
+given into your care?'"
+
+He finished the thought with three gestures, which seemed to
+illustrate the placing of a man against a wall and shooting him.
+His meaning could not be mistaken.
+
+"And that is what the patron means when he says that Monsieur
+Charles Darragon will not return to Dantzig.  I knew that he meant
+that last night, when he was so angry--on the mat."
+
+"And why did you not tell me?"
+
+Barlasch looked at her thoughtfully for a moment, before replying
+slowly and impressively.
+
+"Because, if I had told you, you might have decided to quit Dantzig
+with Mademoiselle Mathilde, and go hunting your husband in a country
+overrun by desperate fugitives and untamed Cossacks.  And I did not
+want that.  I want you here--in Dantzig; in the Frauengasse; in this
+kitchen; under my hand--so that I can take care of you till the war
+is over.  I--who speak to you--Papa Barlasch, at your service.  And
+there is not another man in the world who will do it so well.  No;
+not one."
+
+And his eyes flashed as he threw the knives into a drawer.
+
+"But why should you do all this for me?" asked Desiree.  "You could
+have gone home to France--quite easily--and have left us to our fate
+here in Dantzig.  Why did you not go home?"
+
+Barlasch looked at her with surprise, not unmixed with a sudden dumb
+disappointment.  He was preparing to go out according to his wont
+immediately after breakfast; for Lisa had unconsciously hit the mark
+when she compared him to a cat.  He had the regular and self-
+contained habits of that unobtrusive friend.  He buttoned his rough
+coat slowly, and looked round the kitchen with eyes dimly wistful.
+He was very old and ragged and homeless.
+
+"Is it not enough," he said, "that we are friends?"
+
+He went towards the door, but came back and warned her by the
+familiar upheld finger not to let her attention wander from his
+words.
+
+"You will be glad yet that I have stayed.  It is because I speak a
+little plainly of your husband that you wish me gone.  Bah!  What
+does it matter?  All men are alike.  We are only men--not angels.
+And you can go on loving him all the same.  You are not particular,
+you women.  You can love anything--even a man like that."
+
+And he went out muttering anathemas on the hearts of all women.
+
+"It seems," he said, "that a woman can love anything."
+
+Which is true; and a very good thing for some of us.  For without
+that Heaven-sent capacity the world could not go on at all.
+
+It was later in the day when Barlasch made his way into the low and
+smoke-grimed Bier Halle of the Weissen Ross'l.  He must have known
+Sebastian's habits, for he went straight to that corner of the great
+room where the violin-player usually sat.  The stout waitress--a
+country girl of no intelligence, smiled broadly at the sight of such
+a ragged customer as she followed him down the length of the
+sawdust-strewn floor.
+
+Sebastian's face showed no surprise when he looked up and recognized
+the new-comer.  The surrounding tables were empty.  It was too early
+in the evening for the regular customers, whose numbers, moreover,
+had been sadly thinned during the last few months.  For the peaceful
+Dantzigers, remembering the siege of seven years ago, had mostly
+fled at the first mention of the word.
+
+Sebastian nodded in answer to Barlasch's somewhat ceremonious bow,
+and by a gesture invited him to be seated on the chair upon which he
+had already laid his hand.  The atmosphere of the room was warm, and
+Barlasch laid aside his sheepskin coat, as he had seen the great and
+the rich divest themselves of their sables.  He turned sharply and
+caught the waitress with an amused smile still on her face.  He drew
+her attention to a little pool of beer on the table, and stood until
+she had made good this lapse in her duty.  Then he pointed to
+Sebastian's mug of beer and dismissed her giggling, to get one for
+him of the same size and contents.
+
+Making sure that there was no one within earshot, he waited until
+Sebastian's dreamy eye met his, and then said--
+
+"It is time we understood each other."
+
+A light of surprise--passing and half-indifferent--flashed into
+Sebastian's eyes and vanished again at once when he saw Barlasch had
+meant nothing:  made no sign or countersign with his hand.
+
+"By all means, my friend," he answered.
+
+"I delivered your letters," said Barlasch, "at Thorn and at the
+other places."
+
+"I know; I have already had answers.  You would be wise to forget
+the incident."
+
+Barlasch shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"You were paid," said Sebastian, jumping to a natural conclusion.
+
+"A little," admitted Barlasch, "a small little--but it was not that.
+I always get paid in advance, when I can.  Except by the Emperor.
+He owes me some--that citizen.  It was another question.  In the
+house I am friends with all--with Lisa who has gone--with
+Mademoiselle Mathilde who has gone--with Mademoiselle Desiree, so-
+called Madame Darragon, who remains.  With all except you.  Why
+should we not be friends?"
+
+"But we are friends--" protested Sebastian, with a bow.  As if in
+confirmation of the statement, he held out his beer-mug, and
+Barlasch touched it with the rim of his own before drinking.
+Sebastian's attitude, his bow, his manner of drinking, were those of
+the Court; Barlasch was distinctly of the camp.  But these were
+strange days, and all society had been turned topsy-turvy by one
+man.
+
+"Then," said Barlasch, licking his lips, "let us understand one
+another.  You say there will be no siege.  I say you are wrong.  You
+think that the Dantzigers will rise in answer to the Emperor
+Alexander's proclamations, and turn the French out.  I say the
+Dantzigers' stomachs are too big.  I say that Rapp will hold
+Dantzig, and that the Russians will not take it by storm, because
+they are too weak.  There will be a siege, and a long one.  Are you
+and Mademoiselle and I going to sit it out in the Frauengasse
+together?"
+
+"We shall be honoured to have you as our guest," answered Sebastian,
+with that levity which went before the Revolution, and was never
+understood of the people.
+
+Barlasch did not understand it.  He glanced doubtfully at his
+companion, and sipped his beer.
+
+"Then I will begin to-night."
+
+"Begin what, my friend?"
+
+Barlasch waved aside all petty detail.
+
+"My preparations.  I go out about ten o'clock--after you are in.  I
+will take the key of the front door, and let myself in when I come
+back.  I shall make two journeys.  Under the kitchen floor is a
+large hollow space.  I fill that with bags of corn."
+
+"But where will you get the corn, my friend?"
+
+"I know where to get it--corn and other things.  Salt I have
+already--enough for a year.  Other things I can get for three
+months."
+
+"But we have no money to pay for them."
+
+"Bah!"
+
+"You mean you will steal them," suggested Sebastian, not without a
+ring of contempt in his mincing voice.
+
+"A soldier never steals," answered Barlasch, carelessly announcing a
+great truth.
+
+Sebastian laughed.  It was obvious that his mind, absorbed in great
+thought, heeded small things not at all.  His companion pushed his
+fur cap to the back of his head, and ruffled his hair forward.
+
+"That is not all," he said at length.  He looked round the vast
+room, which was almost deserted.  The stout waitress was polishing
+pewter mugs at the bar.  "You say you have already had answers to
+those letters.  It is a great organization--your secret society--
+whatever it is called.  It delivers letters all over Prussia--eh?
+and Poland perhaps--or farther still."
+
+Sebastian shrugged one shoulder, and made no answer for some time.
+
+"I have already told you," he said impatiently, at length, "to
+forget the incident; you were paid."
+
+By way of reply, the old soldier laboriously emptied his pockets,
+searching the most remote of them for small copper coins.  He
+counted slowly and carefully until he had made up a thaler.
+
+"But it is not my turn to be paid this time.  It is I who pay."
+
+He held out his hand with a pound weight of base metal in it, but
+Sebastian refused the money with a sudden assumption of his cold and
+scornful manner, oddly out of keeping with his humble surroundings.
+
+"As between friends--" suggested Barlasch, and, on receiving a more
+decided negative, returned the coins to his pocket, not without
+satisfaction.
+
+"I want your friends to pass on a letter for me--I am willing to
+pay," he said in a whisper.  "A letter to Captain Louis d'Arragon--
+it concerns the happiness of Mademoiselle Desiree.  Do not shake
+your head.  Think before you refuse.  The letter will be an open
+one--six words or so--telling the Captain that his cousin,
+Mademoiselle's husband, is not in Dantzig, and cannot now return
+here since the last of the rearguard entered the city this morning."
+
+Sebastian seemed to be considering the matter, and Barlasch was
+quick to combat possible objections.
+
+"The Captain went to Konigsberg.  He is there now.  Your friends can
+easily find him, and give him the letter.  It is of great importance
+to Mademoiselle.  The Captain is not looking for Monsieur Charles
+Darragon, because he thinks that he is here in Dantzig.  Colonel de
+Casimir assured him that Mademoiselle would find him here.  Where is
+he--that Monsieur Charles--I wonder?  It is of great importance to
+Mademoiselle.  The Captain would perhaps continue his search."
+
+"Where is your letter?" asked Sebastian.
+
+By way of reply, Barlasch laid on the table a sheet of paper.
+
+"You must write it," he said.  "My hand is injured.  I write not
+badly, you understand.  But this evening I do not feel that my hand
+is well enough."
+
+So, with the sticky, thick ink of the Weissen Ross'l, Sebastian
+wrote the letter, and Barlasch, forgetting his scholarly
+acquirements, took the pen and made a mark beneath his own name
+written at the foot of it.
+
+Then he went out, and left Sebastian to pay for the beer.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI.  ON THE BRIDGE.
+
+
+
+     They that are above
+     Have ends in everything.
+
+A lame man was standing on the bridge that crosses the Neuer Pregel
+from the Kant Strasse--which is the centre of the city of
+Konigsberg--to the island known as the Kneiphof.  This bridge is
+called the Kramer Brucke, and may be described as the heart of the
+town.  From it on either hand diverge the narrow streets that run
+along the river bank, busy with commerce, crowded with the narrow
+sleighs that carry wood from the Pregel up into the town.
+
+The wider streets--such as the Kant Strasse, running downhill from
+the royal castle to the river, and the Kneiphof'sche Langgasse,
+leading southward to the Brandenburg gate and the great world--must
+needs make use of the Kramer Brucke.  Here, it may be said, every
+man in the town must sooner or later pass in the execution of his
+daily business, whether he go about it on foot or in a sleigh with a
+pair of horses.  Here the idler and those grave professors from the
+University, which was still mourning the death of the aged Kant,
+nearly always passed in their thoughtful and conscientious
+promenades.
+
+Here this lame man, a cobbler by trade, plying his quiet calling in
+a house in the Neuer Markt, where the lime-trees grow close to the
+upper windows, had patiently kept watch for three days.  He was,
+like many lame men, of an abnormal width and weight.  He had a
+large, square, dogged face, which seemed to promise that he would
+wait there till the crack of doom rather than abandon a quest.
+
+It was very cold--mid-winter within a few miles of the frozen Baltic
+on the very verge of Russia, at that point where old Europe
+stretches a long arm out into the unknown.  The cobbler was wrapped
+in a sheepskin coat, which stood out all round him with the
+stiffness of wood, so that he seemed to be living inside a box.  To
+keep himself warm he occasionally limped across from end to end of
+the bridge, but never went farther.  At times he leant his arms on
+the stone wall at the Kant Strasse end of the bridge, and looked
+down into the Lower Fish Market, where women from Pillau and the
+Baltic shores--mere bundles of clothes--stood over their baskets of
+fish frozen hard like sticks.  It was a silent market.  One cannot
+haggle long when a minute's exposure to the air will give a frost-
+bite to the end of the nose.  The would-be purchaser can scarcely
+make an effective bargain through a fringe of icicles that rattle
+against his lips if he open them.
+
+The Pregel had been frozen for three months, with only the one
+temporary thaw in November which cost Napoleon so many thousands at
+his broken bridge across the Beresina.  Though no water had flowed
+beneath this bridge, many strange feet had passed across it.
+
+It had vibrated beneath Napoleon's heavy carriage, under the
+lumbering guns that Macdonald took northward to blockade Riga.
+Within the last few weeks it had given passage to the last of the
+retreating army, a mere handful of heartsick fugitives.  Macdonald
+with his staff had been ignominiously driven across it by the
+Cossacks who followed hard after them, the great marshal still wild
+with rage at the defection of Yorck and the Prussian contingent.
+
+And now the Cossacks on their spare and ill-tempered horses passed
+to and fro, wild men under an untamed leader whose heart was
+hardened to stone by bereavement.  The cobbler looked at them with a
+countenance of wood.  It was hard to say whether he preferred them
+to the French, or was indifferent to one as to the other.  He looked
+at their boots with professional disdain.  For all men must look at
+the world from their own standpoint and consider mankind in the
+light of their own interests.  Thus those who live on the greed or
+the vanity, or batten on the charity of their neighbour, learn to
+watch the lips.
+
+The cobbler, by reason of looking at the lower end of men, attracted
+little attention from the passer-by.  He who has his eyes on the
+ground passes unheeded.  For the surest way of awakening interest is
+to appear interested.  It would seem that this cobbler was waiting
+for a pair of boots not made in Konigsberg.  And on the third day
+his expressionless black eyes lighted on feet not shod in Poland, or
+France, or Germany, nor yet in square-toed Russia.
+
+The owner of these far-travelled boots was a lightly-built dark-
+faced man, with eyes quietly ubiquitous.  He caught the interested
+glance of the cobbler, and turned to look at him again with the
+uneasiness that is bred of war.  The cobbler instantly hobbled
+towards him.
+
+"Will you help a poor man?" he said.
+
+"Why should I?" was the answer, with one hand already half out of
+its thick glove.  "You are not hungry; you have never been starved
+in your life."
+
+The German was quick enough, but it was not quite the Prussian
+German.
+
+The cobbler looked at the speaker slowly.
+
+"An Englishman?" he asked.
+
+And the other nodded.
+
+"Come this way."
+
+The cobbler hobbled towards the Kneiphof, where the streets are
+quiet, and the Englishman followed him.  At the corner of the Kohl
+Markt he turned and looked, not at the man, but at his boots.
+
+"You are a sailor?" he said.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"I was told to look for an English sailor--Louis d'Arragon."
+
+"Then you have found me," was the reply.
+
+Still the cobbler hesitated.
+
+"How am I to know it?" he asked suspiciously.
+
+"Can you read?" asked D'Arragon.  "I can prove who I am--if I want
+to.  But I am not sure that I want to."
+
+"Oh! it is only a letter--of no importance.  Some private business
+of your own.  It comes from Dantzig--written by one whose name
+begins with 'B.'"
+
+"Barlasch," suggested D'Arragon quietly, as he took from his pocket
+a paper which he unfolded and held beneath the eyes of the cobbler.
+It was a passport written in three languages.  If the man could
+read, he was not anxious to boast of an accomplishment so far above
+his station; but he glanced at the paper, not without a practised
+skill, to seize the essential parts of it.
+
+"Yes, that is the name," he said, searching in his pockets.  "The
+letter is an open one.  Here it is."
+
+In passing the letter, the man made a scarcely perceptible movement
+of the hand which might have been a signal.
+
+"No," said D'Arragon, "I do not belong to the Tugendbund or to any
+other secret society.  We have need of no such associations in my
+country."
+
+The cobbler laughed, not without embarrassment.
+
+"You have a quick eye," he said.  "It is a great country, England.
+I have seen the river full of English ships before Napoleon chased
+you off the seas."
+
+D'Arragon smiled as he unfolded the letter.
+
+"He has not done it yet," he said, with that spirit which enables
+mariners of the Anglo-Saxon race to be amused when there is a talk
+of supremacy on the high seas.  He read the letter carefully, and
+his face hardened.
+
+"I was instructed," said the cobbler, "to give you the letter, and
+at the same time to inform you that any assistance or facilities you
+may require will be forth-coming; besides . . . " he broke off and
+pointed with his thick, leather-stained finger, "that writing is not
+the writing of him who signs."
+
+"He who signs cannot write at all."
+
+"That writing," went on the cobbler, "is a passport in any German
+state.  He who carries a letter written in that hand can live and
+travel free anywhere from here to the Rhine or the Danube."
+
+"Then I am lucky in possessing a powerful friend," said D'Arragon,
+"for I know who wrote this letter.  I think I may say he is a friend
+of mine."
+
+"I am sure of it.  I have already been told so," said the cobbler.
+"Have you a lodging in Konigsberg?  No?  Then you can lodge in my
+house."
+
+Without awaiting a reply, which he seemed to consider a foregone
+conclusion, he limped down the Kohl Markt towards the steps leading
+to the river, which in winter is a thoroughfare.
+
+"I live in the Neuer Markt," he said breathlessly, as he laboured
+onwards.  "I have waited for you three days on that bridge.  Where
+have you been all this time?"
+
+"Avoiding the French," replied D'Arragon curtly.  Respecting his own
+affairs he was reticent, as commanders and other lonely men must
+always be.  They walked side by side on the dusty and trodden ice
+without further speech.  At the steps from the river to Neuer Markt,
+D'Arragon gave the lame man his hand, and glanced a second time at
+the fingers which clasped his own.  They had not been born to toil,
+but had had it thrust upon them.
+
+They crossed the Neuer Markt together, and went into that house
+where the linden grows so close as to obscure the windows.  And the
+lodging offered to Louis was the room in which Charles Darragon had
+slept in his wet clothes six months earlier.  So small is the world
+in which we live, and so narrow are the circles drawn by Fate around
+human existence and endeavour.
+
+The cobbler having shown his visitor the room, and pointed out its
+advantages, was turning to go when D'Arragon, who was laying aside
+his fur coat, seemed to catch his attention, and he paused on the
+threshold.
+
+"There is French blood in your veins," he said abruptly.
+
+"Yes--a little."
+
+"So.  I thought there must be.  You reminded me--it was odd, the way
+you laid aside your coat--reminded me of a Frenchman who lodged here
+for one night.  He was like you, too, in build and face.  He was a
+spy, if you please--one of the French Emperor's secret police.  I
+was new at the work then, but still I suspected there was something
+wrong about him.  I took his boots--a pretext of mending them.  I
+locked him in.  He got out of that window, if you please, without
+his boots.  He followed me, and learnt much that he was not meant to
+know.  I have since heard it from others.  He did the Emperor a
+great service--that man.  He saved his life, I think, from
+assassination in Dantzig.  And he did me an ill turn--but it was my
+own carelessness.  I thought to make a thaler by lodging him, and he
+was tricking me all the while."
+
+"What was his name?" asked D'Arragon.
+
+"Oh--I forgot the name he gave.  It was a false one.  He was
+disguised as a common soldier--and he was in reality an officer of
+the staff.  But I know the name of the officer to whom he wrote his
+report of his night's lodging here--his colleague in the secret
+police, it would seem."
+
+"Ah!" said D'Arragon, busying himself with his haversack.
+
+"It was De Casimir--a Polish name.  And in the last two days I have
+heard of him.  He has accepted the Emperor's amnesty.  He has
+married a beautiful woman, and is living like a prince at Cracow.
+All this since the siege of Dantzig began.  In time of war there is
+no moment to lose, eh?"
+
+"And the other?  He who slept in this room.  Has he passed through
+Konigsberg again?"
+
+"No, that he has not.  If he had, I should have seen him.  You can
+believe me, I wanted to see him.  I was at my place on the bridge
+all the time--while the French occupied Konigsberg--when the last of
+them hurried away a month ago with the Cossacks close behind.  No.
+I should have seen him, and known him.  He is not on this side of
+the Niemen, that fine young gentleman.  Now, what can I do to help
+you to-morrow?"
+
+"You can help me on the way to Vilna," answered D'Arragon.
+
+"You will never get there."
+
+"I will try," said the sailor.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVII.  A FLASH OF MEMORY.
+
+
+
+     Nothing can cover his high fame but Heaven,
+     No pyramids set off his memories,
+     But the eternal substance of his greatness
+     To which I leave him.
+
+"Why I will not let you go out into the streets?" said Barlasch one
+February morning, stamping the snow from his boots.  "Why I will not
+let you go out into the streets?"
+
+He turned and followed Desiree towards the kitchen, after having
+carefully bolted the heavy oaken door which had been strengthened as
+if to resist a siege.  Desiree's face had that clear pallor which
+marks an indoor life; but Barlasch, weather-beaten, scorched and
+wrinkled, showed no sign of having endured a month's siege in an
+overcrowded city.
+
+"I will tell you why I will not let you go into the streets.
+Because they are not fit for any woman to go into--because if you
+walked from here to the Rathhaus you would see sights that would
+come back to you in your sleep, and wake you from it, when you are
+an old woman.  Do you know what they do with their dead?  They throw
+them outside their doors--with nothing to cover their starved
+nakedness--as Lisa put her ashes in the street every morning.  And
+the cart goes round, as the dustman's cart used to go in times of
+peace, and, like the dustman's cart, it drops part of its load, and
+the dust that blows round it is the infection of typhus.  That is
+why you cannot go into the streets."
+
+He unbuttoned his fur coat and displayed a smart new uniform; for
+Rapp had put his miserable army into new clothes, with which many of
+the Dantzig warehouses had been filled by Napoleon's order at the
+beginning of the war.
+
+"There," he said, laying a small parcel on the table, "there is my
+daily ration.  Two ounces of horse, one ounce of salt beef, the same
+as yesterday.  One does not know how long we shall be treated so
+generously.  Let us keep the beef--we may come to want some day."
+
+And giving a hoarse laugh, he lifted a board in the floor, beneath
+which he hoarded his stores.
+
+"Will you cook your dejeuner yourself," asked Desiree.  "I have
+something else for my father."
+
+"And what have you?" asked Barlasch curtly; "you are not keeping
+anything hidden from me?"
+
+"No," answered Desiree, with a laugh at the sternness of his face,
+"I will give him a piece of the ham which was left over from last
+night."
+
+"Left over?" echoed Barlasch, going close to her and looking up into
+her face, for she was two inches taller than he.  "Left over?  Then
+you did not eat your supper last night?"
+
+"Neither did you eat yours, for it is there under the floor."
+
+Barlasch turned away with a gesture of despair.  He sat down in the
+high armchair that stood on the hearth, and tapped on the floor with
+one foot in pessimistic thought.
+
+"Ah! the women, the women," he muttered, looking into the
+smouldering fire.  "Lies--all lies.  You said that your supper was
+very nice," he shouted at her over his shoulder.
+
+"So it was," answered she gaily, "so it is still."
+
+Barlasch did not rise to her lighter humour.  He sat in reflection
+for some minutes.  Then his thoughts took their usual form of a
+muttered aside.
+
+"It is a case of compromise.  Always like that.  The good God had to
+compromise with the first woman he created almost at once.  And men
+have done it ever since--and have never had the best of it.  See
+here," he said aloud, turning to Desiree, "I will make a bargain
+with you.  I will eat my last night's supper here at this table,
+now, if you will eat yours."
+
+"Agreed."
+
+"Are you hungry?" asked Barlasch, when the scanty meal was set out
+before him.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"So am I."
+
+He laughed quite gaily now, and the meal was not without a certain
+air of festivity, though it consisted of nothing better than two
+ounces of horse and half an ounce of ham eaten in company of that
+rye-bread made with one-third part of straw which Rapp allowed the
+citizens to buy.
+
+For Rapp had first tamed his army, and was now taming the
+Dantzigers.  He had effected discipline in his own camp by getting
+his regiments into shape, by establishing hospitals (which were
+immediately filled), and by protecting the citizens from the
+depredations of the starving fugitives who had been poured pell-mell
+into the town.
+
+Then he turned his attention to the Dantzigers, who were openly or
+secretly opposed to him.  He seized their churches and turned them
+into stores; their schools he used for hospitals, their monasteries
+for barracks.  He broke into their cellars, and took the wine for
+the sick.  Their storehouses he placed under the strictest guard,
+and no man could claim possession of his own goods.
+
+"We are," he said in effect, with that grim Alsatian humour which
+the Prussians were slow to understand; "we are one united family in
+a narrow house, and it is I who keep the storeroom key."
+
+Barlasch had proved to be no false prophet.  His secret store
+escaped the vigilance of the picket, whom he himself conducted to
+the cellars in the Frauengasse.  Although he was sparing enough, he
+could always provide Desiree with anything for which she expressed a
+wish, and even forestalled those which she left unspoken.  In return
+he looked for absolute obedience, and after their frugal breakfast
+he took her to task for depriving herself of such food as they could
+afford.
+
+"See you," he said, "a siege is a question of the stomach.  It is
+not the Russians we have to fight; for they will not fight.  They
+sit outside and wait for us to die of cold, of starvation, of
+typhus.  And we are obliging them at the rate of two hundred a day.
+Yes, each day Rapp is relieved of the responsibility of two hundred
+mouths that drop open and require nothing more.  Be greedy--eat all
+you have, and hope for release to-morrow, and you die.  Be sparing--
+starve yourself from parsimony or for the love of some one who will
+eat your share and forget to thank you, and you will die of typhus.
+Be careful, and patient, and selfish--eat a little, take what
+exercise you can, cook your food carefully with salt, and you will
+live.  I was in a siege thirty years before you were born, and I am
+alive yet, after many others.  Obey me and we will get through the
+siege of Dantzig, which is only just beginning."
+
+Then suddenly he gave way to anger, and banged his hand down on the
+table.
+
+"But, sacred name of thunder, do not make me believe you have eaten
+when you have not," he shouted.  "Never do that."
+
+Carried away by the importance of this question, he said many things
+which cannot be set before the eyes of a generation sensitive to
+plainness of speech, and only tolerant of it in suggestions of
+impropriety.
+
+"And the patron," he ended abruptly, "how is he?"
+
+"He is not very well," answered Desiree.  Which answer did not
+satisfy Barlasch, who insisted on taking off his boots, and going
+upstairs to see Sebastian.
+
+It was a mere nothing, the invalid said.  Such food did not suit
+him.
+
+"You have been accustomed to live well all your life," answered
+Barlasch, looking at him with the puzzled light of a baffled memory
+in his eye which always came when he looked at Desiree's father.
+"One must see what can be done."
+
+And he went out forthwith to return after an hour and more with a
+chicken freshly killed.  Desiree did not ask him where he had
+procured it.  She had given up such inquiries, for Barlasch always
+confessed quite bluntly to theft, and she did not know whether to
+believe him or not.
+
+But the change of diet had no beneficial effect, and the next day
+Desiree sent Barlasch to the house of the doctor whose practice lay
+in the Frauengasse.  He came and shook his head bluntly.  For even
+an old doctor may be hardened at the end of his life by an orgy, as
+it were, of death.
+
+"I could cure him," he said, "if there were no Russians outside the
+walls; if I could give him fresh milk and good brandy and strong
+soup."
+
+But even Barlasch could not find milk in Dantzig.  The brandy was
+forthcoming, and the fresh meat; the soup Desiree made with her own
+hands.  Sebastian had not been the same man since the closing of the
+roads and the gradual death of his hopes that the Dantzigers would
+rise against the soldiers that thronged their streets.  At one time
+it would have been easy to carry out such a movement, and to throw
+themselves and their city upon the mercy of the Russians.  But
+Dantzig awoke to this possibility too late, when Rapp's iron hand
+had closed in upon it.  He knew his own strength so well that he
+treated with a contemptuous leniency such citizens as were convicted
+of communicating with the enemy.
+
+Sebastian's friends seemed to have deserted him.  Perhaps it was not
+discreet to be seen in the company of one who had come under
+Napoleon's displeasure.  Some had quitted the city after hurriedly
+concealing their valuables in their gardens, behind the chimneys,
+beneath the floors, where it is to be supposed they still lie
+hidden.  Others were among the weekly thousand or twelve hundred who
+were carted out by the Oliva Gate to be thrown into huge trenches,
+while the waiting Russians watched from their lines on the heights
+of Langfuhr.
+
+It was true that news continued to filter in, and never quite
+ceased, all through the terrible twelve months that were to follow.
+More especially did news that was unfavourable to the French find
+its way into the beleaguered city.  But it was not authentic news,
+and Sebastian gathered little comfort from the fact--not unknown to
+the whispering citizens--that Rapp himself had heard nothing from
+the outer world since the Elbing mail-cart had been turned back by
+the first of the Cossacks on the night of the seventh of January.
+
+Perhaps Sebastian had that most fatal of maladies--to which nearly
+all men come at last--weariness of life.
+
+"Why don't you fortify yourself, and laugh at fortune?" asked
+Barlasch, twenty years his senior, as he stood sturdily on his
+stocking-feet at the sick man's bedside.
+
+"I take what my daughter gives me," protested Sebastian, half
+peevishly.
+
+"But that does not suffice," answered the materialist.  "It does not
+suffice to swallow evil fortune--one must digest it."
+
+Sebastian made no answer.  He was a quiet patient, and lay all day
+with wide-open, dreaming eyes.  He seemed to be waiting for
+something.  This, indeed, was his mental attitude as presented to
+his neighbours, and perhaps to the few friends he possessed in
+Dantzig.  He had waited through the years during which Desiree had
+grown to womanhood.  He waited on doggedly through the first month
+of the siege, without enthusiasm, without comment--without hope,
+perhaps.  He seemed to be waiting now to get better.
+
+"He has made little or no progress," said the doctor, who could only
+give a passing glance at his patients, for he was working day and
+night.  He had not time to beat about the bush, as his kind heart
+would have liked, for he had known Desiree all her life.
+
+It was Shrove Tuesday, and the streets were full of revellers.  The
+Neapolitans and other Southerners had made great preparations for
+the carnival, and the Governor had not denied them their annual
+licence.  They had built a high car in one of the entrance yards to
+the Marienkirche; and finding that the ancient arch would not allow
+the erection to pass out into the street, they had pulled down the
+pious handiwork of a bygone generation.
+
+The shouts of these merrymakers could be dimly heard through the
+double windows, but Sebastian made no inquiry as to the meaning of
+the cry.  A sort of lassitude--the result of confinement within
+doors, of insufficient food, of waning hope--had come over Desiree.
+She listened heedlessly to the sounds in the streets through which
+the dead were passing to the Oliva Gate, while the living danced by
+in their hideous travesty of rejoicing.
+
+It was dusk when Barlasch came in.
+
+"The streets," he said, "are full of fools, dressed as such."
+Receiving no answer, he crossed the room to where Desiree sat,
+treading noiselessly, and stood in front of her, trying to see her
+averted face.  He stooped down and peered at her until she could no
+longer hide her tear-stained eyes.
+
+He made a wry face and a little clicking noise with his tongue, such
+as the women of his race make when they drop and break some
+household utensil.  Then he went back towards the bed.  Hitherto he
+had always observed a certain ceremoniousness of manner in the sick
+chamber.  He laid this aside this evening, and sat down on a chair
+that stood near.
+
+Thus they remained in a silence which seemed to increase with the
+darkness.  At length the stillness became so marked that Barlasch
+slowly turned his head towards the bed.  The same instinct had come
+to Desiree at the same moment.
+
+They both rose and groped their way towards Sebastian.  Desiree
+found the flint and struck it.  The sulphur burnt blue for
+interminable moments, and then flared to meet the wick of the
+candle.  Barlasch watched Desiree as she held the light down to her
+father's face.  Sebastian's waiting was over.  Barlasch had not
+needed a candle to recognize death.
+
+From Desiree his bright and restless eyes turned slowly towards the
+dead man's face--and he stepped back.
+
+"Ah!" he said, with a hoarse cry of surprise, "now I remember.  I
+was always sure that I had seen his face before.  And when I saw it
+it was like that--like the face of a dead man.  It was on the Place
+de la Nation, on a tumbrel--going to the guillotine.  He must have
+escaped, as many did, by some accident or mistake."
+
+He went slowly to the window, holding his shaggy head between his
+two clenched hands as if to spur his memory to an effort.  Then he
+turned and pointed to the silent form on the bed.
+
+"That is a noble of France," he said; "one of the greatest.  And all
+France thinks him dead this twenty years.  And I cannot remember his
+name--goodness of God--I cannot remember his name!"
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVIII.  VILNA.
+
+
+
+                    It is our trust
+     That there is yet another world to mend
+     All error and mischance.
+
+Louis d'Arragon knew the road well enough from Konigsberg to the
+Niemen.  It runs across a plain, flat as a table, through which many
+small streams seek their rivers in winding beds.  This country was
+not thinly inhabited, though the villages had been stripped, as
+foliage is stripped by a cloud of locusts.  Each cottage had its
+ring of silver birch-trees to protect it from the winds which sweep
+from the Baltic and the steppe.  These had been torn and broken down
+by the retreating army, in a vain hope of making fire with green
+wood.
+
+It was quite easy to keep in the steps of the retreating army, for
+the road was marked by recumbent forms huddled on either side.  Few
+vehicles had come so far, for the broken country near to Vilna and
+around Kowno had presented slopes up which the starving horses were
+unable to drag their load.
+
+D'Arragon reached Kowno without mishap, and there found a Russian
+colonel of Cossacks who proved friendly enough, and not only
+appreciated the value of his passport and such letters of
+recommendation as he had been able to procure at Konigsberg, but
+gave him others, and forwarded him on his journey.
+
+He still nourished a lingering belief in De Casimir's word.  Charles
+must have been left behind at Vilna to recover from his exhaustion.
+He would, undoubtedly, make his way westward as soon as possible.
+He might have got away to the South.  Any one of these huddled human
+landmarks might be Charles Darragon.
+
+Louis was essentially a thorough man.  The sea is a mistress
+demanding a whole and concentrated attention--and concentration soon
+becomes a habit.  Louis did not travel at night, for fear of passing
+Charles on the road, alive or dead.  He knew his cousin better than
+any in the Frauengasse had learnt to know this gay and inconsequent
+Frenchman.  A certain cunning lay behind the happy laugh--a great
+capacity was hidden by the careless manner.  If ready wit could
+bring man through the dangers of the retreat, Charles had as good a
+chance of surviving as any.
+
+Nevertheless, Louis rarely passed a dead man on the road, but drew
+up, and quitting his sleigh, turned over the body, which was almost
+invariably huddled with its back offered to the deadly, prevailing
+North wind.  Against each this wind had piled a sloping bank of that
+fine snow which, even in the lightest breeze, drifts over the
+surface of the land like an ivory mist, waist high, and cakes the
+clothes.  In a high wind it will rise twenty feet in the air, and
+blind any who try to face it.
+
+As often as not a mere glance sufficed to show that this was not
+Charles, for few of the bodies were clad.  Many had been stripped,
+while still living, by their half-frozen comrades.  But sometimes
+Louis had to dust the snow from strange bearded faces before he
+could pass on with a quick sigh of relief.
+
+Beyond Kowno, the country is thinly populated, and spreading pine-
+forests bound the horizon.  The Cossacks--the wild men of Toula, who
+reaped the laurels of the rearguard fighting--were all along the
+road.  D'Arragon frequently came upon a picket--as often as not the
+men were placidly sitting on a frozen corpse, as on a seat--and
+stopped to say a few words and gather news.
+
+"You will find your friend at Vilna," said one young officer, who
+had been attached to General Wilson's staff, and had many stories to
+tell of the energetic and indefatigable English commissioner.  "At
+Vilna we took twenty thousand prisoners--poor devils who came and
+asked us for food--and I don't know how many officers.  And if you
+see Wilson there, remember me to him.  If Napoleon has need to hate
+one man more than another for this business, it is that firebrand,
+Wilson.  Yes, you will assuredly find your cousin at Vilna among the
+prisoners.  But you must not linger by the road, for they are being
+sent back to Moscow to rebuild that which they have caused to be
+destroyed."
+
+He laughed and waved his gloved hand as D'Arragon drove on.
+
+After the broken land and low abrupt hills of Kowno, the country was
+flat again until the valley of the Vilia opened out.  And here,
+almost within sight of Vilna, D'Arragon drove down a short hill
+which must ever be historic.  He drove slowly, for on either side
+were gun-carriages deep sunken in the snow where the French had left
+them.  This hill marked the final degeneration of the Emperor's army
+into a shapeless rabble hopelessly flying before an exhausted enemy.
+
+Half on the road and half in the ditch were hundreds of carriages
+which had been hurriedly smashed up to provide firewood.  Carts,
+still laden with the booty of Moscow, stood among the trees.  Some
+of them contained small square boxes of silver coin, brought by
+Napoleon to pay his army and here abandoned.  Silver coin was too
+heavy to carry.  The rate of exchange had long been sixty francs in
+silver for a gold napoleon or a louis.  The cloth coverings of the
+cushions had been torn off to shape into rough garments; the straw
+stuffing had been eaten by the horses.
+
+Inside the carriages were--crouching on the floor--the frozen bodies
+of fugitives too badly wounded or too ill to attempt to walk.  They
+had sat there till death came to them.  Many were women.  In one
+carriage four women, in silks and fine linen, were huddled together.
+Their furs had been dragged from them either before or after death.
+
+Louis stopped at the bottom and looked back.  De Casimir at all
+events had succeeded in surmounting this obstacle which had proved
+fatal to so many--the grave of so many hopes--God's rubbish-heap,
+where gold and precious stones, silks and priceless furs, all that
+greedy men had schemed and striven and fought to get, fell from
+their hands at last.
+
+Vilna lies all down a slope--a city built upon several hills--and
+the Vilia runs at the bottom.  That Way of Sorrow, the Smolensk
+Road, runs eastward by the river bank, and here the rearguard held
+the Cossacks in check while Murat hastily decamped, after dark,
+westwards to Kowno.  The King of Naples, to whom Napoleon gave the
+command of his broken army quite gaily--"a vous, Roi de Naples," he
+is reported to have said, as he hurried to his carriage--Murat
+abandoned his sick and wounded; did not even warn the stragglers.
+
+D'Arragon entered the city by the narrow gate known as the Town
+Gate, through which, as through that greater portal of Moscow, every
+man must pass bareheaded.
+
+"The Emperor is here," were the first words spoken to him by the
+officer on guard.
+
+But the streets were quiet enough, and the winner in this great game
+of chance maintained the same unostentatious silence in victory as
+that which, in the hour of humiliation, had baffled Napoleon.
+
+It was almost night, and D'Arragon had been travelling since
+daylight.  He found a lodging, and, having secured the comfort of
+the horse provided by the lame shoemaker of Konigsberg, he went out
+into the streets in search of information.
+
+Few cities are, to this day, so behind the times as Vilna.  The
+streets are still narrow, winding, ill-paved, ill-lighted.  When
+D'Arragon quitted his lodging, he found no lights at all, for the
+starving soldiers had climbed to the lamps for the sake of the oil,
+which they had greedily drunk.  It was a full moon, however, and the
+patrols at the street corners were willing to give such information
+as they could.  They were strangers to Vilna like Louis himself, and
+not without suspicion; for this was a city which had bidden the
+French welcome.  There had been dancing and revelry on the outward
+march.  The citizens themselves were afraid of the strange, wild-
+eyed men who returned to them from Moscow.
+
+At last, in the Episcopal Palace, where head-quarters had been
+hurriedly established, Louis found the man he sought, the officer in
+charge of the arrangements for despatching prisoners into Russia and
+to Siberia.  He was a grizzled warrior of the old school, speaking
+only French and Russian.  He was tired out and hungry, but he
+listened to Louis' story.
+
+"There is the list," he said, "it is more or less complete.  Many
+have called themselves officers who never held a commission from the
+Emperor Napoleon.  But we have done what we can to sort them out."
+
+So Louis sat down in the dimly lighted room and deciphered the names
+of those officers who had been left behind, detained by illness or
+wounds or the lack of spirit to persevere.
+
+"You understand," said the Russian, returning to his work, "I cannot
+afford the time to help you.  We have twenty-five thousand prisoners
+to feed and keep alive."
+
+"Yes--I understand," answered Louis, who had the seaman's way of
+making himself a part of his surroundings.
+
+The old colonel glanced at him across the table with a grim smile.
+
+"The Emperor," he said, "was sitting in that chair an hour ago.  He
+may come back at any moment."
+
+"Ah!" said Louis, following the written lines with a pencil.
+
+But no interruption came, and at last the list was finished.
+Charles was not among the officers taken prisoner at Vilna.
+
+"Well?" inquired the Russian, without looking up.
+
+"Not there."
+
+The old officer took a sheet of paper and hurriedly wrote a few
+words on it.
+
+"Try the Basile Hospital to-morrow morning," he said.  "That will
+gain you admittance.  It is to be cleared out by the Emperor's
+orders.  We have about twenty thousand dead to dispose of as well--
+but they are in no hurry."
+
+He laughed grimly, and bade Louis good night.
+
+"Come to me again," he called out after him, drawn by a sudden chord
+of sympathy to this stranger, who had the rare capacity of confining
+himself to the business in hand.
+
+By daybreak the next morning Louis was at the hospital of St.
+Basile.  It had been prepared by the Duc de Bassano under Napoleon's
+orders when Vilna was selected as the base of the great army.  When
+the Russians entered Vilna after the retreating remnant of Murat's
+rabble, they found the dead and the dying in the streets and the
+market-place.  Some had made fires and had lain themselves down
+around them--to die.  Others were without food or firing, almost
+without clothes.  Many were barefoot.  All, officers and men alike,
+were in rags.  It was a piteous sight; for half of these men were no
+longer human.  Some were gnawing at their own limbs.  Many were
+blind, others had lost their speech or hearing.  Nearly all were
+marred by some disfigurement--some terrible sore, the result of a
+frozen wound, of frostbite, of scurvy, of gangrene.
+
+The Cossacks, half civilized as they were, wild with the excitement
+of killing and the chase of a human quarry, stood aghast in the
+streets of Vilna.
+
+When the Emperor arrived, he set to work to clear the streets first,
+to get these piteous men indoors.  There was no question yet of
+succouring them.  It was not even possible to feed them all.  The
+only thought was to find them some protection against the ruthless
+cold.
+
+The first thought was, of course, directed to the hospitals.  They
+looked in and saw a storehouse of the dead.  The dead could wait;
+but the living must be housed.
+
+So the dead waited, and it was their turn now at the St. Basile
+Hospital, where Louis presented himself at dawn.
+
+"Looking for some one?" asked a man in uniform, who must have been
+inside the hospital, for he hurried down the steps with a set mouth
+and quailing eyes.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Then don't go in--wait here."
+
+Louis looked in and took the doctor's advice.  The dead were stored
+in the passages, one on the top of the other, like bales of goods in
+a warehouse.
+
+Some attempt seemed to have been made to clear the wards, but those
+whose task it had been had not had time to do more than drag the
+dead out into the passage.
+
+The soldiers were now at work in the lower passage.  Carts began to
+arrive.  An officer told off to this dread duty came up hurriedly
+smoking a cigarette, his high fur collar about his ears.  He glanced
+at Louis, and bowed to him.
+
+"Looking for some one?" he asked.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Then stand here beside me.  It is I who have to keep count.  They
+say there are eight thousand in here.  They will be carried past
+here to the carts.  Have a cigarette."
+
+It is hard to talk when the thermometer registers more than twenty
+degrees of frost, for the lips stiffen and contract into wrinkles
+like the lips of a very old woman.  Perhaps neither of the watchers
+was in the humour to begin an acquaintance.
+
+They stood side by side, stamping their feet to keep the blood
+going, without speaking.  Once or twice Louis stepped forward, and
+at a signal from the officer the bearers stopped.  But Louis shook
+his head, and they passed on.  At midday the officer was relieved,
+his place being taken by another, who bowed stiffly to Louis and
+took no more notice of him.  For war either hardens or softens.  It
+never leaves a man as it found him.
+
+All day the work was carried on.  Through the hours this procession
+of the bearded dead went silently by.  At the invitation of a
+sergeant, Louis took some soup and bread from the soldiers' table.
+The men laughingly apologized for the quality of both.
+
+Towards evening the officer who had first come on duty returned to
+his work.
+
+"Not yet?" he asked, offering the inevitable cigarette.
+
+"Not yet," answered Louis, and even as he spoke he stepped forward
+and stopped the bearers.  He brushed aside the matted hair and
+beard.
+
+"Is that your friend?" asked the officer.
+
+"Yes."
+
+It was Charles at last.
+
+"The doctor says these have been dead two months," volunteered the
+first bearer, over his shoulder.
+
+"I am glad you have found him," said the officer, signing to the men
+to go on with their burden.  "It is better to know--is it not?"
+
+"Yes," answered Louis slowly.  "It is better to know."
+
+And something in his voice made the Russian officer turn and watch
+him as he went away.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIX.  THE BARGAIN.
+
+
+
+     Like plants in mines which never saw the sun,
+     But dream of him and guess where he may be,
+     And do their best to climb and get to him.
+
+"Oh yes," Barlasch was saying, "it is easier to die--it is that that
+you are thinking--it is easier to die."
+
+Desiree did not answer.  She was sitting in the little kitchen at
+the back of the house in the Frauengasse.  For they had no firing
+now, and were burning the furniture.  Her father had been buried a
+week.  The siege was drawn closer than ever.  There was nothing to
+eat, nothing to do, no one to talk to.  For Sebastian's political
+friends did not dare to come near his house.  Desiree was alone in
+this hopeless world with Barlasch, who was on duty now in one of the
+trenches near the river.  He went out in the morning, and only
+returned at night.  He had just come in, and she could see by the
+light of the single candle that his face was grey and haggard, with
+deep lines drawn downwards from eyes to chin.  Desiree's own face
+had lost all its roundness and the bloom of her northern girlhood.
+
+Barlasch glanced at her, and bit his lip.  He had brought nothing
+with him.  At one time he had always managed to bring something to
+the house every day--a chicken, or a turnip, or a few carrots.  But
+to-night there was nothing.  And he was tired out.  He did not sit
+down, however, but stood breathing on his fingers and rubbing them
+together to restore circulation.  He pushed the candle farther
+forward on the table, so that it cast a better light upon her face.
+
+"Yes," he said, "it is often so.  I, who speak to you, have seen it
+so a dozen times in my life.  When it is easier to sit down and die.
+Bah!  That is a fine thing to do--a brave thing--to sit down and
+die."
+
+"I am not going to do it, so do not make that mistake," said
+Desiree, with a laugh that had no mirth in it.
+
+"But you would like to.  Listen.  It is not what you feel that
+matters; it is what you do.  Remember that."
+
+There was an unusual vigour in his voice.  Of late, since the death
+of Sebastian, Barlasch seemed to have fallen victim to the settled
+apathy which lives within a prison wall and broods over a besieged
+city.  It is a sort of silent mourning worn by the soul for a lost
+liberty.  Dantzig had soon succumbed to it, for the citizens had not
+even the satisfaction of being quite sure that they were deserving
+of the world's sympathy.  It soon spread to the soldiers who were
+defending a Prussian city for a French Emperor who seemed to have
+forgotten them.
+
+But to-night Barlasch seemed to be more energetic.  Desiree looked
+round over her shoulder.  He had not laid on the table any
+contribution to a bare larder; and yet his manner was that of one
+who has prepared a surprise and is waiting to enjoy its effect.  He
+was restless, moving from one foot to another, rubbing together his
+crooked fingers and darting sidelong glances at her face.
+
+"What is it?" she asked suddenly, and Barlasch gave a start as if he
+had been detected in some deceit.  He bustled forward to the
+smouldering fire and held his hands over it.
+
+"It is that it is very cold to-night," he answered, with that
+exaggerated ease of manner with which the young and the simple seek
+to conceal embarrassment.  "Tell me, mademoiselle, what have we for
+supper to-night?  It is I who will cook it.  To-night we will keep a
+fete.  There is that piece of beef for you.  I know a way to make it
+appetizing.  For me there is my portion of horse.  It is the friend
+of man--the horse."
+
+He laughed and made an effort to be gay, which had a poignant pathos
+in it that made Desiree bite her lip.
+
+"What fete is it that we are to keep?" she asked, with a wan smile.
+Her kind blue eyes had that glitter in them which is caused by a
+constant and continuous hunger.  Six months ago they had only been
+gay and kind, now they saw the world as it is, as it always must be
+so long as the human heart is capable of happiness and the human
+reason recognizes the rarity of its attainment.
+
+"The fete of St. Matthias--my fete, mademoiselle."
+
+"But I thought your name was Jean."
+
+"So it is.  But I keep my fete at St. Matthias, because on that day
+we won a battle in Egypt.  We will have wine--a bottle of wine--eh?"
+
+So Barlasch prepared a great feast which was to be celebrated by
+Desiree in the dining-room, where he lighted a fire, and by himself
+in the kitchen.  For he held strongly to a code of social laws which
+the great Revolution had not succeeded in breaking.  And one of
+these laws was that it would be in some way degrading to Desiree to
+see him eat.
+
+He was a skilled and delicate cook, only hampered by that insatiable
+passion for economy which is the dominant characteristic of the
+peasant of Northern France.  To-night, however, he was reckless, and
+Desiree could hear him searching in his secret hiding-place beneath
+the floor for concealed condiments and herbs.
+
+"There," he said, when he set the dish before her, "eat it with an
+easy mind.  There is nothing unclean in it.  It is not rat or cat or
+the liver of a starved horse, such as we others eat and ask no
+better.  It is all clean meat."
+
+He poured out wine, and stood in the darkened doorway watching her
+drink it.  Then he went away to his own meal in the kitchen, leaving
+Desiree vaguely uneasy--for he was not himself to-night.  She could
+hear him muttering as he ate and moved hither and thither in the
+kitchen.  At short intervals he came and looked in at the door to
+make sure that she was doing full honour to St. Matthias.  When she
+had finished, he came into the room.
+
+"Ah!" he said, glancing at her suspiciously and rubbing his hands
+together.  "That strengthens, eh?--that strengthens.  We others who
+lead a rough life--we know that a little food and a glass of wine
+fit one out for any enterprise, for--well, any catastrophe."
+
+And Desiree knew in a flash of comprehension that the food and the
+wine and the forced gaiety were nothing but preliminaries to bad
+news.
+
+"What is it?" she asked a second time.  "Is it . . . bombardment?"
+
+"Bombardment," he laughed, "they cannot shoot, those Cossacks.  It
+is only the French who understand artillery."
+
+"Then what is it?--for you have something to tell me, I know."
+
+He ruffled his shock-head of white hair, with a grimace of despair.
+
+"Yes," he admitted, "it is news."
+
+"From outside?" cried Desiree, with a sudden break in her voice.
+
+"From Vilna," answered Barlasch.  He came into the room, and went
+past her towards the fire, where he put the logs together carefully.
+
+"It is that he is alive," said Desiree, "my husband."
+
+"No, it is not that," Barlasch corrected.  He stood with his back to
+her, vaguely warming his hands.  He had no learning, nor manners,
+nor any polish:  nothing but those instincts of the heart that teach
+the head.  And his instinct bade him turn his back on Desiree, and
+wait in silence until she had understood his meaning.
+
+"Dead?" she asked, in a whisper.
+
+And, still warming his hands, he nodded his head vigorously.  He
+waited a long time for her to speak, and at last broke the silence
+himself without looking round.
+
+"Troubles," he said, "troubles for us all.  There is no avoiding
+them.  One can only push against them as against your cold wind of
+Dantzig that comes from the sea.  One can only push on.  You must
+push, mademoiselle."
+
+"When did he die?" asked Desiree; "where?"
+
+"At Vilna, three months ago.  He has been dead three months.  I knew
+he was dead when you came back to the inn at Thorn, and told me that
+you had seen De Casimir.  De Casimir had left him dying--that liar.
+You remember, I met a comrade on the road--one of my own country--he
+told me that they had left ten thousand dead at Vilna, and twenty
+thousand prisoners little better than dead.  And I knew then that De
+Casimir had left him there dying, or dead."
+
+He glanced back at her over his shoulder, and at the sight of her
+face made that little click in his throat which, in peasant circles,
+denotes a catastrophe.  Then he shook his head slowly from side to
+side.
+
+"Listen," he said roughly, "the good God knows best.  I knew when I
+saw you first, that day in June, in this kitchen, that you were
+beginning your troubles; for I knew the reputation of Monsieur, your
+husband.  He was not what you thought him.  A man is never what a
+woman thinks him.  But he was worse than most.  And this trouble
+that has come to you is chosen by the good God--and he has chosen
+the least in his sack for you.  You will know it some day--as I know
+it now."
+
+"You know a great deal," said Desiree, who was quick in speech, and
+he swung round on his heel to meet her spirit.
+
+"You are right," he said, pointing his accusatory finger.  "I know a
+great deal about you--and I am a very old man."
+
+"How did you learn this news from Vilna?" she asked, and his hand
+went up to his mouth as if to hide his thoughts and control his
+lips.
+
+"From one who comes straight from there--who buried your husband
+there."
+
+Desiree rose and stood with her hands resting on the table, looking
+at the persistent back again turned towards her.
+
+"Who?" she asked, in little more than a whisper.
+
+"The Captain--Louis d'Arragon."
+
+"And you have spoken to him to-day--here, in Dantzig?"
+
+Barlasch nodded his head.
+
+"Was he well?" asked Desiree, with a spontaneous anxiety that made
+Barlasch turn slowly and look at her from beneath his great brows.
+
+"Oh, he was well enough," he answered, "he is made of steel, that
+gentleman.  He was well enough, and he has the courage of the devil.
+There are some fishermen who come from Zoppot to sell their fish.
+They steal through the Russian lines--on the ice of the river at
+night and come to our outposts at daylight.  One of them said my
+name this morning.  I looked at him.  He was wrapped up only to show
+the eyes.  He drew his scarf aside.  It was the Captain d'Arragon."
+
+"And he was well?" asked Desiree again, as if nothing else in the
+world mattered.
+
+"Oh, mon Dieu, yes," cried Barlasch, impatiently, "he was well, I
+tell you.  Do you know why he came?"
+
+Desiree had sat down at the table again, where she leant her arms
+and rested her chin in the palms of her two hands; for she was
+weakened by starvation, and confinement, and sorrow.
+
+"No," she answered.
+
+"He came because he had learnt that the patron was dead.  It was
+known in Konigsberg a week ago.  It is known all over Germany; that
+quiet old gentleman who scraped a fiddle here in the Frauengasse.
+And it is only I, in all the world, who know that he was a greater
+man in Paris than ever he was in Germany--with his Tugendbund--and I
+cannot remember his name."
+
+Barlasch broke off and thumped his brow with his fists, as if to
+awaken that dead memory.  And all the while he was searching
+Desiree's face, with eyes made brighter and sharper than ever by
+starvation.
+
+"And do you know what he came for--the Captain--for he never does
+anything in idleness?  He will run a great risk--but it is for a
+great purpose.  Do you know what he came for?"
+
+"No."
+
+Barlasch jerked his head back and laughed.
+
+"For you."
+
+He turned and looked at her; but she had raised her clasped hands to
+her forehead, as if to shield her eyes from the light of the candle,
+and he could not see her face.
+
+"Do you remember," said Barlasch, "that night when the patron was so
+angry--on the mat--when Mademoiselle Mathilde had to make her
+choice.  It is your turn to-night.  You have to make your choice.
+Will you go?"
+
+"Yes," answered Desiree, behind her fingers.
+
+"'If Mademoiselle will come,' he said to me, 'bring her to this
+place!'  'Yes, mon capitaine,' answered I.  'At any cost, Barlasch?'
+'At any cost, mon capitaine.'  And we are not men to break our
+words.  I will take you there--at any cost, mademoiselle.  And he
+will meet you there--at any cost."
+
+And Barlasch expectorated emphatically into the fire, after the
+manner of low-born men.
+
+"What a pity," he added reflectively, "that he is only an
+Englishman."
+
+"When are we to go?" asked Desiree, still behind her barrier of
+clasped fingers.
+
+"To-morrow night, after midnight.  We have arranged it all--the
+Captain and I--at the outpost nearest to the river.  He has
+influence.  He has rendered services to the Russians, and the
+Russian commander will make a night attack on the outpost.  In the
+confusion we get through.  We arranged it together.  He pays me
+well.  It is a bargain, and I am to have my money.  We shook hands
+on it, and those who saw us must have thought that I was buying
+fish.  I, who have no money--and he, who had no fish."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXX.  THE FULFILMENT.
+
+
+
+     And I have laboured somewhat in my time
+     And not been paid profusely.
+
+When Desiree came down the next morning, she found Barlasch talking
+to himself and laughing as he prepared his breakfast.
+
+He met her with a gay salutation, and seemed unable to control his
+hilarity.
+
+"It is," he explained, "because to-night we shall be under fire.  We
+shall be in danger.  It makes me afraid, and I laugh.  I cannot help
+it.  When I am afraid, I laugh."
+
+He bustled about the room, and Desiree saw that he had already
+opened his secret store beneath the floor, to take from it such
+delicacies as remained.
+
+"You slept?" he asked sharply.  "Yes, I can see you did.  That is
+good, for to-night we shall be awake.  And now you must eat."
+
+For Barlasch was a materialist.  He had fought death in one form or
+another all his life, and he knew that those who eat and sleep are
+better equipped for the battle than those who cherish high ideals or
+think great thoughts.
+
+"It is a good thing," he said, looking at her, "that you are so
+slim.  In a military coat--if you put on that short dress in which
+you skate, and your high boots--you will look like a soldier.  It is
+a good thing that it is winter, for you can wear the hood of your
+military coat over your head, as they all do out in the trenches to
+keep their ears from falling.  So you need not cut off your hair--
+all that golden hair.  Name of thunder, that would be a pity, would
+it not?"
+
+He turned to the fire and stirred his coffee reflectively.
+
+"In my own country," he said, "a long time ago, there was a girl who
+had hair like yours.  That is why we are friends, perhaps."
+
+He gave a queer, short laugh, and took up his sheepskin coat
+preparatory to going out.
+
+"I have my preparations to make," he said, with an air of
+importance.  "There is much to be thought of.  We had not long
+together, for the others were watching us.  But we understand each
+other.  I go now to give him the signal that it is for to-night.  I
+have borrowed one of Lisa's dusters--a blue one that will show
+against the snow--with which to give him the signal.  And he is
+watching from Zoppot with his telescope.  That fat Lisa--if I had
+held up my finger, she would have fallen in love with me.  It has
+always been so.  These women--"
+
+And he went away muttering.
+
+If he had preparations to make, Desiree had no less.  She could take
+but little with her, and she was quitting the house which had always
+been her home so long as she could remember.  Those trunks which
+Barlasch had so unhesitatingly recognized as coming from France
+were, it seemed, destined never to be used again.  Mathilde had
+gone, taking with her her few simple possessions; for they had
+always been poor in the Frauengasse.  Sebastian had departed on that
+journey which the traveller must face alone, taking naught with him.
+And it was characteristic of the man that he had left nothing behind
+him--no papers, no testament, no clue to that other life so
+different from his life in the Frauengasse that it must have lapsed
+into a fleeting, intangible memory, such as the brain is sometimes
+allowed to retain of a dream dreamt in this existence, or perhaps in
+another.  Sebastian was gone--with his secret.
+
+Desiree, alone with hers, was left in this quiet house for a few
+hours longer.  Mechanically she set it in order.  What would it
+matter to-morrow whether it were set in order or not?  Who would
+come to note the last touches?  She worked with that feverish haste
+which is responsible for much unnecessary woman's work in this
+world--the haste that owes its existence to the fear of having time
+to think.  Many talk for the same reason.  What a quiet world, if
+those who have nothing to say said nothing!  But speech or work must
+fail at last, and lo! the thoughts are lying in wait.
+
+Desiree's thoughts found their opportunity when she went into the
+drawing-room upstairs, where her wedding-breakfast had been set
+before the guests only eight months ago.  The guests--De Casimir,
+the Grafin, Sebastian, Mathilde, Charles!
+
+Desiree stood alone now in the silent room.  She did not look at the
+table.  The guests were all gone.  The dead past had buried its
+dead.  She went to the window and drew aside the curtain as she had
+drawn it aside on her wedding-day to look down into the Frauengasse
+and see Louis d'Arragon.  And again her heart leapt in her breast
+with that throb of fear.  She turned where she stood, and looked at
+the door as if she expected to see Charles come in at it, laughing
+and gay, explaining (he was so good at explaining) his encounter in
+the street, and stepping aside to allow Louis to come forward.
+Louis, who looked at no one but her, and came into the room and into
+her life.
+
+She had been afraid of him.  She was afraid of him still.  And her
+heart had leapt at the thought that he had been restlessly,
+sleeplessly thinking of her, working for her--had been to Vilna and
+back for her, and was now waiting for her beyond the barrier of
+Russian camp-fires.  The dangers which made Barlasch laugh--and she
+knew they were real enough, for it was only a real danger that
+stirred something in the old soldier's blood to make him gay--these
+dangers were of no account.  She knew, she had known instantly and
+for all time when she looked down into the Frauengasse and saw
+Louis, that nothing in heaven or earth could keep them apart.
+
+She stood now, looking at the empty doorway.  What was the rest of
+her life to be?
+
+Barlasch returned in the afternoon.  He was leisurely and inclined
+to contemplativeness.  It would seem that his preparations having
+all been completed, he was left with nothing to do.  War is a
+purifier; it clears the social atmosphere and puts womanly men and
+manly women into their right places.  It is also a simplifier; it
+teaches us to know how little we really require in daily life, and
+how many of the environments with which men and women hamper
+themselves are superfluous and the fruit of idleness.
+
+"I have nothing to do," said Barlasch, "I will cook a careful
+dinner.  All that I have saved in money I cannot carry away; all
+that was stored beneath the floor must be left there.  It is often
+so in war."
+
+He had told Desiree that they would have to walk twelve miles across
+the snow-clad marshes bordering the frozen Vistula, between midnight
+and dawn.  It needed no telling that they could carry little with
+them.
+
+"You will have to make a new beginning in life," he said curtly,
+"with the clothes upon your back.  How many times have I done it--
+the Saints alone know!  But take money, if you have it in gold or
+silver.  Mine is all in copper groschen, and it is too heavy to
+carry.  I have never yet been anywhere that money was not useful--
+and name of a dog! I have never had it."
+
+So Desiree divided what money she possessed with Barlasch, who added
+it carefully up and repeated several times for accuracy the tale of
+what he had received.  For, like many who do not hesitate to steal,
+he was very particular in money matters.
+
+"As for me," he said, "I shall make a new beginning, too.  The
+Captain will enable me to get back to France, when I shall go to the
+Emperor again.  It is no place for one of the Old Guard, here with
+Rapp.  I am getting old, but he will find something for me to do,
+that little Emperor."
+
+At midnight they set out, quitting the house in the Frauengasse
+noiselessly.  The street was quiet enough, for half the houses were
+empty now.  Their footsteps were inaudible on the trodden snow.  It
+was a dark night and not cold; for the great frosts of this terrible
+winter were nearly over.
+
+Barlasch carried his musket and bayonet.  He had instructed Desiree
+to walk in front of him, should they meet a patrol.  But Rapp had no
+men to spare for patrolling the town.  There was no spirit left in
+Dantzig; for typhus and starvation patrolled the narrow streets.
+
+They quitted the town to the north-west, near the Oliva Gate.  There
+was no guard-house here because Langfuhr was held by the French, and
+Rapp's outposts were three miles out on the road to Zoppot.
+
+"I have played this game for fifty years," said Barlasch, with a low
+laugh, when they reached the earthworks, completed, at such enormous
+cost of life and strength, by Rapp; "follow me and do as I do.  When
+I stoop, stoop; when I crawl, crawl; when I run, run."
+
+For he was a soldier now and nothing else.  He stood erect, and
+looked round him with the air of a young man--ready, keen, alert.
+Then he moved forward with confidence towards the high land which
+terminates in the Johannesberg, where the peaceful Dantzigers now
+repair on a Sunday afternoon to drink thin beer and admire the view.
+
+Below them on the right hand lay the marshes, a white expanse of
+snow with a single dark line drawn across it--the Langfuhr road with
+its double border of trees.
+
+Barlasch turned once or twice to make sure that Desiree was
+following him; but he added nothing to his brief instructions.  When
+he gained the summit of the tableland which runs parallel with the
+coast and the Langfuhr road, he paused for breath.
+
+"When I crawl, crawl.  When I run, run," he whispered again; and led
+the way.  He went up the bed of a stream, turning his back to the
+coast, and at a certain point stopped and by a gesture of the hand
+bade Desiree crouch down and wait till he returned.  He came back
+and signed to her to quit the bed of the stream and follow him.
+When she came up to the tableland, she found that they were quite
+close to a camp-fire.  Through the low pines she could perceive the
+dark outline of a house.
+
+"Now run," whispered Barlasch, leading the way across an open space
+which seemed to extend to the line of the horizon.  Without looking
+back, Desiree ran--her only thought was a sudden surprise that
+Barlasch could move so quickly and silently.
+
+When he gained the shelter of some trees, he threw himself down on
+the snow, and Desiree coming up to him found him breathlessly
+holding his sides and laughing aloud.
+
+"We are through the lines," he gasped, "name of a dog, I was so
+frightened.  There they go--pam! pam!  Buz . . z . . z . ."
+
+And he imitated the singing buzz of the bullets humming through the
+trees over their heads.  For half a dozen shots were fired, while he
+was yet speaking, from behind the camp-fires.  There were no more,
+however, and presently, having recovered his breath, Barlasch rose.
+
+"Come," he said, "we have a long walk.  En route."
+
+They made a great circuit in the pine-woods, through which Barlasch
+led the way with an unerring skill, and descending towards the plain
+far beyond Langfuhr they came out on to a lower tableland, below
+which the great marshes of the Vistula stretched in the darkness,
+slowly merging at last into the sea.
+
+"Those," said Barlasch, pausing at the edge of the slope, "those are
+the lights of Oliva, where the Russians are.  That line of lights
+straight in front is the Russian fleet lying off Zoppot, and with
+them are English ships.  One of them is the little ship of Captain
+d'Arragon.  And he will take you home with him; for the ship is
+ordered to England, to Plymouth--which is across the Channel from my
+own country.  Ah--cristi!  I sometimes want to see my own country
+again--and my own people--mademoiselle."
+
+He went on a few paces and then stopped again, and in the darkness
+held up one hand, commanding silence.  It was the churches of
+Dantzig striking the hour.
+
+"Six o'clock," he whispered, "it will soon be dawn.  Yes--we are
+half an hour too early."
+
+He sat down, and, by a gesture, bade Desiree sit beside him.
+
+"Yes," he said, "the Captain told me that he is bound for England to
+convoy larger ships, and you will sail in one of them.  He has a
+home in the west of England, and he will take you there--a sister or
+a mother, I forget which--some woman.  You cannot get on without
+women--you others.  It is there that you will be happy, as the bon
+Dieu meant you to be.  It is only in England that no one fears
+Napoleon.  One may have a husband there and not fear that he will be
+killed.  One may have children and not tremble for them--and it is
+that that makes you happy--you women."
+
+Presently he rose and led the way down the slope.  At the foot of
+it, he paused, and pointing out a long line of trees, said in a
+whisper--
+
+"He is there--where there are three taller trees.  Between us and
+those trees are the French outposts.  At dawn the Russians attack
+the outposts, and during the attack we have simply to go through it
+to those trees.  There is no other way--that is the rendezvous.
+Those three tall trees.  When I give the word, you get up and run to
+those trees--run without pausing, without looking round.  I will
+follow.  It is you he has come for--not Barlasch.  You think I know
+nothing.  Bah! I know everything.  I have always known it--your poor
+little secret."
+
+They lay on the snow crouching in a ditch until a grey line appeared
+low down in the Eastern sky and the horizon slowly distinguished
+itself from the thin thread of cloud that nearly always awaits the
+rising of the sun in Northern latitudes.
+
+A minute later the dark group of trees broke into intermittent flame
+and the sharp, short "Hurrah!" of the Cossacks, like an angry bark,
+came sweeping across the plain on the morning breeze.
+
+"Not yet," whispered Barlasch, with a gay chuckle of enjoyment.
+"Not yet--not yet.  Listen, the bullets are not coming here, but are
+going past to the right of us.  When you go, keep to the left.
+Slowly at first--keep a little breath till the end.  Now, up!
+Mademoiselle, run; name of thunder, let us run!"
+
+Desiree did not understand which were the French lines and which the
+line of Russian attack.  But there was a clear way to the three
+trees which stood above the rest, and she went towards them.  She
+knew she could not run so far, so she walked.  Then the bullets,
+instead of passing to the right, seemed to play round her--like bees
+in a garden on a summer day--and she ran until she was tired.
+
+The trees were quite close now, and the sky was light behind them.
+Then she saw Louis coming towards her, and she ran into his arms.
+The sound of the humming bullets was still in her dazed brain, and
+she touched him all over with her gloved hand as she clung to him,
+as a mother touches her child when it has fallen, to see whether it
+be hurt.
+
+"How was I to know?" she whispered breathlessly.  "How was I to know
+that you were to come into my life?"
+
+The bullets did not matter, it seemed, nor the roar of the firing to
+the right of them.  Nothing mattered--except that Louis must know
+that she had never loved Charles.
+
+He held her and said nothing.  And she wanted him to say nothing.
+Then she remembered Barlasch, and looked back over her shoulder.
+
+"Where is Barlasch?" she asked, with a sudden sinking at her heart.
+
+"He is coming slowly," replied Louis.  "He came slowly behind you
+all the time, so as to draw the fire away from you."
+
+They turned and waited for Barlasch, who seemed to be going in the
+wrong direction with an odd vagueness in his movements.  Louis ran
+towards him with Desiree at his heels.
+
+"Ca-y-est," said Barlasch; which cannot be translated, and yet has
+many meanings.  "Ca-y-est."
+
+And he sat down slowly on the snow.  He sat quite upright and rigid,
+and in the cold light of the Baltic dawn they saw the meaning of his
+words.  One hand was within his fur coat.  He drew it out, and
+concealed it from Desiree behind his back.  He did not seem to see
+them, but presently he put out his hand and lightly touched Desiree.
+Then he turned to Louis with that confidential drop of the voice
+with which he always distinguished his friends from those who were
+not his friends.
+
+"What is she doing?" he asked.  "I cannot see in the dark.  Is it
+not dark?  I thought it was.  What is she doing?  Saying a prayer?
+What--because I have my affair?  Hey, mademoiselle.  You may leave
+it to me.  I will get in, I tell you that."
+
+He put his finger to his nose, and then shook it from side to side
+with an air of deep cunning.
+
+"Leave it to me.  I shall slip in.  Who will stop an old man, who
+has many wounds?  Not St. Peter, assuredly.  Let him try.  And if
+the good God hears a commotion at the gate, He will only shrug His
+shoulders.  He will say to St. Peter, 'Let pass; it is only Papa
+Barlasch!'"
+
+And then there was silence.  For Barlasch had gone to his own
+people.
+
+
+
+
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, BARLASCH OF THE GUARD ***
+
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+<html>
+<head>
+<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=US-ASCII" />
+<title>Barlasch of the Guard</title>
+</head>
+<body>
+<h2>
+<a href="#startoftext">Barlasch of the Guard, by H. S. Merriman</a>
+</h2>
+<pre>
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Barlasch of the Guard, by H. S. Merriman
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+Title: Barlasch of the Guard
+
+Author: H. S. Merriman
+
+Release Date: May, 2005  [EBook #8158]
+[This file was first posted on June 22, 2003]
+
+Edition: 10
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: US-ASCII
+</pre>
+<p><a name="startoftext"></a></p>
+<p>This etext was produced by Les Bowler, St. Ives, Dorset.</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines3"><br /><br /><br /></div>
+<h1>BARLASCH OF THE GUARD BY HENRY SETON MERRIMAN</h1>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines3"><br /><br /><br /></div>
+<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<i>&ldquo;And they that have not heard
+shall understand&rdquo;</i></p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines3"><br /><br /><br /></div>
+<p>CONTENTS</p>
+<p>CHAPTER</p>
+<p>I.&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;  ALL ON A SUMMER&rsquo;S DAY<br />II.&nbsp;
+&nbsp; &nbsp; A CAMPAIGNER<br />III.&nbsp; &nbsp;  FATE<br />IV.&nbsp;
+&nbsp; &nbsp; THE CLOUDED MOON<br />V.&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;  THE WEISSEN
+R&Ouml;SS&rsquo;L<br />VI.&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; THE SHOEMAKER OF K&Ouml;NIGSBERG<br />VII.&nbsp;
+&nbsp;  THE WAY OF LOVE<br />VIII.&nbsp; &nbsp; A VISITATION<br />IX.&nbsp;
+&nbsp; &nbsp; THE GOLDEN GUESS<br />X.&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;  IN DEEP
+WATER<br />XI.&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; THE WAVE MOVES ON<br />XII.&nbsp;
+&nbsp;  FROM BORODINO<br />XIII.&nbsp; &nbsp; IN THE DAY OF REJOICING<br />XIV.&nbsp;
+&nbsp;  MOSCOW<br />XV.&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; THE GOAL<br />XVI.&nbsp;
+&nbsp;  THE FIRST OF THE EBB<br />XVII.&nbsp; &nbsp; A FORLORN HOPE<br />XVIII.&nbsp;
+ MISSING<br />XIX.&nbsp; &nbsp;  KOWNO<br />XX.&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;
+D&Eacute;SIR&Eacute;E&rsquo;S CHOICE<br />XXI.&nbsp; &nbsp;  ON THE
+WARSAW ROAD<br />XXII.&nbsp; &nbsp; THROUGH THE SHOALS<br />XXIII.&nbsp;
+ AGAINST THE STREAM<br />XXIV.&nbsp; &nbsp; MATHILDE CHOOSES<br />XXV.&nbsp;
+&nbsp;  A DESPATCH<br />XXVI.&nbsp; &nbsp; ON THE BRIDGE<br />XXVII.&nbsp;
+ A FLASH OF MEMORY<br />XXVIII.&nbsp; VILNA<br />XXIX.&nbsp; &nbsp;
+THE BARGAIN<br />XXX.&nbsp; &nbsp;  THE FULFILMENT</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<h2>CHAPTER I.&nbsp; ALL ON A SUMMER&rsquo;S DAY.</h2>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<i>Il faut devoir lever les yeux pour
+regarder ce qu&rsquo;on aime.</i></p>
+<p>A few children had congregated on the steps of the Marienkirche at
+Dantzig, because the door stood open.&nbsp; The verger, old Peter Koch&mdash;on
+week days a locksmith&mdash;had told them that nothing was going to
+happen; had been indiscreet enough to bid them go away.&nbsp; So they
+stayed, for they were little girls.</p>
+<p>A wedding was in point of fact in progress within the towering walls
+of the Marienkirche&mdash;a cathedral built of red brick in the great
+days of the Hanseatic League.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Who is it?&rdquo; asked a stout fishwife, stepping over the
+threshold to whisper to Peter Koch.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It is the younger daughter of Antoine Sebastian,&rdquo; replied
+the verger, indicating with a nod of his head the house on the left-hand
+side of the Frauengasse where Sebastian lived.&nbsp; There was a wealth
+of meaning in the nod.&nbsp; For Peter Koch lived round the corner in
+the Kleine Schmiedegasse, and of course&mdash;well, it is only neighbourly
+to take an interest in those who drink milk from the same cow and buy
+wood from the same Jew.</p>
+<p>The fishwife looked thoughtfully down the Frauengasse where every
+house has a different gable, and none of less than three floors within
+the pitch of the roof.&nbsp; She singled out No. 36, which has a carved
+stone balustrade to its broad verandah and a railing of wrought-iron
+on either side of the steps descending from the verandah to the street.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;They teach dancing?&rdquo; she inquired.</p>
+<p>And Koch nodded again, taking snuff.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And he&mdash;the father?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He scrapes a fiddle,&rdquo; replied the verger, examining
+the lady&rsquo;s basket of fish in a non-committing and final way.&nbsp;
+For a locksmith is almost as confidential an adviser as a notary.&nbsp;
+The Dantzigers, moreover, are a thrifty race and keep their money in
+a safe place; a habit which was to cost many of them their lives before
+the coming of another June.</p>
+<p>The marriage service was a long one and not exhilarating.&nbsp; Through
+the open door came no sound of organ or choir, but the deep and monotonous
+drawl of one voice.&nbsp; There had been no ringing of bells.&nbsp;
+The north countries, with the exception of Russia, require more than
+the ringing of bells or the waving of flags to warm their hearts.&nbsp;
+They celebrate their festivities with good meat and wine consumed decently
+behind closed doors.</p>
+<p>Dantzig was in fact under a cloud.&nbsp; No larger than a man&rsquo;s
+hand, this cloud had risen in Corsica forty-three years earlier.&nbsp;
+It had overshadowed France.&nbsp; Its gloom had spread to Italy, Austria,
+Spain; had penetrated so far north as Sweden; was now hanging sullen
+over Dantzig, the greatest of the Hanseatic towns, the Free City.&nbsp;
+For a Dantziger had never needed to say that he was a Pole or a Prussian,
+a Swede or a subject of the Czar.&nbsp; He was a Dantziger.&nbsp; Which
+is tantamount to having for a postal address a single name that is marked
+on the map.</p>
+<p>Napoleon had garrisoned the Free City with French troops some years
+earlier, to the sullen astonishment of the citizens.&nbsp; And Prussia
+had not objected for a very obvious reason.&nbsp; Within the last fourteen
+months the garrison had been greatly augmented.&nbsp; The clouds seemed
+to be gathering over this prosperous city of the north, where, however,
+men continued to eat and drink, to marry and to be given in marriage
+as in another city of the plain.</p>
+<p>Peter Koch replaced his snuff-stained handkerchief in the pocket
+of his rusty cassock and stood aside.&nbsp; He murmured a few conventional
+words of blessing, hard on the heels of stronger exhortations to the
+waiting children.&nbsp; And D&eacute;sir&eacute;e Sebastian came out
+into the sunlight&mdash;D&eacute;sir&eacute;e Sebastian no more.</p>
+<p>That she was destined for the sunlight was clearly written on her
+face and in her gay, kind blue eyes.&nbsp; She was tall and straight
+and slim, as are English and Polish and Danish girls, and none other
+in all the world.&nbsp; But the colouring of her face and hair was more
+pronounced than in the fairness of Anglo-Saxon youth.&nbsp; For her
+hair had a golden tinge in it, and her skin was of that startlingly
+milky whiteness which is only found in those who live round the frozen
+waters.&nbsp; Her eyes, too, were of a clearer blue&mdash;like the blue
+of a summer sky over the Baltic sea.&nbsp; The rosy colour was in her
+cheeks, her eyes were laughing.&nbsp; This was a bride who had no misgivings.</p>
+<p>On seeing such a happy face returning from the altar the observer
+might have concluded that the bride had assuredly attained her desire;
+that she had secured a title; that the pre-nuptial settlement had been
+safely signed and sealed.</p>
+<p>But D&eacute;sir&eacute;e had none of these things.&nbsp; It was
+nearly a hundred years ago.</p>
+<p>Her husband must have whispered some laughing comment on Koch, or
+another appeal to her quick sense of the humorous, for she looked into
+his changing face and gave a low, girlish laugh of amusement as they
+descended the steps together into the brilliant sunlight.</p>
+<p>Charles Darragon wore one of the countless uniforms that enlivened
+the outward world in the great days of the greatest captain that history
+has seen.&nbsp; He was unmistakably French&mdash;unmistakably a French
+gentleman, as rare in 1812 as he is to-day.&nbsp; To judge from his
+small head and clean-cut features, fine and mobile; from his graceful
+carriage and slight limbs, this man was one of the many bearing names
+that begin with the fourth letter of the alphabet since the Terror only.</p>
+<p>He was merely a lieutenant in a regiment of Alsatian recruits; but
+that went for nothing in the days of the Empire.&nbsp; Three kings in
+Europe had begun no farther up the ladder.</p>
+<p>The Frauengasse is a short street, made narrow by the terrace that
+each house throws outward from its face, each seeking to gain a few
+inches on its neighbour.&nbsp; It runs from the Marienkirche to the
+Frauenthor, and remains to-day as it was built three hundred years ago.</p>
+<p>D&eacute;sir&eacute;e nodded and laughed to the children, who interested
+her.&nbsp; She was quite simple and womanly, as some women, it is to
+be hoped, may succeed in continuing until the end of time.&nbsp; She
+was always pleased to see children; was glad, it seemed, that they should
+have congregated on the steps to watch her pass.&nbsp; Charles, with
+a faint and unconscious reflex of that grand manner which had brought
+his father to the guillotine, felt in his pocket for money, and found
+none.</p>
+<p>He jerked his hand out with widespread fingers, in a gesture indicative
+of familiarity with the nakedness of the land.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I have nothing, little citizens,&rdquo; he said with a mock
+gravity; &ldquo;nothing but my blessing.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>And he made a gay gesture with his left hand over their heads, not
+the act of benediction, but of peppering, which made them all laugh.&nbsp;
+The bride and bridegroom passing on joined in the laughter with hearts
+as light and voices scarcely less youthful.</p>
+<p>The Frauengasse is intersected by the Pfaffengasse at right angles,
+through which narrow and straight street passes much of the traffic
+towards the Langenmarkt, the centre of the town.&nbsp; As the little
+bridal procession reached the corner of this street, it halted at the
+approach of some mounted troops.&nbsp; There was nothing unusual in
+this sight in the streets of Dantzig, which were accustomed now to the
+clatter of the Saxon cavalry.</p>
+<p>But at the sight of the first troopers Charles Darragon threw up
+his head with a little exclamation of surprise.</p>
+<p>D&eacute;sir&eacute;e looked at him and then turned to follow the
+direction of his gaze.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What are these?&rdquo; she murmured.&nbsp; For the uniforms
+were new and unfamiliar.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Cavalry of the Old Guard,&rdquo; replied her husband, and
+as he spoke he caught his breath.</p>
+<p>The horsemen vanished into the continuation of the Pfaffengasse,
+and immediately behind them came a travelling carriage, swung on high
+wheels, three times the size of a Dantzig drosky, white with dust.&nbsp;
+It had small square windows.&nbsp; As D&eacute;sir&eacute;e drew back
+in obedience to a movement of her husband&rsquo;s arm, she saw a face
+for an instant&mdash;pale and set&mdash;with eyes that seemed to look
+at everything and yet at something beyond.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Who was it?&nbsp; He looked at you, Charles,&rdquo; said D&eacute;sir&eacute;e.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It is the Emperor,&rdquo; answered Darragon.&nbsp; His face
+was white.&nbsp; His eyes were dull, like the eyes of one who has seen
+a vision and is not yet back to earth.</p>
+<p>D&eacute;sir&eacute;e turned to those behind her.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It is the Emperor,&rdquo; she said, with an odd ring in her
+voice which none had ever heard before.&nbsp; Then she stood looking
+after the carriage.</p>
+<p>Her father, who was at her elbow&mdash;tall, white-haired, with an
+aquiline, inscrutable face&mdash;stood in a like attitude, looking down
+the Pfaffengasse.&nbsp; His hand was raised before his face with outspread
+fingers which seemed rigid in that gesture, as if lifted hastily to
+screen his face and hide it.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Did he see me?&rdquo; he asked in a low voice which only D&eacute;sir&eacute;e
+heard.</p>
+<p>She glanced at him, and her eyes, which were clear as a cloudless
+sky, were suddenly shadowed by a suspicion quick and poignant.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He seemed to see everything, but he only looked at Charles,&rdquo;
+she answered.&nbsp; For a moment they all stood in the sunshine looking
+towards the Langenmarkt where the tower of the Rathhaus rose above the
+high roofs.&nbsp; The dust raised by the horses&rsquo; feet and the
+carriage wheels slowly settled on their bridal clothes.</p>
+<p>It was D&eacute;sir&eacute;e who at length made a movement to continue
+their way towards her father&rsquo;s house.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well,&rdquo; she said with a slight laugh, &ldquo;he was not
+bidden to my wedding, but he has come all the same.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Others laughed as they followed her.&nbsp; For a bride at the church-door,
+or a judge on the bench, or a criminal on the scaffold-steps, need make
+but a very small joke to cause merriment.&nbsp; Laughter is often nothing
+but the froth of tears.</p>
+<p>There were faces suddenly bleached in the little group of wedding-guests,
+and none were whiter than the handsome features of Mathilde Sebastian,
+D&eacute;sir&eacute;e&rsquo;s elder sister, who looked angry, had frowned
+at the children, and seemed to find this simple wedding too bourgeois
+for her taste.&nbsp; She carried her head with an air that told the
+world not to expect that she should ever be content to marry in such
+a humble style, and walk from the church in satin slippers like any
+daughter of a burgher.</p>
+<p>This, at all events, was what old Koch the locksmith must have read
+in her beautiful, discontented face.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ah! ah!&rdquo; he muttered to the bolts as he shot them.&nbsp;
+&ldquo;But it is not the lightest hearts that quit the church in a carriage.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>So simple were the arrangements that bride and bridegroom and wedding-guests
+had to wait in the street while the servant unlocked the front door
+of No. 36 with a great key hurriedly extracted from her apron-pocket.</p>
+<p>There was no unusual stir in the street.&nbsp; The windows of one
+or two of the houses had been decorated with flowers.&nbsp; These were
+the houses of friends.&nbsp; Others were silent and still behind their
+lace curtains, where there doubtless lurked peeping and criticizing
+eyes&mdash;the house of a neighbour.</p>
+<p>The wedding-guests were few in number.&nbsp; Only one of them had
+a distinguished air, and he, like the bridegroom, wore the uniform of
+France.&nbsp; He was a small man, somewhat brusque in attitude, as became
+a soldier of Italy and Egypt.&nbsp; But he had a pleasant smile and
+that affability of manner which many learnt in the first years of the
+great Republic.&nbsp; He and Mathilde Sebastian never looked at each
+other: either an understanding or a misunderstanding.</p>
+<p>The host, Antoine Sebastian, played his part well enough when he
+remembered that he had a part to play.&nbsp; He listened with a kind
+attention to the story of a very old lady, who it seemed had been married
+herself, but it was so long ago that the human interest of it all was
+lost in a pottle of petty detail which was all she could recall.&nbsp;
+Before the story was half finished, Sebastian&rsquo;s attention had
+strayed elsewhere, though his spare figure remained in its attitude
+of attention and polite forbearance.&nbsp; His mind had, it would seem,
+a trick of thus wandering away and leaving his body rigid in the last
+attitude that it had dictated.</p>
+<p>Sebastian did not notice that the door was open and all the guests
+were waiting for him to lead the way.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Now, old dreamer,&rdquo; whispered D&eacute;sir&eacute;e,
+with a quick pinch on his arm, &ldquo;take the Gr&auml;fin upstairs
+to the drawing-room and give her wine.&nbsp; You are to drink our healths,
+remember.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Is there wine?&rdquo; he asked with a vague smile.&nbsp; &ldquo;Where
+has it come from?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Like other good things, my father-in-law,&rdquo; replied Charles
+with his easy laugh, &ldquo;it comes from France.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>They spoke together thus in confidence, in the language of that same
+sunny land.&nbsp; But when Sebastian turned again to the old lady, still
+recalling the details of that other wedding, he addressed her in German,
+offering his arm with a sudden stiffness of gesture which he seemed
+to put on with the change of tongue.</p>
+<p>They passed up the low time-worn steps arm-in-arm, and beneath the
+high carved doorway, whereon some pious Hanseatic merchant had inscribed
+his belief that if God be in the house there is no need of a watchman,
+emphasizing his creed by bolts and locks of enormous strength, and bars
+to every window.</p>
+<p>The servant in her Samland Sunday dress, having shaken her fist at
+the children, closed the door behind the last guest, and, so far as
+the Frauengasse was concerned, the exciting incident was over.&nbsp;
+From the open window came only the murmur of quiet voices, the clink
+of glasses at the drinking of a toast, or a laugh in the clear voice
+of the bride herself.&nbsp; For D&eacute;sir&eacute;e persisted in her
+optimistic view of these proceedings, though her husband scarcely helped
+her now at all, and seemed a different man since the passage through
+the Pfaffengasse of that dusty travelling carriage which had played
+the part of the stormy petrel from end to end of Europe.</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<h2>CHAPTER II.&nbsp; A CAMPAIGNER.</h2>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<i>Not what I am, but what I Do, is
+my Kingdom.</i></p>
+<p>D&eacute;sir&eacute;e had made all her own wedding-clothes.&nbsp;
+&ldquo;Her poor little marriage-basket,&rdquo; she called it.&nbsp;
+She had even made the cake which was now cut with some ceremony by her
+father.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I tremble,&rdquo; she exclaimed aloud, &ldquo;to think what
+it may be like in the middle.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>And Mathilde was the only person there who did not smile at the unconscious
+admission.&nbsp; The cake was still under discussion, and the Gr&auml;fin
+had just admitted that it was almost as good as that other cake which
+had been consumed in the days of Frederick the Great, when the servant
+called D&eacute;sir&eacute;e from the room.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It is a soldier,&rdquo; she said in a whisper at the head
+of the stairs.&nbsp; &ldquo;He has a paper in his hand.&nbsp; I know
+what that means.&nbsp; He is quartered on us.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>D&eacute;sir&eacute;e hurried downstairs.&nbsp; In the entrance-hall,
+a broad-built little man stood awaiting her.&nbsp; He was stout and
+red, with hair all ragged at the temples, almost white.&nbsp; His eyes
+were lost behind shaggy eyebrows.&nbsp; His face was made broader by
+little whiskers stopping short at the level of his ear.&nbsp; He had
+a snuff-blown complexion, and in the wrinkles of his face the dust of
+a dozen campaigns seemed to have accumulated.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Barlasch,&rdquo; he said curtly, holding out a long strip
+of blue paper.&nbsp; &ldquo;Of the Guard.&nbsp; Once a sergeant.&nbsp;
+Italy, Egypt, the Danube.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He frowned at D&eacute;sir&eacute;e while she read the paper in the
+dim light that filtered through the twisted bars of the fanlight above
+the door.</p>
+<p>Then he turned to the servant who stood, comely and breathless, looking
+him up and down.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Papa Barlasch,&rdquo; he added for her edification, and he
+drew down his left eyebrow with a jerk, so that it almost touched his
+cheek.&nbsp; His right eye, grey and piercing, returned her astonished
+gaze with a fierce steadfastness.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Does this mean that you are quartered upon us?&rdquo; asked
+D&eacute;sir&eacute;e without seeking to hide her disgust.&nbsp; She
+spoke in her own tongue.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;French?&rdquo; said the soldier, looking at her.&nbsp; &ldquo;Good.&nbsp;
+Yes.&nbsp; I am quartered here.&nbsp; Thirty-six, Frauengasse.&nbsp;
+Sebastian; musician.&nbsp; You are lucky to get me.&nbsp; I always give
+satisfaction&mdash;ha!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He gave a curt laugh in one syllable only.&nbsp; His left arm was
+curved round a bundle of wood bound together by a red pocket-handkerchief
+not innocent of snuff.&nbsp; He held out this bundle to D&eacute;sir&eacute;e,
+as Solomon may have held out some great gift to the Queen of Sheba to
+smooth the first doubtful steps of friendship.</p>
+<p>D&eacute;sir&eacute;e accepted the gift and stood in her wedding-dress
+holding the bundle of wood against her breast.&nbsp; Then a gleam of
+the one grey eye that was visible conveyed to her the fact that this
+walnut-faced warrior was smiling.&nbsp; She laughed gaily.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It is well,&rdquo; said Barlasch.&nbsp; &ldquo;We are friends.&nbsp;
+You are lucky to get me.&nbsp; You may not think so now.&nbsp; Would
+this woman like me to speak to her in Polish or German?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Do you speak so many languages?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He shrugged his shoulders and spread out his arms as far as his many
+burdens allowed.&nbsp; For he was hung round with a hundred parcels
+and packages.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The Old Guard,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;can always make itself
+understood.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He rubbed his hands together with the air of a brisk man ready for
+any sort of work.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Now, where shall I sleep?&rdquo; he asked.&nbsp; &ldquo;One
+is not particular, you understand.&nbsp; A few minutes and one is at
+home&mdash;perhaps peeling the potatoes.&nbsp; It is only a civilian
+who is ashamed of using his knife on a potato.&nbsp; Papa Barlasch,
+they call me.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Without awaiting an invitation he went forward towards the kitchen.&nbsp;
+He seemed to know the house by instinct.&nbsp; His progress was accompanied
+by a clatter of utensils like that which heralds the coming of a carrier&rsquo;s
+cart.</p>
+<p>At the kitchen door he stopped and sniffed loudly.&nbsp; There certainly
+was a slight odour of burning fat.&nbsp; Papa Barlasch turned and shook
+an admonitory finger at the servant, but he said nothing.&nbsp; He looked
+round at the highly polished utensils, at the table and floor both alike
+scrubbed clean by a vigorous northern arm.&nbsp; And he was kind enough
+to nod approval.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;On a campaign,&rdquo; he said to no one in particular, &ldquo;a
+little bit of horse thrust into the cinders on the end of a bayonet&mdash;but
+in times of peace . . .&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He broke off and made a gesture towards the saucepans which indicated
+quite clearly that he was between campaigns&mdash;inclined to good living.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I am a rude fork,&rdquo; he jerked to D&eacute;sir&eacute;e
+over his shoulder in the dialect of the C&ocirc;tes du Nord.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;How long will you be here?&rdquo; asked D&eacute;sir&eacute;e,
+who was eminently practical.&nbsp; A billet was a misfortune which Charles
+Darragon had hitherto succeeded in warding off.&nbsp; He had some small
+influence as an officer of the head-quarters&rsquo; staff.</p>
+<p>Barlasch held up a reproving hand.&nbsp; The question, he seemed
+to think, was not quite delicate.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I pay my own,&rdquo; he said.&nbsp; &ldquo;Give and take&mdash;that
+is my motto.&nbsp; When you have nothing to give . . . offer a smile.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>With a gesture he indicated the bundle of firewood which D&eacute;sir&eacute;e
+still absent-mindedly carried against her white dress.&nbsp; He turned
+and opened a cupboard low down on the floor at the left-hand side of
+the fireplace.&nbsp; He seemed to know by an instinct usually possessed
+by charwomen and other domesticated persons of experience where the
+firewood was kept.&nbsp; Lisa gave a little exclamation of surprise
+at his impertinence and his perspicacity.&nbsp; He took the firewood,
+unknotted his handkerchief, and threw his offering into the cupboard.&nbsp;
+Then he turned and perceived for the first time that D&eacute;sir&eacute;e
+had a bright ribbon at her waist and on her shoulders; that a thin chain
+of gold was round her throat and that there were flowers at her breast.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;A f&ecirc;te?&rdquo; he inquired curtly.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;My marriage f&ecirc;te,&rdquo; she answered.&nbsp; &ldquo;I
+was married half an hour ago.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He looked at her beneath his grizzled brows.&nbsp; His face was only
+capable of producing one expression&mdash;a shaggy weather-beaten fierceness.&nbsp;
+But, like a dog which can express more than many human beings, by a
+hundred instinctive gestures he could, it seemed, dispense with words
+on occasion and get on quite as well without them.&nbsp; He clearly
+disapproved of D&eacute;sir&eacute;e&rsquo;s marriage, and drew her
+attention to the fact that she was no more than a schoolgirl with an
+inconsequent brain, and little limbs too slight to fight a successful
+battle in a world full of cruelty and danger.</p>
+<p>Then he made a gesture half of apology as if recognizing that it
+was no business of his, and turned away thoughtfully.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I had troubles of that sort myself,&rdquo; he explained, putting
+together the embers on the hearth with the point of a twisted, rusty
+bayonet, &ldquo;but that was long ago.&nbsp; Well, I can drink your
+health all the same, mademoiselle.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He turned to Lisa with a friendly nod and put out his tongue, in
+the manner of the people, to indicate that his lips were dry.</p>
+<p>D&eacute;sir&eacute;e had always been the housekeeper.&nbsp; It was
+to her that Lisa naturally turned in her extremity at the invasion of
+her kitchen by Papa Barlasch.&nbsp; And when that warrior had been supplied
+with beer it was with D&eacute;sir&eacute;e, in an agitated whisper
+in the great dark dining-room with its gloomy old pictures and heavy
+carving, that she took counsel as to where he should be quartered.</p>
+<p>The object of their solicitude himself interrupted their hurried
+consultation by opening the door and putting his shaggy head round the
+corner of it.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It is not worth while to consult long about it,&rdquo; he
+said.&nbsp; &ldquo;There is a little room behind the kitchen, that opens
+into the yard.&nbsp; It is full of boxes.&nbsp; But we can move them&mdash;a
+little straw&mdash;and there!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>With a gesture he described a condition of domestic peace and comfort
+which far exceeded his humble requirements.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The blackbeetles and I are old friends,&rdquo; he concluded
+cheerfully.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;There are no blackbeetles in the house, monsieur,&rdquo; said
+D&eacute;sir&eacute;e, hesitating to accept his proposal.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Then I shall resign myself to my solitude,&rdquo; he answered.&nbsp;
+&ldquo;It is quiet.&nbsp; I shall not hear the patron touching on his
+violin.&nbsp; It is that which occupies his leisure, is it not?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; answered D&eacute;sir&eacute;e, still considering
+the question.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I too am a musician,&rdquo; said Papa Barlasch, turning towards
+the kitchen again.&nbsp; &ldquo;I played a drum at Marengo.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>And as he led the way to the little room in the yard at the back
+of the kitchen, he expressed by a shake of the head a fellow-feeling
+for the gentleman upstairs, whose acquaintance he had not yet made,
+who occupied his leisure by touching the violin.</p>
+<p>They stood together in the small apartment which Barlasch, with the
+promptitude of an experienced conqueror, had set apart for his own accommodation.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Those trunks,&rdquo; he observed casually, &ldquo;were made
+in France&rdquo;&mdash;a mental note which he happened to make aloud,
+as some do for better remembrance.&nbsp; &ldquo;This solid girl and
+I will soon move them.&nbsp; And you, mademoiselle, go back to your
+wedding.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The good God be merciful to you,&rdquo; he added under his
+breath when D&eacute;sir&eacute;e had gone.</p>
+<p>She laughed as she mounted the stairs, a slim white figure amid the
+heavy woodwork long since blackened by time.&nbsp; The stairs made no
+sound beneath her light step.&nbsp; How many weary feet had climbed
+them since they were built!&nbsp; For the Dantzigers have been a people
+of sorrow, torn by wars, starved by siege, tossed from one conqueror
+to another from the beginning until now.</p>
+<p>D&eacute;sir&eacute;e excused herself for her absence and frankly
+gave the cause.&nbsp; She was disposed to make light of the incident.&nbsp;
+It was natural to her to be optimistic.&nbsp; Both she and Mathilde
+made a practice of withholding from their father&rsquo;s knowledge the
+smaller worries of daily life which sour so many women and make them
+whine on platforms to be given the larger woes.</p>
+<p>She was glad to note that her father did not attach much importance
+to the arrival of Papa Barlasch; though Mathilde found opportunity to
+convey her displeasure at the news by a movement of the eyebrows.</p>
+<p>Antoine Sebastian had applied himself seriously now to his <i>r&ocirc;le</i>
+of host, so rarely played in the Frauengasse.&nbsp; He was courteous
+and quick to see a want or a possible desire of any one of his guests.&nbsp;
+It was part of his sense of hospitality to dismiss all personal matters,
+and especially a personal trouble, from public attention.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;They will attend to him in the kitchen, no doubt,&rdquo; he
+said with that grand air which the dancing academy tried to imitate.</p>
+<p>Charles hardly noted what D&eacute;sir&eacute;e said.&nbsp; So sunny
+a nature as his might have been expected to make light of a minor trouble,
+more especially the minor trouble of another.&nbsp; He was unusually
+thoughtful.&nbsp; Some event of the morning had, it would appear, given
+him pause on his primrose path.&nbsp; He glanced more than once over
+his shoulder towards the window, which stood open.&nbsp; He seemed at
+times to listen.</p>
+<p>Suddenly he rose and went to the window.&nbsp; His action caused
+a brief silence, and all heard the clatter of a horse&rsquo;s feet and
+the quick rattle of a sword against spur and buckle.</p>
+<p>After a glance he came back into the room.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Excuse me,&rdquo; he said, with a bow towards Mathilde.&nbsp;
+&ldquo;It is, I think, a messenger for me.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>And he hurried downstairs.&nbsp; He did not return at once, and soon
+the conversation became general again.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You,&rdquo; said the Gr&auml;fin, touching D&eacute;sir&eacute;e&rsquo;s
+arm with her fan, &ldquo;you, who are now his wife, must be dying to
+know what has called him away.&nbsp; Do not consider the &lsquo;convenances,&rsquo;
+my child.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>D&eacute;sir&eacute;e, thus admonished, followed Charles.&nbsp; She
+had not been aware of this consuming curiosity until it was suggested
+to her.</p>
+<p>She found Charles standing at the open door.&nbsp; He thrust a letter
+into his pocket as she approached him, and turned towards her the face
+that she had seen for a moment when he drew her back at the corner of
+the Pfaffengasse to allow the Emperor&rsquo;s carriage to pass on its
+way.&nbsp; It was the white, half-stupefied face of one who has for
+an instant seen a vision of things not earthly.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I have been sent for by the . . .&nbsp; I am wanted at head-quarters,&rdquo;
+he said vaguely.&nbsp; &ldquo;I shall not be long . . .&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He took his shako, looked at her with an odd attempt to simulate
+cheerfulness, kissed her fingers and hurried out into the street.</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<h2>CHAPTER III.&nbsp; FATE.</h2>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<i>We pass; the path that each man
+trod<br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Is dim; or will be dim, with
+weeds.</i></p>
+<p>When D&eacute;sir&eacute;e turned towards the stairs, she met the
+guests descending.&nbsp; They were taking their leave as they came down,
+hurriedly, like persons conscious of having outstayed their welcome.</p>
+<p>Mathilde listened coldly to the conventional excuses.&nbsp; So few
+people recognize the simple fact that they need never apologize for
+going away.&nbsp; Sebastian stood at the head of the stairs bowing in
+his most Germanic manner.&nbsp; The urbane host, with a charm entirely
+French, who had dispensed a simple hospitality so easily and gracefully
+a few minutes earlier, seemed to have disappeared behind a pale and
+formal mask.</p>
+<p>D&eacute;sir&eacute;e was glad to see them go.&nbsp; There was a
+sense of uneasiness, a vague unrest in the air.&nbsp; There was something
+amiss.&nbsp; The wedding party had been a failure.&nbsp; All had gone
+well and merrily up to a certain point&mdash;at the corner of the Pfaffengasse,
+when the dusty travelling carriage passed across their path.&nbsp; From
+that moment there had been a change.&nbsp; A shadow seemed to have fallen
+across the sunny nature of the proceedings; for never had bride and
+bridegroom set forth together with lighter hearts than those carried
+by Charles and D&eacute;sir&eacute;e Darragon down the steps of the
+Marienkirche.</p>
+<p>During its progress across the whole width of Germany, the carriage
+had left unrest behind it.&nbsp; Men had travelled night and day to
+stand sleepless by the roadside and see it pass.&nbsp; Whole cities
+had been kept astir till morning by the mere rumour that its flying
+wheels would be heard in the streets before dawn.&nbsp; Hatred and adoration,
+fear and that dread tightening of the heart-strings which is caused
+by the shadow of the superhuman, had sprung into being at the mere sound
+of its approach.</p>
+<p>When therefore it passed across the Frauengasse, throwing its dust
+upon D&eacute;sir&eacute;e&rsquo;s wedding-dress, it was only fulfilling
+a mission.&nbsp; When it broke in upon the lives of these few persons
+seeking dimly for their happiness&mdash;as the heathen grope for an
+unknown God&mdash;and threw down carefully constructed plans, swept
+aside the strongest will and crushed the stoutest heart, it was only
+working out its destiny.&nbsp; The dust sprinkled on D&eacute;sir&eacute;e&rsquo;s
+hair had fallen on the faces of thousands of dead.&nbsp; The unrest
+that entered into the quiet little house on the left-hand side of the
+Frauengasse had made its way across a thousand thresholds, of Arab tent
+and imperial palace alike.&nbsp; The lives of millions were affected
+by it, the secret hopes of thousands were undermined by it.&nbsp; It
+disturbed the sleep of half the world, and made men old before their
+time.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;More troops must have arrived,&rdquo; said D&eacute;sir&eacute;e,
+already busying herself to set the house in order, &ldquo;since they
+have been forced to billet this man with us.&nbsp; And now they have
+sent for Charles, though he is really on leave of absence.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She glanced at the clock.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I hope he will not be late.&nbsp; The chaise is to come at
+four o&rsquo;clock.&nbsp; There is still time for me to help you.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Mathilde made no answer.&nbsp; Their father stood near the window.&nbsp;
+He was looking out with thoughtful eyes.&nbsp; His face was drawn downwards
+by a hundred fine wrinkles.&nbsp; It was the face of one brooding over
+a sorrow or a vengeance.&nbsp; There was something in his whole being
+suggestive of a bygone prosperity.&nbsp; This was a lean man who had
+once been well-seeming.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No!&rdquo; said D&eacute;sir&eacute;e gaily, &ldquo;we were
+a dull company.&nbsp; We need not disguise it.&nbsp; It all came from
+that man crossing our path in his dusty carriage.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He is on his way to Russia,&rdquo; Sebastian said jerkily.&nbsp;
+&ldquo;God spare me to see him return!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>D&eacute;sir&eacute;e and Mathilde exchanged a glance of uneasiness.&nbsp;
+It seemed that their father was subject to certain humours which they
+had reason to dread.&nbsp; D&eacute;sir&eacute;e left her occupation
+and went to him, linking her arm in his and standing beside him.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Do not let us think of disagreeable things to-day,&rdquo;
+she said.&nbsp; &ldquo;God will spare you much longer than that, you
+depressing old wedding-guest!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He patted her hand which rested on his arm and looked down at her
+with eyes softened by affection.&nbsp; But her fair hair, rather tumbled,
+which met his glance must have awakened some memory that made his face
+a marble mask again.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; he said grimly, &ldquo;but I am an old man and
+he is a young one.&nbsp; And I want to see him dead before I die.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I will not have you think such bloodthirsty thoughts on my
+wedding-day,&rdquo; said D&eacute;sir&eacute;e.&nbsp; &ldquo;See, there
+is Charles returning already, and he has not been absent ten minutes.&nbsp;
+He has some one with him&mdash;who is it?&nbsp; Papa . . . Mathilde,
+look!&nbsp; Who is it coming back with Charles in such a hurry?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Mathilde, who was setting the room in order, glanced through the
+lace curtains.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I do not know,&rdquo; she answered indifferently.&nbsp; &ldquo;Just
+an ordinary man.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>D&eacute;sir&eacute;e had turned away from the window as if to go
+downstairs and meet her husband.&nbsp; She paused and looked back again
+over her shoulder towards the street.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Is it?&rdquo; she said rather oddly.&nbsp; &ldquo;I do not
+know&mdash;I&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>And she stood with the incompleted sentence on her lips waiting irresolutely
+for Charles to come upstairs.</p>
+<p>In a moment he burst into the room with all his usual exuberance
+and high spirit.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Picture to yourselves!&rdquo; he cried, standing in the doorway
+with his arms extended before him.&nbsp; &ldquo;I was hurrying to head-quarters
+when I ran into the embrace of my dear Louis&mdash;my cousin.&nbsp;
+I have told you a hundred times that he is brother and father and everything
+to me.&nbsp; I am so glad that he should come to-day of all days.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He turned towards the stairs with a gesture of welcome, still with
+his two arms outheld, as if inviting the man, who came rather slowly
+upstairs, to come to his embrace and to the embrace of those who were
+now his relations.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;There was a little suspicion of sadness&mdash;I do not know
+what it was&mdash;at the table; but now it is all gone.&nbsp; All is
+well now that this unexpected guest has come.&nbsp; This dear Louis.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He went to the landing as he spoke, and returned bringing by the
+arm a man taller than himself and darker, with a still brown face and
+steady eyes set close together.&nbsp; He had a lean look of good breeding.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;This dear Louis!&rdquo; repeated Charles.&nbsp; &ldquo;My
+only relative in all the world.&nbsp; My cousin, Louis d&rsquo;Arragon.&nbsp;
+But he, <i>par exemple</i>, spells his name in two words.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The man bowed gravely&mdash;a comprehensive bow; but he looked at
+D&eacute;sir&eacute;e.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;This is my father-in-law,&rdquo; continued Charles breathlessly.&nbsp;
+&ldquo;Monsieur Antoine Sebastian, and D&eacute;sir&eacute;e and Mathilde&mdash;my
+wife, my dear Louis&mdash;your cousin, D&eacute;sir&eacute;e.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He had turned again to Louis and shook him by the shoulders in the
+fulness of his joy.&nbsp; He had not distinguished between Mathilde
+and D&eacute;sir&eacute;e, and it was towards Mathilde that D&rsquo;Arragon
+looked with a polite and rather formal repetition of his bow.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It is I . . .&nbsp; I am D&eacute;sir&eacute;e,&rdquo; said
+the younger sister, coming forward with a slow gesture of shyness.</p>
+<p>D&rsquo;Arragon took her hand.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I have been happy,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;in the moment of
+my arrival.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Then he turned to Mathilde and bowed over the hand she held out to
+him.&nbsp; Sebastian had come forward with a sudden return of his gracious
+and rather old-world manner.&nbsp; He did not offer to shake hands,
+but bowed.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;A son of Louis d&rsquo;Arragon who was fortunate enough to
+escape to England?&rdquo; he inquired with a courteous gesture.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The only son,&rdquo; replied the new-comer.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I am honoured to make the acquaintance of Monsieur le Marquis,&rdquo;
+said Antoine Sebastian slowly.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, you must not call me that,&rdquo; replied D&rsquo;Arragon
+with a short laugh.&nbsp; &ldquo;I am an English sailor&mdash;that is
+all.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And now, my dear Louis, I leave you,&rdquo; broke in Charles,
+who had rather impatiently awaited the end of these formalities.&nbsp;
+&ldquo;A brief half-hour and I am with you again.&nbsp; You will stay
+here till I return.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He turned, nodded gaily to D&eacute;sir&eacute;e and ran downstairs.</p>
+<p>Through the open windows they heard his quick, light footfall as
+he hurried up the Frauengasse.&nbsp; Something made them silent, listening
+to it.</p>
+<p>It was not difficult to see that D&rsquo;Arragon was a sailor.&nbsp;
+Not only had he the brown face of those who live in the open, but he
+had the attentive air of one whose waking moments are a watch.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You look at one as if one were the horizon,&rdquo; D&eacute;sir&eacute;e
+said to him long afterwards.&nbsp; But it was at this moment in the
+drawing-room in the Frauengasse that the comparison formed itself in
+her mind.</p>
+<p>His face was rather narrow, with a square chin and straight lips.&nbsp;
+He was not quick in speech like Charles, but seemed to think before
+he spoke, with the result that he often appeared to be about to say
+something, and was interrupted before the words had been uttered.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Unless my memory is a bad one, your mother was an Englishwoman,
+monsieur,&rdquo; said Sebastian, &ldquo;which would account for your
+being in the English service.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Not entirely,&rdquo; answered d&rsquo;Arragon, &ldquo;though
+my mother was indeed English and died&mdash;in a French prison.&nbsp;
+But it was from a sense of gratitude that my father placed me in the
+English service&mdash;and I have never regretted it, monsieur.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Your father received kindnesses at English hands, after his
+escape, like many others.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, and he was too old to repay them by doing the country
+any service himself.&nbsp; He would have done it if he could&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>D&rsquo;Arragon paused, looking steadily at the tall old man who
+listened to him with averted eyes.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;My father was one of those,&rdquo; he said at length, &ldquo;who
+did not think that in fighting for Bonaparte one was necessarily fighting
+for France.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Sebastian held up a warning hand.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;In England&mdash;&rdquo; he corrected, &ldquo;in England one
+may think such things.&nbsp; But not in France, and still less in Dantzig.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;If one is an Englishman,&rdquo; replied D&rsquo;Arragon with
+a smile, &ldquo;one may think them where one likes, and say them when
+one is disposed.&nbsp; It is one of the privileges of the nation, monsieur.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He made the statement lightly, seeing the humour of it with a cosmopolitan
+understanding, without any suggestion of the boastfulness of youth.&nbsp;
+D&eacute;sir&eacute;e noticed that his hair was turning grey at the
+temples.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I did not know,&rdquo; he said, turning to her, &ldquo;that
+Charles was in Dantzig, much less that he was celebrating so happy an
+occasion.&nbsp; We ran against each other by accident in the street.&nbsp;
+It was a lucky accident that allowed me to make your acquaintance so
+soon after you have become his wife.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It scarcely seems possible that it should be an accident,&rdquo;
+said D&eacute;sir&eacute;e.&nbsp; &ldquo;It must have been the work
+of fate&mdash;if fate has time to think of such an insignificant person
+as myself and so small an event as my marriage in these days.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Fate,&rdquo; put in Mathilde in her composed voice and manner,
+&ldquo;has come to Dantzig to-day.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ah!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes.&nbsp; You are the second unexpected arrival this afternoon.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>D&rsquo;Arragon turned and looked at Mathilde.&nbsp; His manner,
+always grave and attentive, was that of a reader who has found an interesting
+book on a dusty shelf.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Has the Emperor come?&rdquo; he asked.</p>
+<p>Mathilde nodded.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I thought I saw something in Charles&rsquo;s face,&rdquo;
+he said reflectively, looking back through the open door towards the
+stairs where Charles had nodded farewell to them.&nbsp; &ldquo;So the
+Emperor is here, in Dantzig?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He turned towards Sebastian, who stood with a stony face.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Which means war,&rdquo; he said.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It always means war,&rdquo; replied Sebastian in a tired voice.&nbsp;
+&ldquo;Is he again going to prove himself stronger than any?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Some day he will make a mistake,&rdquo; said D&rsquo;Arragon
+cheerfully.&nbsp; &ldquo;And then will come the day of reckoning.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ah!&rdquo; said Sebastian, with a shake of the head that seemed
+to indicate an account so one-sided that none could ever liquidate it.&nbsp;
+&ldquo;You are young, monsieur.&nbsp; You are full of hope.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I am not young&mdash;I am thirty-one&mdash;but I am, as you
+say, full of hope.&nbsp; I look to that day, Monsieur Sebastian.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And in the mean time?&rdquo; suggested the man who seemed
+but a shadow of someone standing apart and far away from the affairs
+of daily life</p>
+<p>&ldquo;In the mean time one must play one&rsquo;s part,&rdquo; returned
+D&rsquo;Arragon, with his almost inaudible laugh, &ldquo;whatever it
+may be.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>There was no foreboding in his voice; no second meaning in the words.&nbsp;
+He was open and simple and practical, like the life he led.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Then you have a part to play, too,&rdquo; said D&eacute;sir&eacute;e,
+thinking of Charles, who had been called away at such an inopportune
+moment, and had gone without complaint.&nbsp; &ldquo;It is the penalty
+we pay for living in one of the less dull periods of history.&nbsp;
+He touches your life too.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He touches every one&rsquo;s life, mademoiselle.&nbsp; That
+is what makes him so great a man.&nbsp; Yes.&nbsp; I have a little part
+to play.&nbsp; I am like one of the unseen supernumeraries who has to
+see that a door is open to allow the great actors to make an effective
+<i>entr&eacute;e</i>.&nbsp; I am lent to Russia for the war that is
+coming.&nbsp; It is a little part.&nbsp; I have to keep open one small
+portion of the line of communication between England and St. Petersburg,
+so that news may pass to and fro.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He glanced towards Mathilde as he spoke.&nbsp; She was listening
+with an odd eagerness which he noted, as he noted everything, methodically
+and surely.&nbsp; He remembered it afterwards.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That will not be easy, with Denmark friendly to France,&rdquo;
+said Sebastian, &ldquo;and every Prussian port closed to you.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But Sweden will help.&nbsp; She is not friendly to France.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Sebastian laughed, and made a gesture with his white and elegant
+hand, of contempt and ridicule.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And, <i>bon Dieu</i>! what a friendship it is,&rdquo; he exclaimed,
+&ldquo;that is based on the fear of being taken for an enemy.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It is a friendship that waits its time, monsieur,&rdquo; said
+D&rsquo;Arragon taking up his hat.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Then you have a ship, monsieur, here in the Baltic?&rdquo;
+asked Mathilde with more haste than was characteristic of her usual
+utterance.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;A very small one, mademoiselle,&rdquo; he answered.&nbsp;
+&ldquo;So small that I could turn her round here in the Frauengasse.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But she is fast?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The fastest in the Baltic, mademoiselle,&rdquo; he answered.&nbsp;
+&ldquo;And that is why I must take my leave&mdash;with the news you
+have told me.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He shook hands as he spoke, and bowed to Sebastian, whose generation
+was content with the more formal salutation.&nbsp; D&eacute;sir&eacute;e
+went to the door, and led the way downstairs.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;We have but one servant,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;who is busy.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>On the doorstep he paused for a moment.&nbsp; And D&eacute;sir&eacute;e
+seemed to expect him to do so.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Charles and I have always been like brothers&mdash;you will
+remember that always, will you not?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; she answered with her gay nod.&nbsp; &ldquo;I
+will remember.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Then good-bye, mademoiselle.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Madame,&rdquo; she corrected lightly.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Madame, my cousin,&rdquo; he said, and departed smiling.</p>
+<p>D&eacute;sir&eacute;e went slowly upstairs again.</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<h2>CHAPTER IV.&nbsp; THE CLOUDED MOON.</h2>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;<i>Quand on se m&eacute;fie on se trompe, quand on ne
+se m&eacute;fie pas, on est tromp&eacute;.</i></p>
+<p>Charles Darragon had come to Dantzig a year earlier.&nbsp; He was
+a lieutenant in an infantry regiment, and he was twenty-five.&nbsp;
+Many of his contemporaries were colonels in these days of quick promotion,
+when men lived at such a rate that few of them lived long.&nbsp; But
+Charles was too easy-going to envy any man.</p>
+<p>When he arrived he knew no one in Dantzig, had few friends in the
+army of occupation.&nbsp; In six months he possessed acquaintances in
+every street, and was on terms of easy familiarity with all his fellow-officers.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;If the army of occupation had more officers like young Darragon,&rdquo;
+a town councillor had grimly said to Rapp, &ldquo;the Dantzigers would
+soon be resigned to your presence.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>It seemed that Charles had the gift of popularity.&nbsp; He was open
+and hearty, hail-fellow-well-met with the new-comers, who were numerous
+enough at this time, quick to understand the quiet men, ready to make
+merry with the gay.&nbsp; Regarding himself, he was quite open and frank.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I am a poor devil of a lieutenant,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;that
+is all.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Reserve is fatal to popularity, yet friendship cannot exist without
+it.&nbsp; Charles had, it seemed, nothing to hide, and was indifferent
+to the secrets of others.&nbsp; It is such people who receive many confidences.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But it must go no farther . . .&rdquo; a hundred men had said
+to him.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;My friend, by to-morrow I shall have forgotten all about it,&rdquo;
+he invariably replied, which men remembered afterwards and were glad.</p>
+<p>A certain sort of friendship seemed to exist between Charles Darragon
+and Colonel de Casimir&mdash;not without patronage on one side and a
+slightly constraining sense of obligation on the other.&nbsp; It was
+de Casimir who had introduced Charles to Mathilde Sebastian at a formal
+reception at General Rapp&rsquo;s.&nbsp; Charles, of course, fell in
+love with Mathilde, and out again after half-an-hour&rsquo;s conversation.&nbsp;
+There was something cold and calculating about Mathilde which held him
+at arm&rsquo;s length with as much efficacy as the strictest duenna.&nbsp;
+Indeed, there are some maidens who require no better chaperon for their
+hearts than their own heads.</p>
+<p>A few days after this introduction Charles met Mathilde and D&eacute;sir&eacute;e
+in the Langgasse, and he fell in love with D&eacute;sir&eacute;e.&nbsp;
+He went about for a whole week seeking opportunity to tell her without
+delay what had happened to him.&nbsp; The opportunity presented itself
+before long; for one morning he saw her walking quickly towards the
+Kuh-br&uuml;cke with her skates swinging from her wrist.&nbsp; It was
+a sunny, still, winter morning, such as temperate countries never know.&nbsp;
+D&eacute;sir&eacute;e&rsquo;s eyes were bright with youth and happiness.&nbsp;
+The cold air had slightly emphasized the rosy colour of her cheeks.</p>
+<p>Charles caught his breath at the sight of her, though she did not
+happen to perceive him.&nbsp; He called a sleigh and drove to the barracks
+for his own skates.&nbsp; Then to the Kuh-br&uuml;cke, where a reach
+of the Mottlau was cleared and kept in order for skating.&nbsp; He overpaid
+the sleigh-driver and laughed aloud at the man&rsquo;s boorish surprise.&nbsp;
+There was no one so happy as Charles Darragon in all the world.&nbsp;
+He was going to tell D&eacute;sir&eacute;e that he loved her.</p>
+<p>At first D&eacute;sir&eacute;e was surprised, as was only natural.&nbsp;
+For she had not thought again of the pleasant young officer introduced
+to her by Mathilde.&nbsp; They had not even commented on him after he
+had made his gay bow and gone.</p>
+<p>She had of course thought of these things in the abstract when her
+busy mind had nothing more material and immediate to consider.&nbsp;
+She had probably arranged how some abstract person should some day tell
+her of his love and how she should make reply.&nbsp; But she had never
+imagined the incident as it actually happened.&nbsp; She had never pictured
+a youth in a gay uniform looking down at her with ardent eyes as he
+skated by her side through the crisp still air, while the ice sang a
+high clear song beneath their feet in accompaniment to his hurried laughing
+words of protestation.&nbsp; He seemed to touch life lightly and to
+anticipate nothing but happiness.&nbsp; In truth, it was difficult to
+be tragic on such a morning.</p>
+<p>These were the heedless days of the beginning of the century, when
+men not only threw away their lives, but played ducks-and-drakes with
+their chances of happiness in a manner quite incomprehensible to the
+careful method of human thought to-day.&nbsp; Charles Darragon lived
+only in the present moment.&nbsp; He was in love with her.&nbsp; D&eacute;sir&eacute;e
+must marry him.</p>
+<p>It was quite different from what she had anticipated.&nbsp; She had
+looked forward to such a moment with a secret misgiving.&nbsp; The abstract
+person of her thoughts had always inspired her with a painful shyness
+and an indefinite, breathless fear.&nbsp; But the lover who was here
+now in the flesh by her side inspired none of these feelings.&nbsp;
+On the contrary, she felt easy and natural and quite at home with him.&nbsp;
+There was nothing alarming about his flushed face and laughing eyes.&nbsp;
+She was not at all afraid of him.&nbsp; She even felt in some vague
+way older than he, though he had just told her that he was twenty-five,
+and four years her senior.</p>
+<p>She accepted the violets which he had hurriedly bought for her as
+he came through the Langenmarkt, but she would not say that she loved
+him, because she did not.&nbsp; She was in most ways quite a matter-of-fact
+person, and she was of an honest mind.&nbsp; She said she would think
+about it.&nbsp; She did not love him now&mdash;she knew that.&nbsp;
+She could not say that she would not learn to love him some day, but
+there seemed no likelihood of it at present.&nbsp; Then he would shoot
+himself!&nbsp; He would certainly shoot himself unless she learnt to
+love him!&nbsp; And she asked &ldquo;When?&rdquo; and they both laughed.&nbsp;
+They changed the subject, but after a time they came back to it; which
+is the worst of love&mdash;one always comes back to it.</p>
+<p>Then suddenly he began to assume an air of proprietorship, and burst
+into a hundred explanations of what fears he felt for her; for her happiness
+and welfare.&nbsp; Her father was absent-minded and heedless.&nbsp;
+He was not a fit guardian for her.&nbsp; Was she not the prettiest girl
+in all Dantzig&mdash;in all the world?&nbsp; Her sister was not fond
+enough of her to care for her properly.&nbsp; He announced his intention
+of seeing her father the next day.&nbsp; Everything should be done in
+order.&nbsp; Not a word must be hinted by the most watchful neighbour
+against the perfect propriety of their betrothal.</p>
+<p>D&eacute;sir&eacute;e laughed and said that he was progressing rather
+rapidly.&nbsp; She had only her instinct to guide her through these
+troubled waters; which was much better than experience.&nbsp; Experience
+in a woman is tantamount to a previous conviction against a prisoner.</p>
+<p>Charles was grave, however; a rare tribute.&nbsp; He was in love
+for the first time, which often makes men quite honest for a brief period&mdash;even
+unselfish.&nbsp; Of course, some men are honest and unselfish all their
+lives; which perhaps means that they remain in love&mdash;for the first
+time&mdash;all their lives.&nbsp; They are rare, of course.&nbsp; But
+the sort of woman with whom it is possible to remain in love all through
+a lifetime is rarer.</p>
+<p>So Charles waylaid Antoine Sebastian the next day as he went out
+of the Frauenthor for his walk in the morning sun by the side of the
+frozen Mottlau.&nbsp; He was better received than he had any reason
+to expect.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I am only a lieutenant,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;but in these
+days, monsieur, you know&mdash;there are possibilities.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He laughed gaily as he waved his gloves in the direction of Russia,
+across the river.&nbsp; But Sebastian&rsquo;s face clouded, and Charles,
+who was quick and sympathetic, abandoned that point in his argument
+almost before the words were out of his lips.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I have a little money,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;in addition
+to my pay.&nbsp; I assure you, monsieur, I am not of mean birth.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You are an orphan?&rdquo; said Sebastian curtly.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Of the . . . Terror?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes; I&mdash;well, one does not make much of one&rsquo;s parentage
+in these rough times&mdash;monsieur.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Your father&rsquo;s name was Charles&mdash;like your own?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The second son?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, monsieur.&nbsp; Did you know him?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;One remembers a name here and there,&rdquo; answered Sebastian,
+in his stiff manner, looking straight in front of him.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;There was a tone in your voice&mdash;,&rdquo; began Charles,
+and, again perceiving that he was on a false scent, broke off abruptly.&nbsp;
+&ldquo;If love can make mademoiselle happy&mdash;,&rdquo; he said; and
+a gesture of his right hand seemed to indicate that his passion was
+beyond the measure of words.</p>
+<p>So Charles Darragon was permitted to pay his addresses to D&eacute;sir&eacute;e
+in the somewhat formal manner of a day which, upon careful consideration,
+will be found to have been no more foolish than the present.&nbsp; He
+made no inquiries respecting D&eacute;sir&eacute;e&rsquo;s parentage.&nbsp;
+It was D&eacute;sir&eacute;e he wanted, and that was all.&nbsp; They
+understood the arts of love and war in the great days of the Empire.</p>
+<p>The rest was easy enough, and the gods were kind.&nbsp; Charles had
+even succeeded in getting a month&rsquo;s leave of absence.&nbsp; They
+were to spend their honeymoon at Zoppot, a little fishing-village hidden
+in the pines by the Baltic shore, only eight miles from Dantzig, where
+the Vistula loses itself at last in the salt water.</p>
+<p>All these arrangements had been made, as D&eacute;sir&eacute;e had
+prepared her trousseau, with a zest and gaiety which all were invited
+to enjoy.&nbsp; It is said that love is an egoist.&nbsp; Charles and
+D&eacute;sir&eacute;e had no desire to keep their happiness to themselves,
+but wore it, as it were, upon their sleeves.</p>
+<p>The attitude of the Frauengasse towards D&eacute;sir&eacute;e&rsquo;s
+wedding was only characteristic of the period.&nbsp; Every house in
+Dantzig looked askance upon its neighbour at this time.&nbsp; Each roof
+covered a number of contending interests.</p>
+<p>Some were for the French, and some for the conqueror&rsquo;s unwilling
+ally, William of Prussia.&nbsp; The names above the shops were German
+and Polish.&nbsp; There are to-day Scotch names also, here as elsewhere
+on the Baltic shores.&nbsp; When the serfs were liberated it was necessary
+to find surnames for these free men&mdash;these Pauls-the-son-of-Paul;
+and the nobles of Esthonia and Lithuania were reading Sir Walter Scott
+at the time.</p>
+<p>The burghers of Dantzig (&ldquo;They must be made to pay, these rich
+Dantzigers,&rdquo; wrote Napoleon to Rapp) trembled for their wealth,
+and stood aghast by their empty counting-houses; for their gods had
+been cast down; commerce was at a standstill.&nbsp; There were many,
+therefore, who hated the French, and cherished a secret love of those
+bluff British captains&mdash;so like themselves in build, and thought,
+and slowness of speech&mdash;who would thrash their wooden brigs through
+the shallow seas, despite decrees and threats and sloops-of-war, so
+long as they could lay them alongside the granaries of the Vistula.&nbsp;
+Lately the very tolls had been collected by a French customs service,
+and the wholesale smuggling, to which even Governor Rapp&mdash;that
+long-headed Alsatian&mdash;had closed his eyes, was at an end.</p>
+<p>Again, the Poles who looked on Dantzig as the seaport of that great
+kingdom of Eastern Europe which was and is no more, had been assured
+that France would set up again the throne of the Jagellons and the Sobieskis.&nbsp;
+There was a Poniatowski high in the Emperor&rsquo;s service and esteem.&nbsp;
+The Poles were for France.</p>
+<p>The Jew, hurrying along close by the wall&mdash;always in the shadow&mdash;traded
+with all and trusted none.&nbsp; Who could tell what thoughts were hidden
+beneath the ragged fur cap&mdash;what revenge awaited its consummation
+in the heart crushed by oppression and contempt?</p>
+<p>Besides these civilians there were many who had a military air within
+their civil garb.&nbsp; For the pendulum of war had swung right across
+from Cadiz to Dantzig, and swept northwards in its wake the merchants
+of death, the men who live by feeding soldiers and rifling the dead.</p>
+<p>All these were in the streets, rubbing shoulders with the gay epaulettes
+of the Saxons, the Badeners, the W&uuml;rtembergers, the Westphalians,
+and the Hessians, who had been poured into Dantzig by Napoleon during
+the months when he had continued to exchange courteous and affectionate
+letters with Alexander of Russia.&nbsp; For more than a year the broad-faced
+Bavarians (who have borne the brunt of every war in Central Europe)
+had been peaceably quartered in the town.&nbsp; Half a dozen different
+tongues were daily heard in this city of the plain, and no man knew
+who might be his friend and who his enemy.&nbsp; For some who were allies
+to-day were commanded by their kings to slay each other to-morrow.</p>
+<p>In the wine-cellars and the humbler beer-shops, in the great houses
+of the councillors, and behind the snowy lace curtains of the Frauengasse
+and the Portchaisengasse a thousand slow Northerners spoke of these
+things and kept them in their hearts.&nbsp; A hundred secret societies
+passed from mouth to mouth instruction, warning, encouragement.&nbsp;
+Germany has always been the home of the secret society.&nbsp; Northern
+Europe gave birth to those countless associations which have proved
+stronger than kings and surer than a throne.&nbsp; The Hanseatic League,
+the first of the commercial unions which were destined to build up the
+greatest empire of the world, lived longest in Dantzig.</p>
+<p>The Tugendbund, men whispered, was not dead but sleeping.&nbsp; Napoleon,
+who had crushed it once, was watching for its revival; had a whole army
+of his matchless secret police ready for it.&nbsp; And the Tugendbund
+had had its centre in Dantzig.</p>
+<p>Perhaps, in the Rathskeller itself&mdash;one of the largest wine
+stores in the world, where tables and chairs are set beneath the arches
+of the Exchange, a vast cave under the streets&mdash;perhaps here the
+Tugendbund still encouraged men to be virtuous and self-denying for
+no other or higher purpose than the overthrow of the Scourge of Europe.&nbsp;
+Here the richer citizens have met from time immemorial to drink with
+solemnity and a decent leisure the wines sent hither in their own ships
+from the Rhine, from Greece and the Crimea, from Bordeaux and Burgundy,
+from the Champagne and Tokay.&nbsp; This is not only the Rathskeller,
+but the real Rathhaus, where the Dantzigers have taken counsel over
+their afternoon wine from generation to generation, whence have been
+issued to all the world those decrees of probity and a commercial uprightness
+between buyer and seller, debtor and creditor, master and man, which
+reached to every corner of the commercial world.&nbsp; And now it was
+whispered that the latter-day Dantzigers&mdash;the sons of those who
+formed the Hanseatic League: mostly fat men with large faces and shrewd,
+calculating eyes; high foreheads; good solid men, who knew the world,
+and how to make their way in it; withal, good judges of a wine and great
+drinkers, like that William the Silent, who braved and met and conquered
+the European scourge of medi&aelig;val times&mdash;it was whispered
+that these were reviving the Tugendbund.</p>
+<p>Amid such contending interests, and in a free city so near to several
+frontiers, men came and went without attracting undesired attention.&nbsp;
+Each party suspected a new-comer of belonging to the other.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He scrapes a fiddle,&rdquo; Koch had explained to the inquiring
+fishwife.&nbsp; And perhaps he knew no more than this of Antoine Sebastian.&nbsp;
+Sebastian was poor.&nbsp; All the Frauengasse knew that.&nbsp; But the
+Frauengasse itself was poor, and no man in Dantzig was so foolish at
+this time as to admit that he had possessions.</p>
+<p>This was, moreover, not the day of display or snobbery.&nbsp; The
+king of snobs, Louis XVI., had died to some purpose, for a wave of manliness
+had swept across human thought at the beginning of the century.&nbsp;
+The world has rarely been the poorer for the demise of a Bourbon.</p>
+<p>The Frauengasse knew that Antoine Sebastian played the fiddle to
+gain his daily bread, while his two daughters taught dancing for that
+same safest and most satisfactory of all motives.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But he holds his head so high!&rdquo; once observed the stout
+and matter-of-fact daughter of a Councillor.&nbsp; &ldquo;Why has he
+that grand manner?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Because he is a dancing-master,&rdquo; replied D&eacute;sir&eacute;e
+with a grave assurance.&nbsp; &ldquo;He does it so that you may copy
+him.&nbsp; Chin up.&nbsp; Oh! how fat you are.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>D&eacute;sir&eacute;e herself was slim enough and as yet only half
+grown.&nbsp; She did not dance so well as Mathilde, who moved through
+a quadrille with the air of a duchess, and threw into a polonaise or
+mazurka a quiet grace which was the envy and despair of her pupils.&nbsp;
+Mathilde was patient with the slow and heavy of foot, while D&eacute;sir&eacute;e
+told them bluntly that they were fat.&nbsp; Nevertheless, they were
+afraid of Mathilde, and only laughed at D&eacute;sir&eacute;e when she
+rushed angrily at them, and, seizing them by the arms, danced them round
+the room with the energy of despair.</p>
+<p>Sebastian, who had an oddly judicial air, such as men acquire who
+are in authority, held the balance evenly between the sisters, and smiled
+apologetically over his fiddle towards the victim of D&eacute;sir&eacute;e&rsquo;s
+impetuosity.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; he would reply to watching mothers, who tried
+to lead him to say that their daughter was the best dancer in the school:
+&ldquo;Yes, Mathilde puts it into their heads, and D&eacute;sir&eacute;e
+shakes it down to their feet.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>In all matters of the household D&eacute;sir&eacute;e played a similar
+part.&nbsp; She was up early and still astir after nine o&rsquo;clock
+at night, when the other houses in the Frauengasse were quiet, if there
+were work to do.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It is because she has no method,&rdquo; said Mathilde, who
+had herself a well-ordered mind, and that quickness which never needs
+to hurry.</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<h2>CHAPTER V.&nbsp; THE WEISSEN R&Ouml;SS&rsquo;L.</h2>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<i>The moth will singe her wings, and
+singed return,<br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Her love of light
+quenching her fear of pain.</i></p>
+<p>There are quite a number of people who get through life without realizing
+their own insignificance.&nbsp; Ninety-nine out of a hundred persons
+signify nothing, and the hundredth is usually so absorbed in the message
+which he has been sent into the world to deliver that he loses sight
+of the messenger altogether.</p>
+<p>By a merciful dispensation of Providence we are permitted to bustle
+about in our immediate little circle like the ant, running hither and
+thither with all the sublime conceit of that insect.&nbsp; We pick up,
+as he does, a burden which on close inspection will be found to be absolutely
+valueless, something that somebody else has thrown away.&nbsp; We hoist
+it over obstructions while there is usually a short way round; we fret
+and sweat and fume.&nbsp; Then we drop the burden and rush off at a
+tangent to pick up another.&nbsp; We write letters to our friends explaining
+to them what we are about.&nbsp; We even indite diaries to be read by
+goodness knows whom, explaining to ourselves what we have been doing.&nbsp;
+Sometimes we find something that really looks valuable, and rush to
+our particular ant-heap with it while our neighbours pause and watch
+us.&nbsp; But they really do not care; and if the rumour of our discovery
+reach so far as the next ant-heap, the bustlers there are almost indifferent,
+though a few may feel a passing pang of jealousy.&nbsp; They may perhaps
+remember our name, and will soon forget what we discovered&mdash;which
+is Fame.&nbsp; While we are falling over each other to attain this,
+and dying to tell each other what it feels like when we have it, or
+think we have it, let us pause for a moment and think of an ant&mdash;who
+kept a diary.</p>
+<p>D&eacute;sir&eacute;e did not keep a diary.&nbsp; Her life was too
+busy for ink.&nbsp; She had had to work for her daily bread, which is
+better than riches.&nbsp; Her life had been full of occupation from
+morning till night, and God had given her sleep from night till morning.&nbsp;
+It is better to work for others than to think for them.&nbsp; Some day
+the world will learn to have a greater respect for the workers than
+for the thinkers, who are idle, wordy persons, frequently thinking wrong.</p>
+<p>D&eacute;sir&eacute;e remembered the siege and the occupation of
+Dantzig by French troops.&nbsp; She was at school in the Jopengasse
+when the Treaty of Tilsit&mdash;that peace which was nothing but a pause&mdash;was
+concluded.&nbsp; She had seen Luisa of Prussia, the good Queen who baffled
+Napoleon.&nbsp; Her childhood had passed away in the roar of siege-guns.&nbsp;
+Her girlhood, in the Frauengasse, had been marked by the various woes
+of Prussia, by each successive step in the development of Napoleon&rsquo;s
+ambition.&nbsp; There were no bogey-men in the night-nursery at the
+beginning of the century.&nbsp; One Aaron&rsquo;s rod of a bogey had
+swallowed all the rest, and children buried their sobs in the pillow
+for fear of Napoleon.&nbsp; There were no ghosts in the dark corners
+of the stairs when D&eacute;sir&eacute;e, candle in hand, went to bed
+at eight o&rsquo;clock, half an hour before Mathilde.&nbsp; The shadows
+on the wall were the shadows of soldiers&mdash;the wind roaring in the
+chimney was like the sound of distant cannon.&nbsp; When the timid glanced
+over their shoulders, the apparition they looked for was that of a little
+man in a cocked hat and a long grey coat.</p>
+<p>This was not an age in which the individual life was highly valued.&nbsp;
+Men were great to-day and gone to-morrow.&nbsp; Women were of small
+account.&nbsp; It was the day of deeds and not of words.</p>
+<p>D&eacute;sir&eacute;e had never been oppressed by a sense of her
+own importance, which oppression leaves its mark on many a woman&rsquo;s
+face in these times.&nbsp; She had not, it would seem, expected much
+from life; and when much was given to her she received it without misgivings.&nbsp;
+She was young and light-hearted, and she lived in a reckless age.</p>
+<p>She was not surprised when Charles failed to return.&nbsp; The chaise
+that was to carry them to Zoppot stood in the Frauengasse on the shady
+side of the street in the heat of the afternoon for more than an hour.&nbsp;
+Then she ran out and told the driver to go back to his stables.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;One cannot go for a honeymoon alone,&rdquo; she explained
+airily to her father, who was peevish and restless, standing by the
+window with the air of one who expects without knowing what to expect.&nbsp;
+&ldquo;It is, at all events, quite clear that there is nothing for me
+to do but wait.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She made light of it, and laughed at her father&rsquo;s grave face.&nbsp;
+Mathilde said nothing, but her silence seemed to suggest that this was
+no more than she had foretold, or at all events foreseen.&nbsp; She
+was too proud or too generous to put her thoughts into words.&nbsp;
+For pride and generosity are often confounded.&nbsp; There are many
+who give because they are too proud to withhold.</p>
+<p>D&eacute;sir&eacute;e got her needlework and sat by the open window
+awaiting Charles.&nbsp; She could hear the continuous clatter of carts
+on the quay, and the voices of the men working in the great granaries
+across the river.</p>
+<p>The whole city seemed to be astir, and men hurried to and fro in
+even the quiet Frauengasse, while the clatter of cavalry and the heavy
+rumble of gun carriages could be heard over the roofs from the direction
+of the Langenmarkt.&nbsp; There was a sense of hurry in the dusty air.&nbsp;
+The Emperor had arrived, and the magic of his name lifted men out of
+themselves.&nbsp; It seemed nothing extraordinary to D&eacute;sir&eacute;e
+that her life should be taken up by this whirlwind, and carried on she
+knew not whither.</p>
+<p>At dinner-time Charles had not returned.&nbsp; Antoine Sebastian
+dined at half-past four, in the manner of Northern Europe; but his daughters
+provided his table with the lighter meats of France, which he preferred
+to the German cuisine.&nbsp; Sebastian&rsquo;s dinner was an event in
+the day, though he ate sparingly enough, and found a mental rather than
+a physical pleasure in the ceremonious sequence of courses.</p>
+<p>It was now too late to think of going to Zoppot.&nbsp; After dinner
+Mathilde and D&eacute;sir&eacute;e prepared the rooms which had been
+destined for the occupation of the married pair after the honeymoon.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;We shall have to omit Zoppot, that is all,&rdquo; said D&eacute;sir&eacute;e
+cheerfully, and fell to unpacking the bridal clothes which had been
+so merrily laid in the trunks.</p>
+<p>At half-past six a soldier brought a hurried note from Charles.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I cannot return to-night, as I am about to start for K&ouml;nigsberg,&rdquo;
+he wrote.&nbsp; &ldquo;It is a commission which I could not refuse if
+I wished to.&nbsp; You, I know, would have me go and do my duty.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>There was more which D&eacute;sir&eacute;e did not read aloud.&nbsp;
+Charles had always found it easy enough to tell D&eacute;sir&eacute;e
+how much he loved her, and was gaily indifferent to the ears of others.&nbsp;
+But she seemed to be restrained by some feeling which had found birth
+in her heart during her wedding day.&nbsp; She said nothing of Charles&rsquo;s
+protestations of love.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Decidedly,&rdquo; she said, folding the letter, and placing
+it in her work-basket, &ldquo;Fate is interfering in our affairs to-day.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She turned to her work again without further complaint, almost with
+a sense of relief.&nbsp; Mathilde, whose steady grey eyes saw everything,
+penetrating every thought, glanced at her with a suddenly aroused interest.&nbsp;
+D&eacute;sir&eacute;e herself was half surprised at the philosophy with
+which she met this fresh misfortune.</p>
+<p>Antoine Sebastian had never acquired the habit of drinking tea in
+the evening, which had found favour in these northern countries bordering
+on Russia.&nbsp; Instead, he usually went out at this time to one of
+the many wine-rooms or Bier Halles in the town to drink a slow and meditative
+glass of beer with such friends as he had made in Dantzig.&nbsp; For
+he was a lonely man, whose face was quite familiar to many who looked
+for a bow or a friendly salutation in vain.</p>
+<p>If he went to the Rathskeller it was on the invitation of a friend;
+for he could not afford to pay the vintage of that cellar, though he
+drank the wine with the slow mouthing of a connoisseur when he had it.</p>
+<p>More often than not he took a walk first, passing out of the Frauenthor
+on to the quay, where he turned to left or right and made his way back
+through one or other of the town gates, by devious narrow streets to
+that which is still called the Portchaisengasse though chairs and carriers
+have long ceased to pass along it.&nbsp; Here, on the northern side
+of the street is an old inn, &ldquo;Zum weissen R&ouml;ss&rsquo;l,&rdquo;
+with a broken, ill-carved head of a white horse above the door.&nbsp;
+Across the face of the house is written, in old German letters, an invitation:</p>
+<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Gr&uuml;ss
+Gott.&nbsp; Tritt ein!<br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Bring
+Gl&uuml;ck herein.</p>
+<p>But few seemed to accept it.&nbsp; Even a hundred years ago the White
+Horse was behind the times, and fashion sought the wider streets.</p>
+<p>Antoine Sebastian was perhaps ashamed of frequenting so humble a
+house of entertainment, where for a groschen he could have a glass of
+beer.&nbsp; He seemed to make his way through the narrower streets for
+some purpose, changing his route from day to day, and hurrying across
+the wider thoroughfares with the air of one desirous to attract but
+little attention.&nbsp; He was not alone in the quiet streets, for there
+were many in Dantzig at this time who from wealth had fallen to want.&nbsp;
+Many counting-houses once noisy with prosperity were now closed and
+silent.&nbsp; For five years the prosperous Dantzig had lain crushed
+beneath the iron heel of the conqueror.</p>
+<p>It would seem that Sebastian had only waited for the explanation
+of Charles&rsquo;s most ill-timed absence to carry out his usual programme.&nbsp;
+The clock in the tower of the Rathhaus had barely struck seven when
+he took his hat and cloak from the peg near the dining-room door.&nbsp;
+He was so absorbed that he did not perceive Papa Barlasch seated just
+within the open door of the kitchen.&nbsp; But Barlasch saw him, and
+scratched his head at the sight.</p>
+<p>The northern evenings are chill even in June, and Sebastian fumbled
+with his cloak.&nbsp; It would appear that he was little used to helping
+himself in such matters.&nbsp; Barlasch came out of the kitchen when
+Sebastian&rsquo;s back was turned and helped him to put the flowing
+cloak straight upon his shoulders.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Thank you, Lisa, thank you,&rdquo; said Sebastian in German,
+without looking round.&nbsp; By accident Barlasch had performed one
+of Lisa&rsquo;s duties, and the master of the house was too deeply engaged
+in thought to notice any difference in the handling or to perceive the
+smell of snuff that heralded the approach of Papa Barlasch.&nbsp; Sebastian
+took his hat and went out closing the door behind him, and leaving Barlasch,
+who had followed him to the door, standing rather stupidly on the mat.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Absent-minded&mdash;the citizen,&rdquo; muttered Barlasch,
+returning to the kitchen, where he resumed his seat on a chair by the
+open door.&nbsp; He scratched his head and appeared to lapse into thought.&nbsp;
+But his brain was slow as were his movements.&nbsp; He had been drinking
+to the health of the bride.&nbsp; He thumped himself on the brow with
+his closed fist.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Sacred-name-of-a-thunderstorm,&rdquo; he said.&nbsp; &ldquo;Where
+have I seen that face before?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Sebastian went out by the Frauenthor to the quay.&nbsp; Although
+it was dusk, the granaries were still at work.&nbsp; The river was full
+of craft and the roadway choked by rows and rows of carts, all of one
+pattern, too big and too heavy for roads that are laid across a marsh.</p>
+<p>He turned to the right, but found his way blocked at the corner of
+the Langenmarkt, where the road narrows to pass under the Gr&uuml;nes
+Thor.&nbsp; Here the idlers of the evening hour were collected in a
+crowd, peering over each other&rsquo;s shoulders towards the roadway
+and the bridge.&nbsp; Sebastian was a tall man, and had no need to stand
+on tip-toe in order to see the straight rows of bayonets swinging past,
+and the line of shakos rising and falling in unison with the beat of
+a thousand feet on the hollow woodwork of the drawbridge.</p>
+<p>The troops had been passing out of the city all the afternoon on
+the road to Elbing and K&ouml;nigsberg.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It is the same,&rdquo; said a man standing near to Sebastian,
+&ldquo;at the Hohes Thor, where they are marching out by the road leading
+to K&ouml;nigsberg by way of Dessau.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It is farther than K&ouml;nigsberg that they are going,&rdquo;
+was the significant answer of a white-haired veteran who had probably
+been at Eylau, for he had a crushed look.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But war is not declared,&rdquo; said the first speaker.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Does that matter?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>And both turned towards Sebastian with the challenging air that invites
+opinion or calls for admiration of uncommon shrewdness.&nbsp; He was
+better clad than they.&nbsp; He must know more than they did.&nbsp;
+But Sebastian looked over their heads and did not seem to have heard
+their conversation.</p>
+<p>He turned back and went another way, by side streets and the little
+narrow alleys that nearly always encircle a cathedral, and are still
+to be found on all sides of the Marienkirche.&nbsp; At last he came
+to the Portchaisengasse, which was quiet enough in the twilight, though
+he could hear the tramp of soldiers along the Langgasse and the rumble
+of the guns.</p>
+<p>There were only two lamps in the Portchaisengasse, swinging on wrought-iron
+gibbets at each end of the street.&nbsp; These were not yet alight,
+though the day was fading fast, and the western light could scarcely
+find its way between the high gables which hung over the road and seemed
+to lean confidentially towards each other.</p>
+<p>Sebastian was going towards the door of the Weissen R&ouml;ss&rsquo;l
+when some one came out of the hostelry, as if he had been awaiting him
+within the porch.</p>
+<p>The new-comer, who was a fat man with baggy cheeks and odd, light
+blue eyes&mdash;the eyes of an enthusiast, one would say&mdash;passed
+Sebastian, making a little gesture which at once recommended silence,
+and bade him turn and follow.&nbsp; At the entrance to a little alley
+leading down towards the Marienkirche the fat man awaited Sebastian,
+whose pace had not quickened, nor had his walk lost any of its dignity.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Not there to-night,&rdquo; said the man, holding up a thick
+forefinger and shaking it sideways.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Then where?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Nowhere to-night,&rdquo; was the answer.&nbsp; &ldquo;He has
+come&mdash;you know that?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; answered Sebastian slowly, &ldquo;for I saw him.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He is at supper now with Rapp and the others.&nbsp; The town
+is full of his people.&nbsp; His spies are everywhere.&nbsp; There are
+two in the Weissen R&ouml;ss&rsquo;l who pretend to be Bavarians.&nbsp;
+See!&nbsp; There is another&mdash;just there.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He pointed the thick forefinger down the Portchaisengasse where it
+widens to meet the Langgasse, where the last remains of daylight, reflected
+to and fro between the houses, found freer play than in the narrow alley
+where they stood.</p>
+<p>Sebastian looked in the direction indicated.&nbsp; An officer was
+walking away from them.&nbsp; A quick observer would have noticed that
+his spurs made no noise, and that he carried his sword instead of allowing
+it to clatter after him.&nbsp; It was not clear whence he had come.&nbsp;
+It must have been from a doorway nearly opposite to the Weissen R&ouml;ss&rsquo;l.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I know that man,&rdquo; said Sebastian.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;So do I,&rdquo; was the reply.&nbsp; &ldquo;It is Colonel
+de Casimir.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>With a little nod the fat man went out again into the Portchaisengasse
+in the direction of the inn, as if he were keeping watch there.</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<h2>CHAPTER VI.&nbsp; THE SHOEMAKER OF K&Ouml;NIGSBERG.</h2>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<i>Chacun ne comprend que ce qu&rsquo;il
+trouve en soi.</i></p>
+<p>Nearly two years had passed since the death of Queen Luisa of Prussia.&nbsp;
+And she from her grave yet spake to her people&mdash;as sixty years
+later she was destined to speak to another King of Prussia, who said
+a prayer by her tomb before departing on a journey that was to end in
+Fontainebleau with an imperial crown and the reckoning for all time
+of the seven years of woe that followed Tilsit and killed a queen.</p>
+<p>Two years earlier than that, in 1808, while Luisa yet lived, a few
+scientists and professors of K&ouml;nigsberg had formed a sort of Union&mdash;vague
+enough and visionary&mdash;to encourage virtue and discipline and patriotism.&nbsp;
+And now, in 1812, four years later, the memory of Luisa still lingered
+in those narrow streets that run by the banks of the Pregel beneath
+the great castle of K&ouml;nigsberg, while the Tugendbund, like a seed
+that has been crushed beneath an iron heel, had spread its roots underground.</p>
+<p>From Dantzig, the commercial, to K&ouml;nigsberg, the kingly and
+the learned, the tide of war rolled steadily onwards.&nbsp; It is a
+tide that carries before it a certain flotsam of quick and active men,
+keen-eyed, restless, rising&mdash;men who speak with a sharp authority
+and pay from a bottomless purse.&nbsp; The arrival of Napoleon in Dantzig
+swept the first of the tide on to K&ouml;nigsberg.</p>
+<p>Already every house was full.&nbsp; The high-gabled warehouses on
+the riverside could not be used for barracks, for they too had been
+crammed from floor to roof with stores and arms.&nbsp; So the soldiers
+slept where they could.&nbsp; They bivouacked in the timber-yards by
+the riverside.&nbsp; The country-women found the Neuer Markt transformed
+into a camp when they brought their baskets in the early morning, but
+they met with eager buyers, who haggled laughingly in half a dozen different
+tongues.&nbsp; There was no lack of money, however.</p>
+<p>Cartloads of it were on the road.</p>
+<p>The Neuer Markt in K&ouml;nigsberg is a square, of which the lower
+side is a quay on the Pregel.&nbsp; The river is narrow here.&nbsp;
+Across it the country is open.&nbsp; The houses surrounding the quadrangle
+are all alike&mdash;two-storied buildings with dormer windows in the
+roof.&nbsp; There are trees in front.&nbsp; In front of that which is
+now Number Thirteen, at the right-hand corner, facing west, sideways
+to the river, the trees grow quite close to the windows, so that an
+active man or a boy might without great risk leap from the eaves below
+the dormer window into the topmost branches of the linden, which here
+grows strong and tough, as it surely should do in the fatherland.</p>
+<p>A young soldier, seeking lodgings, who happened to knock at the door
+of Number Thirteen less than thirty hours after the arrival of Napoleon
+at Dantzig, looked upward through the shady boughs, and noted their
+growth with the light of interest in his eye.&nbsp; It would almost
+seem that the house had been described to him as that one in the Neuer
+Markt against which the lindens grew.&nbsp; For he had walked all round
+the square between the trees and houses before knocking at this door,
+which bore no number then, as it does to-day.</p>
+<p>His tired horse had followed him meditatively, and now stood with
+drooping head in the shade.&nbsp; The man himself wore a dark uniform,
+white with dust.&nbsp; His hair was dusty and rather lank.&nbsp; He
+was not a very tidy soldier.</p>
+<p>He stood looking at the sign which swung from the doorpost, a relic
+of the Polish days.&nbsp; It bore the painted semblance of a boot.&nbsp;
+For in Poland&mdash;a frontier country, as in frontier cities where
+many tongues are heard&mdash;it is the custom to paint a picture rather
+than write a word.&nbsp; So that every house bears the sign of its inmate&rsquo;s
+craft, legible alike to Lithuanian or Ruthenian, Swede or Cossack of
+the Don.</p>
+<p>He knocked again, and at last the door was opened by a thickly-built
+man, who looked, not at his face, but at his boots.&nbsp; As these wanted
+no repair he half closed the door again and looked at the newcomer&rsquo;s
+face.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What do you want?&rdquo; he asked.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;A lodging.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The door was almost closed, when the soldier made an odd and, as
+it would seem, tentative gesture with his left hand.&nbsp; All the fingers
+were clenched, and with his extended thumb he scratched his chin slowly
+from side to side.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I have no lodging to let,&rdquo; said the bootmaker.&nbsp;
+But he did not shut the door.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I can pay,&rdquo; said the other, with his thumb still at
+his chin.&nbsp; He had quick, blue eyes beneath the shaggy hair that
+wanted cutting.&nbsp; &ldquo;I am very tired&mdash;it is only for one
+night.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Who are you?&rdquo; asked the bootmaker.</p>
+<p>The soldier was a dull and slow man.&nbsp; He leant against the doorpost
+with tired gestures before replying.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Sergeant in a Schleswig regiment, in charge of spare horses.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And you have come far?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;From Dantzig without a halt.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The shoemaker looked him up and down with a doubting eye, as if there
+were something about him that was not quite clear and above-board.&nbsp;
+The dust and fatigue were, however, unmistakable.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Who sent you to me, anyway?&rdquo; he grumbled.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, I do not know,&rdquo; was the half-impatient answer; &ldquo;the
+man I lodged with in Dantzig or another, I forget.&nbsp; It was Koch
+the locksmith in the Schmiedegasse.&nbsp; See, I have money.&nbsp; I
+tell you it is for one night.&nbsp; Say yes or no.&nbsp; I want to get
+to bed and to sleep.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;How much do you pay?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;A thaler&mdash;if you like.&nbsp; Among friends, one is willing
+to pay.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>After a short minute of hesitation the shoemaker opened the door
+wider and came out.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And there will be another thaler for the horse, which I shall
+have to take to the stable of the wood-merchant at the corner.&nbsp;
+Go into the workshop and sit down till I come.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He stood in the doorway and watched the soldier seat himself wearily
+on a bench in the workshop among the ancient boots, past repair, one
+would think, and lean his head against the wall.</p>
+<p>He was half asleep already, and the bootmaker, who was lame, shrugged
+his shoulders as he led away the tired horse, with a gesture half of
+pity, half of doubting suspicion.&nbsp; Had it suggested itself to his
+mind, and had it been within the power of one so halt and heavy-footed
+to turn back noiselessly, he would have found his visitor wide-awake
+enough, hurriedly opening every drawer and peering under the twine and
+needles, lifting every bale of leather, shaking out the very boots awaiting
+repair.</p>
+<p>When the dweller in Number Thirteen returned, the soldier was asleep,
+and had to be shaken before he would open his eyes.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Will you eat before you go to bed?&rdquo; asked the bootmaker
+not unkindly.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I ate as I came along the street,&rdquo; was the reply.&nbsp;
+&ldquo;No, I will go to bed.&nbsp; What time is it?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It is only seven o&rsquo;clock&mdash;but no matter.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No, it is no matter.&nbsp; To-morrow I must be astir by five.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Good,&rdquo; said the shoemaker.&nbsp; &ldquo;But you will
+get your money&rsquo;s worth.&nbsp; The bed is a good one.&nbsp; It
+is my son&rsquo;s.&nbsp; He is away, and I am alone in the house.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He led the way upstairs as he spoke, going heavily one step at a
+time, so that the whole house seemed to shake beneath his tread.&nbsp;
+The room was that attic in the roof which has a dormer window overhanging
+the linden tree.&nbsp; It was small and not too clean; for K&ouml;nigsberg
+was once a Polish city, and is not far from the Russian frontier.</p>
+<p>The soldier hardly noticed his surroundings, but sat down instantly,
+with the abandonment of a shepherd&rsquo;s dog at the day&rsquo;s end.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I will put a stitch in your boots for you while you sleep,&rdquo;
+said the host casually.&nbsp; &ldquo;The thread is rotten, I can see.&nbsp;
+Look here&mdash;and here!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He stooped, and with a quick turn of the awl which he carried in
+his belt he snapped the sewing at the join of the leg and the upper
+leather, bringing the frayed ends of the thread out to view.</p>
+<p>Without answering, the soldier looked round for the boot-jack, lacking
+which, no German or Polish bedroom is complete.</p>
+<p>When the bootmaker had gone, carrying the boots under his arm, the
+soldier, left to himself, made a grimace at the closed door.&nbsp; Without
+boots he was a prisoner in the house.&nbsp; He could hear his host at
+work already, downstairs in the shop, of which the door opened to the
+stairs and allowed passage to that smell of leather which breeds Radical
+convictions.</p>
+<p>The regular &ldquo;tap-tap&rdquo; of the cobbler&rsquo;s hammer continued
+for an hour until dusk, and all the while the soldier lay dressed on
+his bed.&nbsp; Soon after, a creaking of the stairs told of the surreptitious
+approach of the unwilling host.&nbsp; He listened outside, and even
+tried the door, but found it bolted.&nbsp; The soldier, open-eyed on
+the bed, snored aloud.&nbsp; At the sound of the key on the outside
+of the door he made a grimace again.&nbsp; His features were very mobile,
+for Schleswig.</p>
+<p>He heard the bootmaker descend the stairs again almost noiselessly,
+and, rising from the bed, he took his station at the window.&nbsp; All
+the Langgasse would seem to be eating-houses.&nbsp; The basement, which
+has a separate door, gives forth odours of simple Pomeranian meats,
+and every other house bears to this day the curt but comforting inscription,
+&ldquo;Here one eats.&rdquo;&nbsp; It was only to be supposed that the
+bootmaker at the end of his day would repair for supper to some special
+haunt near by.</p>
+<p>But the smell of cooking mingling with that of leather told that
+he was preparing his own evening meal.&nbsp; He was, it seemed, an unsociable
+man, who had but a son beneath his roof, and mostly lived alone.</p>
+<p>Seated near the window, where the sunset light yet lingered, the
+Schleswiger opened his haversack, which was well supplied, and finding
+paper, pens and ink, fell to writing with one eye watchful of the window
+and both ears listening for any movement in the room below.</p>
+<p>He wrote easily with a running pen, and sometimes he smiled as he
+wrote.&nbsp; More than once he paused and looked across the Neuer Markt
+above the trees and the roofs, towards the western sky, with a sudden
+grave wistfulness.&nbsp; He was thinking of some one in the west.&nbsp;
+It was assuredly not of war that this soldier wrote.&nbsp; Then, again,
+his attention would be attracted to some passer in the street below.&nbsp;
+He only gave half of his attention to his letter.&nbsp; He was, it seemed,
+a man who as yet touched life lightly; for he was quite young.&nbsp;
+But, nevertheless, his pen, urged by only half a mind that had all the
+energy of spring, flew over the paper.&nbsp; Sowing is so much easier
+than reaping.</p>
+<p>Suddenly he threw his pen aside and moved quickly to the window which
+stood open.&nbsp; The shoemaker had gone out, closing the door softly
+behind him.</p>
+<p>It was to be expected that he would turn to the left, upwards towards
+the town and the Langgasse, but it was in the direction of the river
+that his footsteps died away.&nbsp; There was no outlet on that side
+except by boat.</p>
+<p>It was almost dark now, and the trees growing close to the window
+obscured the view.&nbsp; So eager was the lodger to follow the movements
+of his landlord that he crept in stocking-feet out on to the roof.&nbsp;
+By lying on his face below the window he could just distinguish the
+shadowy form of a lame man by the river edge.&nbsp; He was moving to
+and fro, unchaining a boat moored to the steps, which are more used
+in winter when the Pregel is a frozen roadway than in summer.&nbsp;
+There was no one else in the Neuer Markt, for it was the supper hour.</p>
+<p>Out in the middle of the river a few ships were moored: high-prowed,
+square-sterned vessels of a Dutch build trading in the Frische Haaf
+and in the Baltic.</p>
+<p>The soldier saw the boat steal out towards them.&nbsp; There was
+no other boat at the steps or in sight.&nbsp; He stood up on the edge
+of the roof, and after carefully measuring his distance, with quick
+eyes aglow with excitement, he leapt lightly across the leafy space
+into the topmost boughs, where he alighted in a forked branch almost
+without sound.</p>
+<p>At dawn the next morning, while the shoemaker still slept, the soldier
+was astir again.&nbsp; He shivered as he rose, and went to the window,
+where his clothes were hanging from a rafter.&nbsp; The water was still
+dripping from them.&nbsp; Wrapt in a blanket he sat down by the open
+window to write while the morning air should dry his clothes.</p>
+<p>That which he wrote was a long report&mdash;sheet after sheet closely
+written.&nbsp; And in the middle of his work he broke off to read again
+the letter that he had written the night before.&nbsp; With a quick,
+impulsive gesture he kissed the name it bore.&nbsp; Then he turned to
+his work again.</p>
+<p>The sun was up before he folded the papers together.&nbsp; By way
+of a postscript he wrote a brief letter.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;DEAR C.&mdash;I have been fortunate, as you will see from
+the enclosed report.&nbsp; His Majesty cannot again say that I have
+been neglectful.&nbsp; I was quite right.&nbsp; It is Sebastian and
+only Sebastian that we need fear.&nbsp; Here they are clumsy conspirators
+compared to him.&nbsp; I have been in the river half the night listening
+at the open stern-window of a Reval pink to every word they said.&nbsp;
+His Majesty can safely come to K&ouml;nigsberg.&nbsp; Indeed, he is
+better out of Dantzig.&nbsp; For the whole country is riddled with that
+which they call patriotism, and we treason.&nbsp; But I can only repeat
+what his Majesty disbelieved the day before yesterday&mdash;that the
+heart of the ill is Dantzig, and the venom of it Sebastian.&nbsp; Who
+he really is and what he is about you must find out how you can.&nbsp;
+I go forward to-day to Gumbinnen.&nbsp; The enclosed letter to its address,
+I beg of you, if only in acknowledgment of all that I have sacrificed.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The letter was unsigned, and bore the date, &ldquo;Dawn, June 10.&rdquo;&nbsp;
+This and the report, and that other letter (carefully sealed with a
+wafer) which did not deal with war or its alarms, were all placed in
+one large envelope.&nbsp; He did not seal it, however, but sat thinking
+while the sun began to shine on the opposite houses.&nbsp; Then he withdrew
+the open letter, and added a postscript to it:</p>
+<p>&ldquo;If an attempt were made on N.&rsquo;s life&mdash;I should
+say Sebastian.&nbsp; If Prussia were to play us false suddenly, and
+cut us off from France&mdash;I should say nothing else than Sebastian.&nbsp;
+He is more dangerous than a fanatic; for he is too clever to be one.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The writer shivered and laughed in sheer amusement at his own misery
+as he drew on his wet clothes.&nbsp; The shoemaker was already astir,
+and presently knocked at his door.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, yes,&rdquo; the soldier cried, &ldquo;I am astir.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>And as his host rattled the door he opened it.&nbsp; He had unrolled
+his long cavalry cloak, and wore it over his wet clothes.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You never told me your name,&rdquo; said the shoemaker.&nbsp;
+A suspicious man is always more suspicious at the beginning of the day.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;My name,&rdquo; answered the other carelessly.&nbsp; &ldquo;Oh!
+my name is Max Brunner.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<h2>CHAPTER VII.&nbsp; THE WAY OF LOVE.</h2>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<i>Celui qui souffle le feu s&rsquo;expose &agrave;
+&ecirc;tre br&ucirc;l&eacute; par les &eacute;tincelles.</i></p>
+<p>It was said that Colonel de Casimir&mdash;that guest whose presence
+and uniform lent an air of distinction to the quiet wedding in the Frauengasse&mdash;was
+a Pole from Cracow.&nbsp; Men also whispered that he was in the confidence
+of the Emperor.&nbsp; But this must only have been a manner of speaking.&nbsp;
+For no man was ever admitted fully into the thoughts of that superhuman
+mind.</p>
+<p>De Casimir was left behind in Dantzig when the army moved forward.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;There will be a great battle,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;somewhere
+near Vilna&mdash;and I shall miss it.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Indeed, every man was striving to get to the front.&nbsp; He who,
+himself, had given a new meaning to human ambition seemed able to inspire
+not only Frenchmen but soldiers of every nationality with fire from
+his own consuming flame.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes! madame,&rdquo; said de Casimir; for it was to D&eacute;sir&eacute;e
+that he spoke, &ldquo;and your husband is more fortunate than I.&nbsp;
+He is sure of a staff appointment.&nbsp; He will be among the first.&nbsp;
+It will soon be over.&nbsp; To-morrow war is to be declared.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>They were in the street&mdash;not far from the Frauengasse, whence
+D&eacute;sir&eacute;e, always practical, was hurrying towards the market-place.&nbsp;
+De Casimir had seemed idle until he perceived her.</p>
+<p>D&eacute;sir&eacute;e made a little movement of horror at the announcement.&nbsp;
+She did not know that the fighting had already begun.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ah!&rdquo; cried de Casimir with a reassuring smile.&nbsp;
+&ldquo;You must be of good cheer.&nbsp; There will be no war at all.&nbsp;
+I tell you that in confidence.&nbsp; Russia will be paralyzed.&nbsp;
+I was going towards the Frauengasse when I perceived you; to pay my
+respects to your father, to say a word to you.&nbsp; Come&mdash;you
+are smiling again.&nbsp; That is right.&nbsp; You were so grave, madame,
+as you hurried along with your eyes looking far away.&nbsp; You must
+not think of Charles, if the thoughts make you look as you looked then.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>His manner was kind and confidential and easy&mdash;inviting in response
+that which the confidential always expect, a return in kind.&nbsp; It
+is either hit or miss with such people; and de Casimir missed.&nbsp;
+He saw D&eacute;sir&eacute;e draw back.&nbsp; She was young, and of
+that clear fairness of skin which seems to let the thoughts out through
+the face so that any can read them.&nbsp; That which her face expressed
+at that moment was a clear and definite refusal to confide anything
+whatsoever in this little dark man who stood in front of her, looking
+into her eyes with a deferential and sympathetic glance.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I know for certain,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;that Charles was
+well two days ago, and that he is highly thought of in high quarters.&nbsp;
+I can tell you that, at all events.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Thank you,&rdquo; said D&eacute;sir&eacute;e.&nbsp; She had
+nothing against de Casimir.&nbsp; She had only seen him once or twice,
+and she knew him to be Charles&rsquo;s friend, and in some sense his
+patron.&nbsp; For de Casimir held a high position in Dantzig.&nbsp;
+She was quite ready to like him since Charles liked him; but she intended
+to do so at her own range.&nbsp; It is always the woman who measures
+the distance.</p>
+<p>D&eacute;sir&eacute;e made a little movement as if to continue on
+her way; and de Casimir instantly stood aside, with a bow.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Shall I find your father at home?&rdquo; he asked.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I think so.&nbsp; He was at home when I left,&rdquo; she answered,
+responding to his salute with a friendly nod.</p>
+<p>De Casimir watched her go and stood for a moment in reflection, as
+if going over in his mind that which had passed between them.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I must try the other one,&rdquo; he said to himself as he
+turned down the Pfaffengasse.&nbsp; He continued his way at a leisurely
+pace.&nbsp; At the corner of the Frauengasse he lingered in the shadow
+of the linden trees, and while so doing saw Antoine Sebastian quit the
+door of No. 36, going in the opposite direction towards the river, and
+pass out through the Frauenthor on to the quay.</p>
+<p>He made a little gesture of annoyance on being told by the servant
+that Sebastian was out.&nbsp; After a moment&rsquo;s reflection, he
+seemed to make up his mind to ignore the conventionalities.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It is merely,&rdquo; he said in his friendly and confidential
+manner to the servant, in perfect German, &ldquo;that I have news from
+Monsieur Darragon, the husband of Mademoiselle D&eacute;sir&eacute;e.&nbsp;
+Madame is out&mdash;you say.&nbsp; Well, then, what is to be done?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He had a most charming, grave manner of asking advice which few could
+resist.</p>
+<p>The servant nodded at him with a twinkle of understanding in her
+eye.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;There is Fr&auml;ulein Mathilde.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But . . .&nbsp; well, ask her if she will do me the honour
+of speaking to me for an instant.&nbsp; I leave it to you . . . .&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But come in,&rdquo; protested the servant.&nbsp; &ldquo;Come
+upstairs.&nbsp; She will see you; why not?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>And she led the way upstairs.&nbsp; Papa Barlasch, sitting just within
+the kitchen door, where he sat all day doing nothing, glanced upwards
+through his overhanging eyebrows at the clink of spurs and the clatter
+of de Casimir&rsquo;s sword against the banisters.&nbsp; He had the
+air of a watchdog.</p>
+<p>Mathilde was not in the drawing-room, and the servant left the visitor
+there alone, saying that she would seek her mistress.&nbsp; There were
+one or two books on the tables.&nbsp; One table was rather untidy; it
+was D&eacute;sir&eacute;e&rsquo;s.&nbsp; A writing-desk stood in the
+corner of the room.&nbsp; It was locked&mdash;and the lock was a good
+one.&nbsp; De Casimir was an observant man.&nbsp; He had time to make
+this observation, and to see that there were no letters in D&eacute;sir&eacute;e&rsquo;s
+work-basket; to note the titles of the books and the absence of name
+on the flyleaf, and was looking out of the window when the door opened
+and Mathilde came in.</p>
+<p>This was a day when women were treated with a great show of deference,
+while in reality they had but little voice in the world&rsquo;s affairs.&nbsp;
+De Casimir&rsquo;s bow was deeper and more elaborate than would be considered
+polite to-day.&nbsp; On standing erect he quickly suppressed a glance
+of surprise.</p>
+<p>Mathilde must have expected him.&nbsp; She was dressed in white,
+and her hair was tied with a bright ribbon.&nbsp; In her cheeks, usually
+so pale, was a little touch of colour.&nbsp; It may have been because
+D&eacute;sir&eacute;e was not near, but de Casimir had never known until
+this moment how pretty Mathilde really was.&nbsp; There was something
+in her eyes, too, which gripped his attention.&nbsp; He remembered that
+at the wedding he had never seen her eyes.&nbsp; They had always been
+averted.&nbsp; But now they met his with a troubling directness.</p>
+<p>De Casimir had a gallant manner.&nbsp; All women commanded his eager
+respect, which they could assess at such value as their fancy painted,
+remembering that it is for the woman to measure the distance.&nbsp;
+On the few occasions of previous encounters, de Casimir had been <i>empress&eacute;</i>
+in his manner towards Mathilde.&nbsp; As he looked at her, his quick
+mind ran back to former meetings.&nbsp; He had no recollection of having
+actually made love to her.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Mademoiselle,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;for a soldier&mdash;in
+time of war&mdash;the conventions may, perhaps, be slightly relaxed.&nbsp;
+I was told that you were alone&mdash;that your father is out, and yet
+I persisted&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He spread out his hands and laughed appealingly, begging her, it
+would seem, to help him out of the social difficulty in which he found
+himself.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;My father will be sorry&mdash;&rdquo; she began.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That is hardly the question,&rdquo; he interrupted; &ldquo;I
+was thinking of your displeasure.&nbsp; But I have an excuse, I assure
+you.&nbsp; I only ask a moment to tell you that I have heard from K&ouml;nigsberg
+that Charles Darragon is in good health there, and is moving forward
+with the advance-guard to the frontier.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You are kind to come so soon,&rdquo; answered Mathilde, and
+there was an odd note of disappointment in her voice.&nbsp; De Casimir
+must have heard it, for he glanced at her again with a gleam of surprise
+in his eyes.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That is my excuse, Mademoiselle,&rdquo; he said with a tentative
+emphasis, as if he were feeling his way.&nbsp; He was an opportunist
+with all the quickness of one who must live by his wits among others
+existing on the same uncertain fare.&nbsp; He saw her flush, and again
+he hesitated as a wayfarer may hesitate when he finds an easy road where
+he had expected to climb a hill.&nbsp; What was the meaning of it? he
+seemed to ask himself.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Charles does not interest you so much as he interests your
+sister?&rdquo; he suggested.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He has never interested me much,&rdquo; she replied indifferently.&nbsp;
+She did not ask him to sit down.&nbsp; It would not have been etiquette
+in an age when women were by some odd misjudgment considered incapable
+of managing their own hearts.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Is that because he is in love, Mademoiselle?&rdquo; inquired
+de Casimir with a guarded laugh.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Perhaps so.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She did not look at him.&nbsp; De Casimir had not missed this time.&nbsp;
+His air of candid confidence had met with a quick response.&nbsp; He
+laughed again and moved towards the door.&nbsp; Mathilde stood motionless,
+and although she said no word, nor by any gesture bade him stay, he
+stopped on the threshold and turned again towards her.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It was my conscience,&rdquo; he said, looking at her over
+his shoulder, &ldquo;that bade me go.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Her face and her averted eyes asked why, but her straight lips were
+silent.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Because I cannot claim to be more interesting than Charles
+Darragon,&rdquo; he hazarded.&nbsp; &ldquo;And you, Mademoiselle, confess
+that you have no tolerance for a man who is in love.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I have no tolerance for a man who is weakened by love.&nbsp;
+He should be strengthened and hardened by it.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;To&mdash;?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;To do a man&rsquo;s work in the world,&rdquo; said Mathilde
+coldly.</p>
+<p>De Casimir was standing by the open door.&nbsp; He closed it with
+his foot.&nbsp; He was professedly a man alert for the chance of a moment,
+which he was content to grasp without pausing to look ahead.&nbsp; Should
+there be difficulties yet unperceived, these in turn might present an
+opportunity to be seized by the quick-witted.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Then you would admit, Mademoiselle,&rdquo; he said gravely,
+&ldquo;that there may be good in a love that fights continually against
+ambition, and&mdash;does not prevail.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Mathilde did not answer at once.&nbsp; There was an odd suggestion
+of antagonism in their attitude towards each other&mdash;not irreconcilable,
+the poets tell us, with love&mdash;but this is assuredly not the Love
+that comes from Heaven and will go back there to live through eternity.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said she at length.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Such is my love for you,&rdquo; he said, his quick instinct
+telling him that with Mathilde few words were best.</p>
+<p>He only spoke the thoughts of his age; for ambition was the ruling
+passion in men&rsquo;s hearts at this time.&nbsp; All who served the
+Great Adventurer gave it the first place in their consideration, and
+de Casimir only aped his betters.&nbsp; Though oddly enough the only
+two of all the great leaders who were to emerge still greater from the
+coming war&mdash;Ney and Eugene&mdash;thought otherwise on these matters.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I mean to be great and rich, Mademoiselle,&rdquo; he added
+after a pause.&nbsp; &ldquo;I have risked my life for that purpose half
+a dozen times.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Mathilde stood looking across the room towards the window.&nbsp;
+He could only see her profile and the straight line of her lips.&nbsp;
+She too was the product of a generation in which men rose to dazzling
+heights without the aid of women.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I should not have troubled you with these details, Mademoiselle,&rdquo;
+he said, watching her.&nbsp; His instinct was very keen, for not one
+woman in a thousand, even in those days, would have admitted that love
+was a detail.&nbsp; &ldquo;I should not have mentioned it&mdash;had
+you not given me your views&mdash;so strangely in harmony with my own.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Whatever his nationality, his voice was that of a Pole&mdash;rich,
+musical, and expressive.&nbsp; He could have made, one would have thought,
+a very different sort of love had he wished, or had he been sincere.&nbsp;
+But he was an opportunist.&nbsp; This was the sort of love that Mathilde
+wanted.</p>
+<p>He came a step nearer to her and stood resting on his sword&mdash;a
+lean hard man who had seen much war.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Until you opened my eyes,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;I did not
+know, or did not care to know, that love, far from being a drag on ambition,
+may be a help.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Mathilde made a little movement towards him which she instantly repressed.&nbsp;
+The heart is quicker, but the head nearly always has the last word.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Mademoiselle,&rdquo; he said&mdash;and no doubt he saw the
+movement and the restraint&mdash;&ldquo;will you help me now at the
+beginning of the war, and listen to me again at the end of it&mdash;if
+I succeed?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>After all, he was modest in his demands.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Will you help me?&nbsp; Together, Mademoiselle&mdash;to what
+height may we not rise in these days?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>There was a ring of sincerity in his voice, and her eyes answered
+it.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;How can I help you?&rdquo; she asked in a doubting voice.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, it is a small matter,&rdquo; was the reply.&nbsp; &ldquo;But
+it is one in which the Emperor is personally interested.&nbsp; Such
+things have a special attraction for him.&nbsp; The human interest never
+fails to hold his attention.&nbsp; If I do well, he will know it and
+remember me.&nbsp; It is a question, Mademoiselle, of secret societies.&nbsp;
+You know that Prussia is riddled with them.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Mathilde did not answer.&nbsp; He studied her face, which was clean
+cut and hard like a marble bust&mdash;a good face to hide a secret.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It is my duty to watch here in Dantzig and to report to the
+Emperor.&nbsp; In serving myself I could also perhaps serve a friend,
+one who might otherwise run into danger&mdash;who may be in danger while
+you and I stand here.&nbsp; For the Emperor strikes hard and quickly.&nbsp;
+I speak of your father, Mademoiselle&mdash;and of the Tugendbund.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Still he could not see from the pale profile whether Mathilde knew
+anything at all.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And if I procure information for you?&rdquo; asked she at
+length, in a quiet and collected voice.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You will help me to attain a position such as I could ask&mdash;even
+you&mdash;to share with me.&nbsp; And you would do your father no harm.&nbsp;
+You would even render him a service.&nbsp; For all the secret societies
+in Germany will not stop Napoleon.&nbsp; It is only God who can stop
+him now, Mademoiselle.&nbsp; All men who attempt it will only be crushed
+beneath the wheels.&nbsp; I might save your father.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>But Mathilde did not seem to be thinking of her father.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I am hampered by poverty,&rdquo; de Casimir said, changing
+his ground.&nbsp; &ldquo;In the old days it did not matter.&nbsp; But
+now, in the Empire, one must be rich.&nbsp; I shall be rich&mdash;at
+the end of this campaign.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Again his voice was sincere, and again her eyes responded.&nbsp;
+He made a step forward, and gently taking her hand, he raised it to
+his lips.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You will help me!&rdquo; he said, and, turning abruptly on
+his heel, he left her.</p>
+<p>De Casimir&rsquo;s quarters were in the Langenmarkt.&nbsp; On returning
+to them, he took from his despatch-case a letter which he turned over
+thoughtfully in his hand.&nbsp; It was addressed to D&eacute;sir&eacute;e,
+and sealed carefully with a wafer.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;She may as well have it,&rdquo; he said.&nbsp; &ldquo;It will
+be as well that she should be occupied with her own affairs.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<h2>CHAPTER VIII.&nbsp; A VISITATION.</h2>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<i>&nbsp;&nbsp;Be wiser than other people if you
+can, but do not tell them so.</i></p>
+<p>Whenever Papa Barlasch caught sight of his unwilling host&rsquo;s
+face, he turned his own aside with a despairing upward nod.&nbsp; Once
+or twice, during the early days of his occupation of the room behind
+the kitchen in the Frauengasse, he smote himself sharply on the brow,
+as if calling upon his brain to make an effort.&nbsp; But afterwards
+he seemed to resign himself to this lapse of memory, and the upward
+despairing nod gradually lost intensity until at last he brought himself
+to pass Antoine Sebastian in the narrow passage with no more emphatic
+notice than a scowl.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You and I,&rdquo; he said to D&eacute;sir&eacute;e, &ldquo;are
+the friends.&nbsp; The others&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>And his gesture seemed to permit the others to go hang if they so
+desired.&nbsp; The army had gone forward, leaving Dantzig in that idle
+restlessness which holds those who, finding themselves in a house of
+sickness, are not permitted entry to the darkened chamber, but must
+await the crisis elsewhere.</p>
+<p>There were some busy enough in the commerce that must exist between
+a huge army and its base, in the forwarding of war material and stores,
+in accommodating the sick and sending out in return those who were to
+fill the gaps.&nbsp; But the Dantzigers themselves had nothing to do.&nbsp;
+Their prosperous trade was paralyzed.&nbsp; Those who had aught to sell
+had sold it.&nbsp; The high-seas and the high-roads were alike blocked
+by the French.&nbsp; And rumour, ever busy among those that wait, ran
+to and fro in the town.</p>
+<p>The Emperor of Russia had been taken prisoner.&nbsp; Napoleon had
+been checked at the passage of the Niemen.&nbsp; There had been a great
+battle at Gumbinnen, and the French were in full retreat.&nbsp; Vilna
+had capitulated to Murat, and the war was at an end.&nbsp; A hundred
+authentic despatches of the morning were the subject of contemptuous
+laughter at the supper-table.</p>
+<p>Lisa heard these tales in the market-place, and told D&eacute;sir&eacute;e,
+who, as often as not, translated them to Barlasch.&nbsp; But he only
+held up his wrinkled forefinger and shook it slowly from side to side.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Woman&rsquo;s chatter!&rdquo; he said.&nbsp; &ldquo;What is
+the German for &lsquo;magpie&rsquo;?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>And on being told the word, he repeated it gravely to Lisa.&nbsp;
+For he had not only fulfilled his promise of settling down in the house,
+but had assumed therein a distinct and clearly defined position.&nbsp;
+He was the counsellor, and from his chair just within the kitchen he
+gave forth judgment.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And you,&rdquo; he said to D&eacute;sir&eacute;e one morning,
+when household affairs had taken her to the kitchen, &ldquo;you are
+troubled this morning.&nbsp; You have had a letter from your husband?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes&mdash;and he is in good health.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ah!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Barlasch glared at her beneath his brows, looking her up and down,
+noting her quick movements, which had the uncertainty of youth.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And now that he is gone,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;and that there
+is war, you are going to employ yourself by falling in love with him,
+when you had all the time before, and did not take advantage of it.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>D&eacute;sir&eacute;e laughed at him and made no other answer.&nbsp;
+While she spoke to Lisa he sat and watched them.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It would be like a woman to do such a thing,&rdquo; he pursued.&nbsp;
+&ldquo;They are so inconvenient&mdash;women.&nbsp; They get married
+for fun, and then one fine Thursday they find they have missed all the
+fun, like one who comes late to the theatre&mdash;when the music is
+over.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He went to the table and examined the morning marketing, which Lisa
+had laid out in preparation for dinner.&nbsp; Of some of her purchases
+he approved, but he laughed aloud at a lettuce which had no heart, and
+at such a buyer.</p>
+<p>Then D&eacute;sir&eacute;e attracted his scrutiny again.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; he said, half to himself, &ldquo;I see it.&nbsp;
+You are in love.&nbsp; Just Heaven, I know!&nbsp; I have had them in
+love with me . . . . Barlasch.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That must have been a long time ago,&rdquo; answered D&eacute;sir&eacute;e
+with her gay laugh, only giving him half her attention.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, it was a century ago.&nbsp; But they were the same then
+as they are now, as they always will be&mdash;inconvenient.&nbsp; They
+waited, however, till they were grown up!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>And with his ever-ready accusing finger he drew D&eacute;sir&eacute;e&rsquo;s
+attention to her own slimness.&nbsp; They were left alone for a minute
+while Lisa answered a knock at the door, during which time Barlasch
+sat in grim silence.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It is a letter,&rdquo; said Lisa, returning.&nbsp; &ldquo;A
+sailor brought it.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Another?&rdquo; said Barlasch, with a gesture of despair.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Can you give me news of Charles?&rdquo; D&eacute;sir&eacute;e
+read, in a writing that was unknown to her.&nbsp; &ldquo;I shall wait
+a reply until midnight on board the <i>Elsa</i>, lying off the Krahn-Thor.&rdquo;&nbsp;
+The letter bore the signature, &ldquo;Louis d&rsquo;Arragon.&rdquo;&nbsp;
+D&eacute;sir&eacute;e turned slowly and went upstairs, carrying it folded
+small in her closed hand.</p>
+<p>She was alone in the house, for Mathilde was out and her father had
+not yet returned from his evening walk.&nbsp; She stood at the head
+of the stairs, where the last of the daylight filtered through the barred
+window, and read the letter again.&nbsp; Then she turned and gave a
+slight start to see Barlasch at the foot of the stairs beckoning to
+her.&nbsp; He made no attempt to come up, but stood on the mat like
+a dog that has been forbidden the upper rooms.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Is it about your father?&rdquo; he asked, in a hoarse whisper.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He made a gesture commanding secrecy and silence.&nbsp; Then he went
+to close the kitchen door and returned on tip-toe.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It is,&rdquo; he explained, &ldquo;that they are talking of
+him in the caf&eacute;s.&nbsp; There are many to be arrested to-morrow.&nbsp;
+They say the patron is one of them, and employs himself in plotting.&nbsp;
+That his name is not Sebastian at all.&nbsp; That he is a Frenchman
+who escaped the guillotine.&nbsp; What do I know?&nbsp; It is the gossip
+of the caf&eacute;s.&nbsp; But I tell it you because we are friends,
+you and I.&nbsp; And some day I may want you to do something for me.&nbsp;
+One thinks of one&rsquo;s self, eh?&nbsp; It is good to make friends.&nbsp;
+For some day one may want them.&nbsp; That is why I do it.&nbsp; I think
+of myself.&nbsp; An old soldier.&nbsp; Of the Guard.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>With many gestures of tremendous import, and a face all wrinkled
+and twisted with mystery, he returned to the kitchen.</p>
+<p>Mathilde was not to return until late.&nbsp; She had gone to the
+house of the old Gr&auml;fin whose reminiscences had been a fruitful
+topic at D&eacute;sir&eacute;e&rsquo;s wedding.&nbsp; After dining there
+she and the Gr&auml;fin were to go together to a farewell reception
+given by the Governor.&nbsp; For Rapp was bound for the frontier with
+the rest, and was to go to the war as first aide-de-camp to the Emperor.</p>
+<p>Mathilde could not be back until ten o&rsquo;clock.&nbsp; She, who
+was so quick and quiet, had been much occupied in social observances
+lately, and had made fast friends with the Gr&auml;fin during the last
+few days, constantly going to see her.</p>
+<p>D&eacute;sir&eacute;e knew that what Barlasch had repeated as the
+gossip of the caf&eacute;s was in part, if not wholly, true.&nbsp; She
+and Mathilde had long known that any mention of France had the instant
+effect of turning their father into a man of stone.&nbsp; It was the
+skeleton in this quiet house that sat at table with its inmates, a shadowy
+fourth tying their tongues.&nbsp; The rattle of its bones seemed to
+paralyze Sebastian&rsquo;s mind, and at any moment he would fall into
+a dumb and stricken apathy which terrified those about him.&nbsp; At
+such times it seemed that one thought in his mind had swallowed all
+the rest, so that he heard without understanding and saw without perceiving.</p>
+<p>He was in such a humour when he came back to dinner.&nbsp; He passed
+D&eacute;sir&eacute;e on the stairs without speaking and went to his
+room to change his clothes, for he never relaxed his formal habits.&nbsp;
+At the dinner-table he glanced at her as a dog, knowing that he is ill,
+may be seen to glance with a secret air at his master, wondering whether
+he is detected.</p>
+<p>D&eacute;sir&eacute;e had always hoped that her father would speak
+to her when this humour was upon him and tell her the meaning of it.&nbsp;
+Perhaps it would come to-night, when they were alone.&nbsp; There was
+an unspoken sympathy existing between them in which Mathilde took no
+share, which had even shut out Charles as out of a room where there
+was no light, into which D&eacute;sir&eacute;e and her father went at
+times and stood hand-in-hand without speaking.</p>
+<p>They dined in silence, while Lisa hurried about her duties, oppressed
+by a sense of unknown fear.&nbsp; After dinner they went to the drawing-room
+as usual.&nbsp; It had been a dull day, with great clouds creeping up
+from the West.&nbsp; The evening fell early, and the lamps were already
+alight.&nbsp; D&eacute;sir&eacute;e looked to the wicks with the eye
+of experience when she entered the room.&nbsp; Then she went to the
+window.&nbsp; Lisa did not always draw the curtains effectually.&nbsp;
+She glanced down into the street, and turned suddenly on her heel, facing
+her father.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;They are there,&rdquo; she said.&nbsp; For she had seen shadowy
+forms lurking beneath the trees of the Frauengasse.&nbsp; The street
+was ill-lighted, but she knew the shadows of the trees.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;How many?&rdquo; asked Sebastian, in a dull voice.</p>
+<p>She glanced at him quickly&mdash;at his still, frozen face and quiescent
+hands.&nbsp; He was not going to rise to the occasion, as he sometimes
+did even from his deepest apathy.&nbsp; She must do alone anything that
+was to be accomplished to-night.</p>
+<p>The house, like many in the Frauengasse, had been built by a careful
+Hanseatic merchant, whose warehouse was his own cellar half sunk beneath
+the level of the street.&nbsp; The door of the warehouse was immediately
+under the front door, down a few steps below the street, while a few
+more steps, broad and footworn, led up to the stone veranda and the
+level of the lower dwelling-rooms.&nbsp; A guard placed in the street
+could thus watch both doors without moving.</p>
+<p>There was a third door, giving exit from the little room where Barlasch
+slept to the small yard where he had placed those trunks which were
+made in France.</p>
+<p>D&eacute;sir&eacute;e had no time to think.&nbsp; She came of a race
+of women of a brighter intelligence than any women in the world.&nbsp;
+She took her father by the arm and hastened downstairs.&nbsp; Barlasch
+was at his post within the kitchen door.&nbsp; His eyes shone suddenly
+as he saw her face.&nbsp; It was said of Papa Barlasch that he was a
+gay man in battle, laughing and making a hundred jests, but at other
+times lugubrious.&nbsp; D&eacute;sir&eacute;e saw him smile for the
+first time, in the dim light of the passage.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;They are there in the street,&rdquo; he said; &ldquo;I have
+seen them.&nbsp; I thought you would come to Barlasch.&nbsp; They all
+do&mdash;the women.&nbsp; In here.&nbsp; Leave him to me.&nbsp; When
+they ring the bell, receive them yourself&mdash;with smiles.&nbsp; They
+are only men.&nbsp; Let them search the house if they want to.&nbsp;
+Tell them he has gone to the reception with Mademoiselle.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>As he spoke the bell rang just above his head.&nbsp; He looked up
+at it and laughed.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ah, ah!&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;the fanfare begins.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He drew Sebastian within and closed the door of his little room.&nbsp;
+Lisa had already gone to answer the bell.&nbsp; When she opened the
+door three men stepped quickly over the threshold, and one of them,
+thrusting her aside, closed the door and turned the key.&nbsp; D&eacute;sir&eacute;e,
+in her white evening dress, on the bottom step, just beneath the lamp
+that hung from the ceiling, made them pause and look at each other.&nbsp;
+Then one of the three came towards her, hat in hand.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Our duty, Fr&auml;ulein,&rdquo; he said awkwardly.&nbsp; &ldquo;We
+are but obeying orders.&nbsp; A mere formality.&nbsp; It will all be
+explained, no doubt, if the householder, Antoine Sebastian, will put
+on his hat and come with us.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;His hat is not there, as you see,&rdquo; answered D&eacute;sir&eacute;e.&nbsp;
+&ldquo;You must seek him elsewhere.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The man shook his head with a knowing smile.&nbsp; &ldquo;We must
+seek him in this house,&rdquo; he said.&nbsp; &ldquo;We will make it
+as easy for you as we can, Fr&auml;ulein&mdash;if you make it easy for
+us.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>As he spoke he produced a candle from his pocket, and encouraged
+the broken wick with his finger-nail.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It will make it pleasanter for all,&rdquo; said D&eacute;sir&eacute;e
+cheerfully, &ldquo;if you will accept a candlestick.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The man glanced at her.&nbsp; He was a heavy man, with little suspicious
+eyes set close together.&nbsp; He seemed to be concluding that she had
+outwitted him&mdash;that Sebastian was not in the house.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Where are the cellar-stairs?&rdquo; he asked.&nbsp; &ldquo;I
+warn you, Fr&auml;ulein, it is useless to conceal your father.&nbsp;
+We shall, of course, find him.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>D&eacute;sir&eacute;e pointed to the door next to that giving entry
+to the kitchen.&nbsp; It was bolted and locked.&nbsp; D&eacute;sir&eacute;e
+found the key for them.&nbsp; She not only gave them every facility,
+but was anxious that they should be as quick as possible.&nbsp; They
+did not linger in the cellar, which, though vast, was empty; and when
+they returned, D&eacute;sir&eacute;e, who was waiting for them, led
+the way upstairs.</p>
+<p>They were rather abashed by her silence.&nbsp; They would have preferred
+protestations and argument.&nbsp; Discussion always belittles.&nbsp;
+The smile recommended by Papa Barlasch, lurking at the corner of her
+lips, made them feel foolish.&nbsp; She was so slight and young and
+helpless, that a sort of shame rendered them clumsy.</p>
+<p>They felt more at home in the kitchen when they arrived there, and
+the sight of Lisa, sturdy and defiant, reminded them of the authority
+upon which D&eacute;sir&eacute;e had somehow cast a mystic contempt.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;There is a door there,&rdquo; said the heavy official, with
+a brusque return of his early manner.&nbsp; &ldquo;Come, what is that
+door?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That is a little room.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Then open it.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I cannot,&rdquo; returned Lisa.&nbsp; &ldquo;It is locked.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Aha!&rdquo; said the man, with a laugh of much meaning.&nbsp;
+&ldquo;On the inside, eh?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He went to it, and banged on it with his fist.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Come,&rdquo; he shouted, &ldquo;open it and be done.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>There was a short silence, during which those in the kitchen listened
+breathlessly.&nbsp; A shuffling sound inside the door made the officer
+of the law turn and beckon to his two men to come closer.</p>
+<p>Then, after some fumbling, as of one in the dark, the door was unlocked
+and slowly opened.</p>
+<p>Papa Barlasch stood in a very primitive night-apparel within the
+door.&nbsp; He had not done things by halves, for he was an old campaigner,
+and knew that a thing half done is better left undone in times of war.&nbsp;
+He noted the presence of D&eacute;sir&eacute;e and Lisa, but was not
+ashamed.&nbsp; The reason of it was soon apparent.&nbsp; For Papa Barlasch
+was drunk, and the smell of drink came out of his apartment in a warm
+wave.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It is the soldier billeted in the house,&rdquo; explained
+Lisa, with a half-hysterical laugh.</p>
+<p>Then Barlasch harangued them in the language of intoxication.&nbsp;
+If he had not spared D&eacute;sir&eacute;e&rsquo;s feelings, he spared
+her ears less now; for he was an ignorant man, who had lived through
+a brutal period in the world&rsquo;s history the roughest life a man
+can lead.&nbsp; Two of the men held him with difficulty against the
+wall, while the third hastily searched the room&mdash;where, indeed,
+no one could well be concealed.</p>
+<p>Then they quitted the house, followed by the polyglot curses of Barlasch,
+who was now endeavouring to find his bayonet amidst his chaotic possessions.</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<h2>CHAPTER IX.&nbsp; THE GOLDEN GUESS.</h2>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<i>The
+golden guess<br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Is morning star to the
+full round of truth.</i></p>
+<p>Barlasch was never more sober in his life than when he emerged a
+minute later from his room, while Lisa was still feverishly bolting
+the door.&nbsp; He had not wasted much time at his toilet.&nbsp; In
+his flannel shirt, his arms bare to the elbow, knotted and muscular,
+he looked like some rude son of toil.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;One thinks of one&rsquo;s self,&rdquo; he hastened to explain
+to D&eacute;sir&eacute;e, fearing that she might ascribe some other
+motive to his action.&nbsp; &ldquo;Some day the patron may be in power
+again, and then he will remember a poor soldier.&nbsp; It is good to
+think of the future.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He shook his head pessimistically at Lisa as belonging to a sex liable
+to error: instanced in this case by bolting the door too eagerly.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Now,&rdquo; he said, turning to D&eacute;sir&eacute;e again,
+&ldquo;have you any in Dantzig to help you?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; she answered rather slowly.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Then send for him.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I cannot do that.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Then go for him yourself,&rdquo; snapped Barlasch impatiently.</p>
+<p>He looked at her fiercely beneath his shaggy eyebrows.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It is no use to be afraid,&rdquo; he said; &ldquo;you are
+afraid&mdash;I see it in your face.&nbsp; And it is never any use.&nbsp;
+Before they hammered on that door there, my legs shook.&nbsp; For I
+am easily afraid&mdash;I.&nbsp; But it is never any use.&nbsp; And when
+one opens the door, it goes.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He looked at her with a puzzled frown, seeking in vain, it may have
+been, the ordinary symptoms of fear.&nbsp; She was hesitating but not
+afraid.&nbsp; There ran blood in her veins which will for all time be
+associated by history with a gay and indomitable courage.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Come,&rdquo; he said sharply; &ldquo;there is nothing else
+to do.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I will go,&rdquo; said D&eacute;sir&eacute;e, at length, deciding
+suddenly to do the one thing that is left to a woman once or twice in
+her life&mdash;to go to the one man and trust him.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;By the back way,&rdquo; said Barlasch, helping her with the
+cloak that Lisa had brought, and pulling the hood forward over her face
+with a jerk.&nbsp; &ldquo;Ah, I know that way.&nbsp; The patron is hiding
+in the yard.&nbsp; An old soldier looks to the retreat&mdash;though
+the Emperor has saved us that, so far.&nbsp; Come, I will help you over
+the wall, for the door is rusted.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The way, which Barlasch had perceived, led through the room at the
+back of the kitchen to a yard, and thence through a door not opened
+by the present occupiers of the old house, into a very labyrinth of
+narrow alleys running downward to the river and round the tall houses
+that stand against the cathedral walls.</p>
+<p>The wall was taller than Barlasch, but he ran at it like a cat, and
+D&eacute;sir&eacute;e standing below could see the black outline of
+his limbs crouching on the top.&nbsp; He stooped down, and grasping
+her hands, lifted her by the sheer strength of one arm, balanced her
+for an instant on the wall, and then lowered her on the outer side.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Run,&rdquo; he whispered.</p>
+<p>She knew the way, and although the night was dark, and these narrow
+alleys between high walls had no lamps, D&eacute;sir&eacute;e lost no
+time.&nbsp; The Krahn-Thor is quite near to the Frauengasse.&nbsp; Indeed,
+the whole of Dantzig occupied but a small space between the rivers in
+those straitened days.&nbsp; The town was quieter than it had been for
+months, and D&eacute;sir&eacute;e passed unmolested through the narrow
+streets.&nbsp; She made her way to the quay, passing through the low
+gateway known as the door of the Holy Ghost, and here found people still
+astir.&nbsp; For the commerce that thrives on a northern river is paralyzed
+all the winter, and feverishly active when the ice has gone.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The <i>Elsa</i>,&rdquo; replied a woman, who had been selling
+bread all day on the quay, and was now packing up her stall, &ldquo;you
+ask for the <i>Elsa</i>.&nbsp; There is such a ship, I know.&nbsp; But
+how can I say which she is?&nbsp; See, they lie right across the river
+like a bridge.&nbsp; Besides, it is late, and sailors are rough men.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>D&eacute;sir&eacute;e hurried on.&nbsp; Louis d&rsquo;Arragon had
+said that the ship was lying near to the Krahn-Thor, of which the great
+hooded roof loomed darkly against the stars above her.&nbsp; She was
+looking about her when a man came forward with the hesitating step of
+one who has been told to wait the arrival of some one unknown to him.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The <i>Elsa</i>,&rdquo; she said to him; &ldquo;which ship
+is it?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Come along with me, Mademoiselle,&rdquo; the man replied;
+&ldquo;though I was not told to look for a woman.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He spoke in English, which D&eacute;sir&eacute;e hardly understood;
+for she had never heard it from English lips, and looked for the first
+time on one of that race upon which all the world waited now for salvation.&nbsp;
+For the English, of all the nations, were the only men who from the
+first had consistently defied Napoleon.</p>
+<p>The sailor led the way towards the river.&nbsp; As he passed the
+lamp burning dimly above some steps, D&eacute;sir&eacute;e saw that
+he was little more than a boy.&nbsp; He turned and offered her his hand
+with a shy laugh, and together they stood at the bottom of the steps
+with the water lapping at their feet.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Have you a letter,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;or will you come
+on board?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Then perceiving that she did not understand, he repeated the question
+in German.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I will come on board,&rdquo; she answered.</p>
+<p>The <i>Elsa</i> was lying in the middle of the river, and the boat
+into which D&eacute;sir&eacute;e stepped shot across the water without
+sound of oars.&nbsp; The sailor was paddling it noiselessly at the stern.&nbsp;
+D&eacute;sir&eacute;e was not unused to boats, and when they came alongside
+the <i>Elsa</i> she climbed on board without help.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;This way,&rdquo; said the sailor, leading her towards the
+deckhouse where a light burned dimly behind red curtains.&nbsp; He knocked
+at the door and opened it without awaiting a reply.&nbsp; In the little
+cabin two men sat at a table, and one of them was Louis d&rsquo;Arragon
+dressed in the rough clothes of a merchant seaman.&nbsp; He seemed to
+recognize D&eacute;sir&eacute;e at once, though she still stood without
+the door, in the darkness.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You?&rdquo; he said in surprise.&nbsp; &ldquo;I did not expect
+you, madame.&nbsp; You want me?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; answered D&eacute;sir&eacute;e, stepping over
+the combing.&nbsp; Louis&rsquo;s companion, who was also a sailor, coarsely
+clad, rose and, awkwardly taking off his cap, hurried to the door, murmuring
+some vague apology.&nbsp; It is not always the roughest men who have
+the worst manners towards women.</p>
+<p>He closed the door behind him, leaving D&eacute;sir&eacute;e and
+Louis looking at each other by the light of an oil lamp that flickered
+and gave forth a greasy smell.&nbsp; The little cabin was smoke-ridden,
+and smelt of ancient tar.&nbsp; It was no bigger than the table in the
+drawing-room in the Frauengasse, across which he had bowed to her in
+farewell a few days earlier, little knowing when and where they were
+to meet again.&nbsp; For fate can always turn a surprise better than
+the human fancy.</p>
+<p>Behind the curtain, the window stood open, and the high, clear song
+of the wind through the rigging filled the little cabin with a continuous
+minor note of warning which must have been part of his life; for he
+must have heard it, as all sailors do, sleeping or waking, night and
+day.</p>
+<p>He was probably so accustomed to it that he never heeded it.&nbsp;
+But it filled D&eacute;sir&eacute;e&rsquo;s ears, and whenever she heard
+it in after-life, in memory this moment came again to her, and she looked
+back to it, as a traveller may look back to a milestone at a cross-road,
+and wonder where his journey might have ended had he taken another turning.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;My father,&rdquo; she said quickly, &ldquo;is in danger.&nbsp;
+There is no one else in Dantzig to whom we can turn, and&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She paused.&nbsp; What was she going to add?&nbsp; She hesitated,
+and then was silent.&nbsp; There was no reason why she should have elected
+to come to him.&nbsp; At all events she gave none.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I am glad I was in Dantzig when it happened,&rdquo; he said,
+turning to take up his cap, which was of rough dark fur, such as seamen
+wear even in summer at night in the Northern seas.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Come,&rdquo; he added, &ldquo;you can tell me as we go ashore.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>But they did not speak while the sailor sculled the boat to the steps.&nbsp;
+On the quay they would probably pass unnoticed, for there were many
+strange sailors at this time in Dantzig, and Louis d&rsquo;Arragon might
+easily be mistaken for one of the French seamen who had brought stores
+by sea from Bordeaux and Brest and Cherbourg.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Now tell me,&rdquo; he said, as they walked side by side;
+and in voluble French, D&eacute;sir&eacute;e launched into her story.&nbsp;
+It was rather incoherent, by reason, perhaps, of its frankness.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Stop&mdash;stop,&rdquo; he interrupted gravely, &ldquo;who
+is Barlasch?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Louis walked rather slowly in his stiff sea-boots at her side, and
+she instinctively spoke less rapidly as she explained the part that
+Barlasch had played.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And you trust him?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Of course,&rdquo; she answered.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But why?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, you are so matter-of-fact,&rdquo; she exclaimed; &ldquo;I
+do not know.&nbsp; Because he is trustworthy, I suppose.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She continued the story, but suddenly stopped and looked up at him
+under the shadow of her hood.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You are silent,&rdquo; she said.&nbsp; &ldquo;Do you know
+something about my father of which I am ignorant?&nbsp; Is that it?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No,&rdquo; he answered, &ldquo;I am trying to follow&mdash;that
+is all.&nbsp; You leave so much to my imagination.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But I have no time to explain things,&rdquo; she protested.&nbsp;
+&ldquo;Every moment is of value.&nbsp; I will explain all those things
+some other time.&nbsp; At this moment all I can think of is my father
+and the danger he is in.&nbsp; If it had not been for Barlasch, he would
+have been in prison by now.&nbsp; And as it is, the danger is only half
+averted.&nbsp; For he, himself, is so little help.&nbsp; All must be
+done for him.&nbsp; He will do nothing for himself while this humour
+is upon him; you understand?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Partly,&rdquo; he answered slowly.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh!&rdquo; she exclaimed half-impatiently, &ldquo;one sees
+that you are an Englishman.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>And she found time, even in her hurry, to laugh.&nbsp; For she was
+young enough to float buoyant upon that sea of hope which ebbs in the
+course of years and leaves men stranded on the hard facts of life.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You forget,&rdquo; he said in self-defence.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I forget what?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That a week ago I had never seen Dantzig, or your father,
+or your sister, or the Frauengasse.&nbsp; A week ago I did not know
+that there was anybody called Sebastian in the world&mdash;and did not
+care.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; she admitted thoughtfully, &ldquo;I had forgotten
+that.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>And they walked on in silence, a long way, till they came to the
+Gate of the Holy Ghost.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But you can help him to escape?&rdquo; she said at length,
+as if following the course of her own thoughts.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; he answered, and that was all.</p>
+<p>They passed through the smaller streets in silence, and D&eacute;sir&eacute;e
+led the way into a narrow alley running between the street of the Holy
+Ghost and the Frauengasse.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;There is the wall to be climbed,&rdquo; she said; but, as
+she spoke, the door giving exit to the alley was cautiously opened by
+Barlasch.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;A little oil,&rdquo; he whispered, &ldquo;and it was soon
+done.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The yard was dark within, for there might be watchers at any of the
+windows above them in the pointed gables that made patterns against
+the star-lit sky.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;All is well,&rdquo; said Barlasch; &ldquo;those sons of dogs
+have not returned, and the patron is waiting in the kitchen, cloaked
+and ready for a journey.&nbsp; He has collected himself&mdash;the patron.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He led the way through his own room, which was dark, save for a shaft
+of lamp-light coming from the kitchen.&nbsp; He looked back keenly at
+Louis d&rsquo;Arragon.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Salut!&rdquo; he growled, scowling at his boots.&nbsp; &ldquo;A
+sailor,&rdquo; he muttered after a pause.&nbsp; &ldquo;Good.&nbsp; She
+has her wits at the top of the basket&mdash;that child.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>D&eacute;sir&eacute;e was throwing back her hood and looking at her
+father with a reassuring smile.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I have brought Monsieur d&rsquo;Arragon,&rdquo; she said,
+&ldquo;to help us.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>For Sebastian has not recognized the new-comer.&nbsp; He now bowed
+in his stiff way, and began a formal apology, which D&rsquo;Arragon
+cut short with a quick gesture.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It is the least I could do,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;in the
+absence of Charles.&nbsp; Have you money?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes&mdash;a little.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You will require money and a few clothes.&nbsp; I can get
+you a passage to Riga or to Helsingborg to-night.&nbsp; From there you
+can communicate with your daughter.&nbsp; Events will follow each other
+rapidly.&nbsp; One never knows what a week may bring forth in time of
+war.&nbsp; It may be safe for you to return soon.&nbsp; Come, monsieur,
+we must go.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Sebastian made a gesture with his outspread arms, half of protestation,
+half of acquiescence.&nbsp; It was plain that he had no sympathy with
+these modern, hurried methods of meeting the emergencies of daily life.&nbsp;
+A valise, packed and strapped, lay on the table.&nbsp; D&rsquo;Arragon
+weighed it in his hand, and then lifted it to his shoulder.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Come, monsieur,&rdquo; he repeated leading the way through
+Barlasch&rsquo;s room to the yard.&nbsp; &ldquo;And you,&rdquo; he added,
+addressing himself to that soldier, &ldquo;shut the door behind us.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>With another gesture of protest Sebastian gathered his cloak round
+him and followed.&nbsp; D&rsquo;Arragon had taken D&eacute;sir&eacute;e
+so literally at her word that he allowed her father no time for hesitation,
+nor a moment to say farewell.</p>
+<p>She was alone in the kitchen before she had realized that they were
+going.&nbsp; In a minute Barlasch returned.&nbsp; She could hear him
+setting in order the room which had been hurriedly disorganized in order
+to open the door leading to the yard, where her father had concealed
+himself.&nbsp; He was muttering to himself as he lifted the furniture.</p>
+<p>Coming back into the kitchen, he found D&eacute;sir&eacute;e standing
+where he had left her.&nbsp; Glancing at her, he scratched his grey
+head in a plebeian way, and gave a little laugh.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; he said, pointing to the spot where D&rsquo;Arragon
+had stood.&nbsp; &ldquo;That was a man, that you fetched to help us&mdash;a
+man.&nbsp; It makes a difference when such as that goes out of the room&mdash;eh?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He busied himself in the kitchen, setting in order that which remained
+of the <i>mise en sc&egrave;ne</i> of his violent reception of the secret
+police.&nbsp; Suddenly he turned in his emphatic manner, and threw out
+his rugged forefinger to hold her attention.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;If there had been some like that in Paris, there would have
+been no Revolution.&nbsp; Za-za, za-za!&rdquo; he concluded, imitating
+effectively the buzz of many voices in an assembly.&nbsp; &ldquo;Words
+and not deeds,&rdquo; Barlasch protested.&nbsp; Whereas to-night, he
+clearly showed by two gestures, they had met a man of deeds.</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<h2>CHAPTER X.&nbsp; IN DEEP WATER.</h2>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<i>Le coeur humain est un ab&icirc;me
+qui trompe tous les calculs.</i></p>
+<p>It is to be presumed that Colonel de Casimir met friends at the reception
+given by Governor Rapp in the great rooms of the Rathhaus.&nbsp; For
+there were many Poles present, and not a few officers of other nationalities.</p>
+<p>The army indeed that set forth to conquer Russia was not a French-speaking
+army.&nbsp; Less than half of the regiments were of that nationality,
+while Italians, Bavarians, Saxons, W&uuml;rtembergers, Westphalians,
+Prussians, Swiss, and Portuguese went gaily forward on the great venture.&nbsp;
+There were soldiers from the numerous petty states of the German Confederation
+which acknowledged Napoleon as their protector, for the good reason
+that they could not protect themselves against him.&nbsp; Finally, there
+were those Poles who had fought in Spain for Napoleon, hoping that in
+return he would some day set the ancient kingdom upon its feet among
+the nations.&nbsp; Already the whisperers pointed to Davoust as the
+future king of the new Poland.</p>
+<p>Many present at the farewell reception of the Governor carried a
+sword, though they were the merest civilians, plotting, counter-plotting,
+and whispering a hundred rumours.&nbsp; Perhaps Rapp himself, speaking
+bluff French with a German accent, was as honest as any man in the room,
+though he lacked the polish of the Parisian and had not the subtlety
+of the Pole.&nbsp; Rapp was not a shining light in these brilliant circles.&nbsp;
+He was a Governor not for peace, but for war.&nbsp; His day was yet
+to come.</p>
+<p>Such men as de Casimir shrugged their supple shoulders at his simple
+talk.&nbsp; They spoke of him half-contemptuously as of one who had
+had a thousand chances and had never taken them.&nbsp; He was not even
+rich, and he had handled great sums of money.&nbsp; He was only a General,
+and he had slept in the Emperor&rsquo;s tent&mdash;had had access to
+him in every humour.&nbsp; He might do the same again in the coming
+campaign.&nbsp; He was worth cultivating.&nbsp; De Casimir and his like
+were full of smiles which in no wise deceived the shrewd Alsatian.</p>
+<p>Mathilde Sebastian was among the ladies to whom these brilliant warriors
+paid their uncouth compliments.&nbsp; Perhaps de Casimir was aware that
+her measuring eyes followed him wherever he went.&nbsp; He knew, at
+all events, that he could hold his own amid these adventurers, many
+of whom had risen from the ranks; while others, from remote northern
+States, had birth but no manners at all.&nbsp; He was easy and gay,
+carrying lightly that subtle air of distinction which is vouchsafed
+to many Poles.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Here to-day, Mademoiselle, and gone to-morrow,&rdquo; he said.&nbsp;
+&ldquo;All these eager soldiers.&nbsp; And who can tell which of us
+may return?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>If he had expected Mathilde to flinch at this reminder of his calling,
+he was disappointed.&nbsp; Her eyes were hard and bright.&nbsp; She
+had had so few chances of moving amidst this splendour, of seeing close
+at hand the greatness which Napoleon shed around him as the sun its
+rays.&nbsp; She was carried away by the spirit of the age.&nbsp; Anything
+was better, she felt, than obscurity.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And who can tell,&rdquo; whispered de Casimir with a careless
+and confident laugh, &ldquo;which of us shall come back rich and great?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>This brought the glance from her dark eyes for which his own lay
+waiting.&nbsp; She was certainly beautiful, and wore the difficult dress
+of that day with assurance and grace.&nbsp; She possessed something
+which the German ladies about her lacked; something which many suddenly
+lack when a Frenchwoman is near.</p>
+<p>His manner, half respectful, half triumphant, betrayed an understanding
+to which he did not refer in words.&nbsp; She had bestowed some favour
+upon him&mdash;had acceded to some request.&nbsp; He hoped for more.&nbsp;
+He had overstepped some barrier.&nbsp; She, who should have measured
+the distance, had allowed him to come too close.&nbsp; The barriers
+of love are one-sided; there is no climbing back.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;A hundred envious eyes are watching me,&rdquo; he said in
+an undertone as he passed on; &ldquo;I dare not stay longer.&nbsp; I
+am on duty to-night.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She bowed and watched him go.&nbsp; She was, it would seem, aware
+of that fallen barrier.&nbsp; She had done nothing, had permitted nothing
+from weakness.&nbsp; There was no weakness at all perhaps in Mathilde
+Sebastian.&nbsp; She had the quiet manner of a skilled card-player with
+folded cards laid face down upon the table, who knows what is in her
+hand and is waiting for the foe to lead.</p>
+<p>De Casimir did not see her again.&nbsp; In such a throng it would
+have been difficult to find her had he so desired.&nbsp; But, as he
+had told her, he was on duty to-night.&nbsp; There were to be a hundred
+arrests before dawn.&nbsp; Many who were laughing and talking with the
+French officers to-night were already in the grasp of Napoleon&rsquo;s
+secret police, and would drive straight from the door of the Rathhaus
+to the town prison or to the old Watch-house in the Portchaisengasse.&nbsp;
+Others, moving through the great rooms with a high head, were already
+condemned out of their own bureaux and escritoires now being rifled
+by the Emperor&rsquo;s spies.</p>
+<p>The Emperor himself had given the order, before quitting Dantzig
+to take command of the maddest and greatest enterprise conceived by
+the mind of man.&nbsp; There was nothing above the reach of his mind,
+it seemed, and nothing too low for him to bend down and touch.&nbsp;
+Every detail had been considered by himself.&nbsp; He was like a man
+who, having an open wound on his back, attends to it hurriedly before
+showing an undaunted face to the enemy.</p>
+<p>His inexorable finger had come down on the name of Antoine Sebastian,
+figuring on all the secret reports&mdash;first in many.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Who is this man?&rdquo; he asked, and none could answer.</p>
+<p>He had gone to the frontier without awaiting the solution to the
+question.&nbsp; Such was his method now.&nbsp; He had so much to do
+that he could but skim the surface of his task.&nbsp; For the human
+mind, though it be colossal, can only work within certain limits.&nbsp;
+The greatest orator in the world can only move his immediate hearers.&nbsp;
+Those beyond the inner circle catch a word here and there, and imagination
+supplies the rest or improves upon it.&nbsp; But those in the farthest
+gallery hear nothing and see a little man gesticulating.</p>
+<p>De Casimir was not entrusted with the execution of the Emperor&rsquo;s
+orders.&nbsp; As a member of General Rapp&rsquo;s staff, resident in
+Dantzig since the city&rsquo;s occupation by the French, he had been
+called upon to make exhaustive reports upon the feeling of the burghers.&nbsp;
+There were many doubtful cases.&nbsp; De Casimir did not pretend to
+be better than his fellows.&nbsp; To some he had sold the benefit of
+the doubt.&nbsp; Some had paid willingly enough for their warning.&nbsp;
+Others had put off the payment; for there were many Jews, then as now,
+in Dantzig; slow payers requiring something stronger than a threat to
+make them disburse.</p>
+<p>De Casimir therefore quitted the Rathhaus among the first to go,
+and walked through the busy streets to his rooms in the Langenmarkt,
+where he not only lived but had a small office to which orderlies and
+aides-de-camp came by day or night.&nbsp; Two sentries kept guard on
+the pavement.&nbsp; Since the spring, this office had been one of the
+busiest military posts in Dantzig.&nbsp; Its doors were open at all
+hours, and in truth many of de Casimir&rsquo;s assistants preferred
+to transact their business in the dark.</p>
+<p>There might be some recalcitrant debtor driven by stress of circumstance
+to clear his conscience to-night.&nbsp; It would be as well, de Casimir
+thought, to be at one&rsquo;s post.&nbsp; Nor was he mistaken.&nbsp;
+Though it was only ten o&rsquo;clock, two men were awaiting his return,
+and, their business despatched, de Casimir deemed it wise to send away
+his assistants.&nbsp; Immediately after they had gone a woman came.&nbsp;
+She was half distracted with fear, and the tears ran down her pallid
+cheeks.&nbsp; But she dried them at the mention of de Casimir&rsquo;s
+price, and fell to abusing him.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;If your husband is innocent, there is all the more reason
+why he should be grateful to me for warning him,&rdquo; he said, with
+a smile.&nbsp; And at last the lady paid and went away.</p>
+<p>The town clocks had struck eleven before another footstep on the
+pavement made de Casimir raise his head.&nbsp; He did not actually expect
+any one, but a certain surreptitiousness in the approach of this visitor,
+and the low knock on the door, made him suspect that this was grist
+for his mill.</p>
+<p>He opened the door and, seeing that it was a woman, stepped back.&nbsp;
+When she had entered, he closed the door while she stood watching him
+in the dark passage, beneath the shadow of her hood.&nbsp; Knowing the
+value of such small details, he locked the door rather ostentatiously
+and dropped the key into his pocket.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And now, madame,&rdquo; he said reassuringly, as he followed
+his visitor into the room where a shaded lamp lighted his writing-table.&nbsp;
+She threw back her hood, and it was Mathilde!&nbsp; The surprise on
+de Casimir&rsquo;s face was genuine enough.&nbsp; Romance could not
+have brought about this visit, nor love be its motive.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Something has happened,&rdquo; he said, looking at her doubtfully.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Where is my father?&rdquo; was the reply.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Unless there has been some mistake,&rdquo; he answered glibly,
+&ldquo;he is at home in bed.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She smiled contemptuously into his innocent face.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;There has been a mistake,&rdquo; she said; &ldquo;they came
+to arrest him to-night.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>De Casimir made a gesture of anger and seemed to be mentally assigning
+a punishment to some blunderer.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And?&rdquo; he asked, without looking at her.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And he escaped.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;For the moment?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No; he has left Dantzig.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Something in her voice&mdash;the cold note of warning&mdash;made
+him glance uneasily at her.&nbsp; This was not a woman to be deceived,
+and yet she was womanly enough to fear deception and to resent her own
+fears, visiting her anger on any who aroused them.&nbsp; In the flash
+of an eye he understood her, and forestalled the words that were upon
+her lips.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And I promised that he should come to no harm&mdash;I know
+that,&rdquo; he said quickly.&nbsp; &ldquo;At first I thought that it
+must have been a blunder, but on reflection I am sure that it is not.&nbsp;
+It is the Emperor.&nbsp; He must have given the order for the arrest
+himself, behind my back.&nbsp; That is his way.&nbsp; He trusts no one.&nbsp;
+He deceives those nearest to him.&nbsp; I made out the list of those
+to be arrested to-night, and your father&rsquo;s name was not on it.&nbsp;
+Do you believe me?&nbsp; Mademoiselle, do you believe me?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>It was only natural in such a man to look for disbelief.&nbsp; The
+air he breathed was infected by suspicion.&nbsp; No deception was too
+small for the great man whom he served.&nbsp; Mathilde made no answer.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You came here to accuse me of having deceived you,&rdquo;
+he said rather anxiously.&nbsp; &ldquo;Is that it?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She nodded without meeting his eyes.&nbsp; It was not the truth.&nbsp;
+She had come to hear his defence, hoping against hope that she might
+be able to believe him.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Mathilde,&rdquo; he asked slowly, &ldquo;do you believe me?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He came a step nearer, looking down at her averted face, which was
+oddly white.&nbsp; Then suddenly she turned, without a sound, without
+lifting her eyes&mdash;and was in his arms.&nbsp; It seemed that she
+had done it against her will, and it took him by surprise.&nbsp; He
+had thought that she was trying to attract his love because she believed
+in his capability to make his fortune like so many soldiers of France;
+that she was only playing a woman&rsquo;s subtle game.&nbsp; And, after
+all, she was like the rest&mdash;a little cleverer, a little colder&mdash;but,
+like the rest.</p>
+<p>While his arms were still round her, his quick mind leapt forward
+to the future, wondering already to what end this would lead them.&nbsp;
+For a moment he was taken aback.&nbsp; He was over the last of those
+barriers which are so easy from the outside and unclimbable from within.&nbsp;
+She had thrust into his hands a power greater than, for the moment,
+he knew how to wield.&nbsp; It was characteristic of him to think first
+whither it would lead him, and next how he could turn it to good account.</p>
+<p>Some instinct told him that this was a different love from any that
+he had met before.&nbsp; The same instinct made him understand that
+it was crying aloud to be convinced; and, oddly enough, he had told
+her the truth.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;See,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;here is a copy of the list, and
+your father&rsquo;s name is not on it.&nbsp; See, here is Napoleon&rsquo;s
+letter, expressing satisfaction with my work here and in K&ouml;nigsberg,
+where I have been served by an agent of my own choosing.&nbsp; Many
+have climbed to a throne with less than that letter for their first
+step.&nbsp; See . . . !&rdquo; he opened another drawer.&nbsp; It was
+full of money.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;See, again!&rdquo; he said with a low laugh, and from an iron
+chest he took two or three bags which fell upon the table with the discreet
+unmistakable chink of gold.&nbsp; &ldquo;That is the Emperor&rsquo;s.&nbsp;
+He trusts me, you see.&nbsp; These bags are mine.&nbsp; They are to
+be sent back to France before I follow the army to Russia.&nbsp; What
+I have told you is true, you see.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>It was an odd way of wooing, but this man rarely made a mistake.&nbsp;
+There are many women who, like Mathilde Sebastian, are readier to love
+success than console failure.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;See,&rdquo; he said, after a moment&rsquo;s hesitation, opening
+another drawer in his writing-table, &ldquo;before I went away I had
+intended to ask you to remember me.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>As he spoke he drew a jewel-case from under some papers, and slowly
+opened it.&nbsp; He had others like it in the drawer; for emergencies.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But I never hoped,&rdquo; he went on, &ldquo;to have an opportunity
+of seeing you thus alone&mdash;to ask you never to forget me.&nbsp;
+You permit me?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He clasped the diamonds round her throat, and they glittered on the
+poor, cheap dress, which was the best she had.&nbsp; She looked down
+at them with a catching breath, and for an instant the glitter was reflected
+in her eyes.</p>
+<p>She had come asking for reassurance, and he gave her diamonds; which
+is an old tale told over and over again.&nbsp; For in human love we
+have to accept not what we want, but what is given to us.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No one in Dantzig,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;is so glad to hear
+that your father has escaped as I am.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>And, with the glitter still lurking in her dark-grey eyes, she believed
+him.&nbsp; He drew her cloak round her, and gently brought her hood
+over her hair.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I must take you home,&rdquo; he said tenderly, &ldquo;without
+delay.&nbsp; And as we go through the streets you must tell me how it
+happened, and how you were able to come to me.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;D&eacute;sir&eacute;e was not asleep,&rdquo; she answered;
+&ldquo;she was waiting for me to return, and told me at once.&nbsp;
+Then she went to bed, and I waited until she was asleep.&nbsp; It was
+she who managed the escape.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>De Casimir, who was locking the drawers of his writing-table, glanced
+up sharply.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ah! but not alone?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No&mdash;not alone.&nbsp; I will tell you as we go through
+the streets.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<h2>CHAPTER XI.&nbsp; THE WAVE MOVES ON.</h2>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<i>La m&ecirc;me fermet&eacute; qui
+sert &agrave; r&eacute;sister &agrave; l&rsquo;amour sert aussi &agrave;
+le rendre violent et durable.</i></p>
+<p>It is only in war that the unexpected admittedly happens.&nbsp; In
+love and other domestic calamities there is always a relative who knew
+it all the time.</p>
+<p>The news that Napoleon was in Vilna, hastily evacuated by the Russians
+in full retreat, came as a surprise and not to all as a pleasant one,
+in Dantzig.</p>
+<p>It was Papa Barlasch who brought the tidings to the Frauengasse,
+one hot afternoon in July.&nbsp; He returned before his usual hour,
+and sent Lisa upstairs, with a message given in dumb show and interpreted
+by her into matter-of-fact German, that he must see the young ladies
+without delay.&nbsp; Far back in the great days of the monarchy, Papa
+Barlasch must have been a little child in a peasant&rsquo;s hut on those
+C&ocirc;tes du Nord where they breed a race of Frenchmen startlingly
+similar to the hereditary foe across the Channel, where to this day
+the men kick off their sabots at the door and hold that an honest labourer
+has no business under a roof except in stocking-feet and shirt-sleeves.</p>
+<p>Barlasch had never yet been upstairs in the Sebastians&rsquo; house,
+and deemed it only respectful to the ladies to take off his boots on
+the mat, and prowl to the kitchen in coarse blue woollen stockings,
+carefully darned by himself, under the scornful immediate eye of Lisa.</p>
+<p>He was in the kitchen when Mathilde and D&eacute;sir&eacute;e, in
+obedience to his command, came downstairs.&nbsp; The floor in one corner
+of the room was littered with his belongings; for he never used the
+table.&nbsp; &ldquo;He takes up no more room than a cat,&rdquo; Lisa
+once said of him.&nbsp; &ldquo;I never fall over him.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;She leaves her greasy plates here and there,&rdquo; explained
+Barlasch in return.&nbsp; &ldquo;One must think of one&rsquo;s self
+and one&rsquo;s uniform.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He was in his stocking-feet with unbuttoned tunic when the two girls
+came to him.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;A&iuml;, a&iuml;, a&iuml;,&rdquo; he said, imitating with
+his two hands the galloping of a horse.&nbsp; &ldquo;The Russians,&rdquo;
+he explained confidentially.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Has there been a battle?&rdquo; asked D&eacute;sir&eacute;e.</p>
+<p>And Barlasch answered &ldquo;Pooh!&rdquo; not without contempt for
+the female understanding.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Then what is it?&rdquo; she inquired.&nbsp; &ldquo;You must
+remember we are not soldiers&mdash;we do not understand those man&oelig;uvres&mdash;a&iuml;,
+a&iuml;, like that.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>And she copied his gesture beneath his scowling contempt.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It is Vilna,&rdquo; he said.&nbsp; &ldquo;That is what it
+is.&nbsp; Then it will be Smolensk, and then Moscow.&nbsp; Ah, ah!&nbsp;
+That little man!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He turned and took up his haversack.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And I&mdash;I have my route.&nbsp; It is good-bye to the Frauengasse.&nbsp;
+We have been friends.&nbsp; I told you we should be.&nbsp; It is good-bye
+to these ladies&mdash;and to that Lisa.&nbsp; Look at her!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He pointed with his curved and derisive finger into Lisa&rsquo;s
+eyes.&nbsp; And in truth the tears were there.&nbsp; Lisa was in heart
+and person that which is comprehensively called motherly.&nbsp; She
+saw perhaps some pathos in the sight of this rugged man&mdash;worn by
+travel, bent with hardship and many wounds, past his work&mdash;shouldering
+his haversack and trudging off to the war.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The wave moves on,&rdquo; he said, making a gesture, and a
+sound illustrating that watery progress.&nbsp; &ldquo;And Dantzig will
+soon be forgotten.&nbsp; You will be left in peace&mdash;but we go on
+to&mdash;&rdquo;&nbsp; He paused and shrugged his shoulders while attending
+to a strap.&nbsp; &ldquo;India or the devil,&rdquo; he concluded.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Colonel Casimir has gone,&rdquo; he added in what he took
+to be an aside to Mathilde.&nbsp; Which made her wonder for a moment.&nbsp;
+&ldquo;I saw him depart with his staff soon after daybreak.&nbsp; And
+the Emperor has forgotten Dantzig.&nbsp; It is safe enough for the patron
+now.&nbsp; You can write him a letter to tell him so.&nbsp; Tell him
+that I said it was safe for him to return quietly here, and live in
+the Frauengasse&mdash;I, Barlasch.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He was ready now, and, buttoning his tunic, he fixed the straps across
+his chest, looking from one to the other of the three women watching
+him, not without some appreciation of an audience.&nbsp; Then he turned
+to D&eacute;sir&eacute;e, who had always been his friend, with whom
+he now considered that he had the soldier&rsquo;s bond of a peril passed
+through together.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The Emperor has forgotten Dantzig,&rdquo; he repeated, &ldquo;and
+those against whom he had a grudge.&nbsp; But he has also forgotten
+those who are in prison.&nbsp; It is not good to be forgotten in prison.&nbsp;
+Tell the patron that&mdash;to put it in his pipe and smoke it.&nbsp;
+Some day he may remember an old soldier.&nbsp; Ah, one thinks of one&rsquo;s
+self.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>And beneath his bushy brows he looked at her with a gleam of cunning.&nbsp;
+He went to the door and, turning there, pointed the finger of scorn
+at Lisa, stout and tearful.&nbsp; He gave a short laugh of a low-born
+contempt, and departed without further parley.</p>
+<p>On the doorstep he paused to put on his boots and button his gaiters,
+stooping clumsily with a groan beneath his burden of haversack and kit.&nbsp;
+D&eacute;sir&eacute;e, who had had time to go upstairs to her bedroom,
+ran after him as he descended the steps.&nbsp; She had her purse in
+her hand, and she thrust it into his, quickly and breathlessly.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;If you take it,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;I shall know that
+we are friends.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He took it ungraciously enough.&nbsp; It was a silken thing with
+two small rings to keep the money in place, and he looked at it with
+a grimace, weighing it in his hand.&nbsp; It was very light.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Money,&rdquo; he said.&nbsp; &ldquo;No, thank you.&nbsp; To
+get drink with, and be degraded and sent to prison.&nbsp; Not for me,
+madame.&nbsp; No, thank you.&nbsp; One thinks of one&rsquo;s career.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>And with a gruff laugh of worldly wisdom he continued his way down
+the worn steps, never looking back at her as she stood in the sunlight
+watching him, with the purse in her hand.</p>
+<p>So in his old age Papa Barlasch was borne forward to the war on that
+human tide which flooded all Lithuania, and never ebbed again, but sank
+into the barren ground, and was no more seen.</p>
+<p>As the slow autumn approached, it became apparent that Dantzig no
+longer interested the watchers.&nbsp; Vilna became the base of operations.&nbsp;
+Smolensk fell, and, most wonderful of all, the Russians were retiring
+on Moscow.&nbsp; Dantzig was no longer on the route.&nbsp; For a time
+it was of the world forgotten, while, as Barlasch had predicted, free
+men continued at liberty, though their names had an evil savour, while
+innocent persons in prison were left to rot there.</p>
+<p>D&eacute;sir&eacute;e continued to receive letters from her husband,
+full of love and war.&nbsp; For a long time he lingered at K&ouml;nigsberg,
+hoping every day to be sent forward.&nbsp; Then he followed Murat across
+the Niemen, and wrote of weary journeys over the rolling plains of Lithuania.</p>
+<p>Towards the end of July he mentioned curtly the arrival of de Casimir
+at head-quarters.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;With him came a courier,&rdquo; wrote Charles, &ldquo;bringing
+your dead letter.&nbsp; I don&rsquo;t believe you love me as I love
+you.&nbsp; At all events, you do not seem to tell me that you do so
+often as I want to tell you.&nbsp; Tell me what you do and think every
+moment of the day . . . . . . &rdquo;&nbsp; And so on.&nbsp; Charles
+seemed to write as easily as he talked, and had no difficulty in setting
+forth his feelings.&nbsp; &ldquo;The courier is in the saddle,&rdquo;
+he concluded.&nbsp; &ldquo;De Casimir tells me that I must finish.&nbsp;
+Write and tell me everything.&nbsp; How is Mathilde?&nbsp; And your
+father?&nbsp; Is he in good health?&nbsp; How does he pass his day?&nbsp;
+Does he still go out in the evening to his cafe?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>This seemed to be an afterthought, suggested perhaps by conversation
+passing in the room in which he sat.</p>
+<p>The other exile, writing from Stockholm, was briefer in his communications.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I am well,&rdquo; wrote Antoine Sebastian, &ldquo;and hope
+to arrive soon after you receive this.&nbsp; Felix Meyer, the notary,
+has instructions to furnish you with money for household expenses.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>It would appear that Sebastian possessed other friends in Dantzig,
+who had kept him advised of all that passed in the city.</p>
+<p>For neither Mathilde nor D&eacute;sir&eacute;e had obeyed Barlasch&rsquo;s
+blunt order to write to their father.&nbsp; They did not know whither
+he had fled, neither had they received any communication giving an address
+or a hint as to his future movements.&nbsp; It would appear that the
+same direct and laconic mind which had carried out his escape deemed
+it wiser that those left behind should be in no position to furnish
+information.</p>
+<p>In fairness to Barlasch, D&eacute;sir&eacute;e had made little of
+that soldier&rsquo;s part in Sebastian&rsquo;s evasion, and Mathilde
+displayed small interest in such details.&nbsp; She rather fastened,
+however, upon the assistance rendered by Louis d&rsquo;Arragon.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Why did he do it?&rdquo; she asked.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, because I asked him,&rdquo; was the reply.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And why did you ask him?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Who else was there to ask?&rdquo; returned D&eacute;sir&eacute;e,
+which was indeed unanswerable.</p>
+<p>Perhaps the question had been suggested to her by de Casimir, who,
+on learning that Louis d&rsquo;Arragon had helped her father to slip
+through the Emperor&rsquo;s fingers, had asked the same in his own characteristic
+way.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What could he hope to gain by doing it?&rdquo; he had inquired
+as he walked by Mathilde&rsquo;s side, along the Pfaffengasse.&nbsp;
+And he made other interrogations respecting D&rsquo;Arragon which Mathilde
+was no more able to satisfy, as he accompanied her to the Frauengasse.</p>
+<p>Since that time the dancing-lessons had been resumed to the music
+of a hired fiddler, and D&eacute;sir&eacute;e had once more taken up
+her household task of making both ends meet.&nbsp; She approached the
+difficulties as impetuously as ever, and danced the stout pupils round
+the room with undiminished energy.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It seems no good at all, your being married,&rdquo; said one
+of these breathlessly, while D&eacute;sir&eacute;e laughingly attended
+to her dishevelled hair.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Why not?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Because you still make your own dresses and teach dancing,&rdquo;
+replied the pupil, with a quick sigh at the thought of some smart bursch
+in the Prussian contingent.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ah, but Charles will return a colonel, and I shall bow to
+you in a silk dress from a chaise and pair&mdash;come, left foot first.&nbsp;
+You are not so tired as you think you are.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>For those that are busy, time flies quickly enough.&nbsp; And there
+is nothing more absorbing than keeping the wolf from the door, else
+assuredly the hungry thousands would find time to arise and rend the
+overfed few.</p>
+<p>August succeeded a hot July and brought with it Sebastian&rsquo;s
+curt letter.&nbsp; Sebastian himself&mdash;that shadowy father&mdash;returned
+to his home a few hours later.&nbsp; He was not alone, for a heavier
+step followed his into the passage, and D&eacute;sir&eacute;e, always
+quick to hear and see and act, coming to the head of the stairs, perceived
+her father looking upwards towards her, while his companion in rough
+sailor&rsquo;s clothes turned to lay aside the valise he had carried
+on his shoulder.</p>
+<p>Mathilde was close behind D&eacute;sir&eacute;e, and Sebastian kissed
+his daughters with that cold repression of manner which always suggested
+a strenuous past in which the emotions had been relinquished for ever
+as an indulgence unfit for a stern and hard-bitten age.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I took him away and now return him,&rdquo; said the sailor
+coming forward.&nbsp; D&eacute;sir&eacute;e had always known that it
+was Louis, but Mathilde gave a little start at the sound of the neat
+clipping French in the mouth of an educated Frenchman so rarely heard
+in Dantzig&mdash;so rarely heard in all broad France to-day.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes&mdash;that is true,&rdquo; answered Sebastian, turning
+to him with a sudden change of manner.&nbsp; There was that in voice
+and attitude which his hearers had never noted before, although Charles
+had often evoked something approaching it.&nbsp; It seemed to indicate
+that, of all the people with whom they had seen their father hold intercourse,
+Louis d&rsquo;Arragon was the only man who stood upon equality with
+him.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That is true&mdash;and at great risk to yourself,&rdquo; he
+said, not assigning, however, so great an importance to personal danger
+as men do in these careful days.&nbsp; As he spoke, he took Louis by
+the arm and by a gesture invited him to precede him upstairs with a
+suggestion of <i>camaraderie</i> somewhat startling in one usually so
+cold and formal as Antoine Sebastian, the dancing-master of the Frauengasse.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I was writing to Charles,&rdquo; said D&eacute;sir&eacute;e
+to D&rsquo;Arragon, when they reached the drawing-room, and, crossing
+to her own table, she set the papers in order there.&nbsp; These consisted
+of a number of letters from her husband, read and re-read, it would
+appear.&nbsp; And the answer to them, a clean sheet of paper bearing
+only the date and address, lay beneath her hand.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The courier leaves this evening,&rdquo; she said, with a queer
+ring of anxiety in her voice, as if she feared that for some reason
+or another she ran the risk of failing to despatch her letter.&nbsp;
+She glanced at the clock, and stood, pen in hand, thinking of what she
+should write.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;May I enclose a line?&rdquo; asked Louis.&nbsp; &ldquo;It
+is not wise, perhaps, for me to address to him a letter&mdash;since
+I am on the other side.&nbsp; It is a small matter of a heritage which
+he and I divide.&nbsp; I have placed some money in a Dantzig bank for
+him.&nbsp; He may require it when he returns.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Then you do not correspond with Charles?&rdquo; said Mathilde,
+clearing a space for him on the larger table, and setting before him
+ink and pens and paper.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Thank you, Mademoiselle,&rdquo; he said, glancing at her with
+that light of interest in his dark eyes which she had ignited once before
+by a question on the only occasion that they had met.&nbsp; He seemed
+to detect that she was more interested in him than her indifferent manner
+would appear to indicate.&nbsp; &ldquo;No, I am a bad correspondent.&nbsp;
+If Charles and I, in our present circumstances, were to write to each
+other it could only lead to intrigue, for which I have no taste and
+Charles no capacity.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You seem to hint that Charles might have such a taste then,&rdquo;
+she said, with her quiet smile, as she moved away leaving him to write.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Charles has probably found out by this time,&rdquo; he answered
+with the bluntness which he claimed as a prerogative of his calling
+and nation, &ldquo;that a soldier of Napoleon&rsquo;s who intrigues
+will make a better career than one who merely fights.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He took up his pen and wrote with the absorption of one who has but
+little time and knows exactly what to say.&nbsp; By chance he glanced
+towards D&eacute;sir&eacute;e, who sat at her own table near the window.&nbsp;
+She was stroking her cheek with the feather of her pen, looking with
+puzzled eyes at the blank paper before her.&nbsp; Each time D&rsquo;Arragon
+dipped his pen he glanced at her, watching her.&nbsp; And Mathilde,
+with her needlework, watched them both.</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<h2>CHAPTER XII.&nbsp; FROM BORODINO.</h2>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<i>However we brave it out, we men
+are a little breed.</i></p>
+<p>War is the gambling of kings.&nbsp; Napoleon, the arch-gambler, from
+that Southern sea where men, lacking cards or dice and the money to
+buy either, will yet play a game of chance with the ten fingers that
+God gave them for another purpose&mdash;Napoleon had dealt a hand with
+every monarch in Europe before he met for the second time that Northern
+adversary of cool blood who knew the waiting game.</p>
+<p>It is only where the stakes are small that the leisurely players,
+idly fingering the fallen cards, return in fancy to certain points&mdash;to
+this trick trumped or that chance missed, playing the game over again.&nbsp;
+But when the result is great it overshadows the game, and all men&rsquo;s
+thoughts fly to speculation on the future.&nbsp; How will the loser
+meet his loss?&nbsp; What use will the winner make of his gain?</p>
+<p>The results of the Russian campaign were so stupendous to history
+that the historians of the day, in their bewilderment, sought rather
+to preserve these than the details of the war.&nbsp; Thus the student
+of to-day, in piecing together an impression of bygone times, will inevitably
+find portions of his picture missing.&nbsp; As a matter of fact, no
+one can say for certain whether Alexander gently led Napoleon onward
+to Moscow or was himself driven thither in confusion by the conqueror.</p>
+<p>Perhaps each merely pushed on from day to day, as men who are not
+Emperors must needs do in the stress of life.&nbsp; It is only in calm
+weather that the eye is able to discern things afar off and make ready;
+but in a storm the horizon is dimmed by cloud and spray.&nbsp; All Europe
+was so obscured at this time.&nbsp; And even Emperors, being only men,
+could look no farther than the immediate and urgent danger of the moment.</p>
+<p>Napoleon&rsquo;s generals were scarcely social lights.&nbsp; Ney,
+the hero of the retreat, the bravest of the brave, was a rough man who
+ate horseflesh without troubling to cook it.&nbsp; Rapp, whose dogged
+defence of an abandoned city is without compare in the story of war,
+had the manners and the mind of a peasant.&nbsp; These gentlemen dealt
+more in deeds than in words.&nbsp; They had not much to say for themselves.</p>
+<p>As for the Russians, Russia remains at this time the one European
+country unhampered and unharassed by a cheap press&mdash;the one country
+where prominent men have a quiet tongue.&nbsp; A hundred years ago Russians
+did great deeds, and the rest was silence.&nbsp; Neither Kutusoff nor
+Alexander ever stated clearly whether the retreat to Moscow was intentional
+or unavoidable; and these are the only men who knew.&nbsp; Perhaps Napoleon
+knew; at all events, he thought he did, or pretended to think it long
+afterwards at St. Helena, for Napoleon the Great was a consummate liar.</p>
+<p>Be that as it may, the Russians retreated, and the French advanced
+farther and farther from their base.&nbsp; It was a great army&mdash;the
+greatest ever seen.&nbsp; For Napoleon had eight monarchs serving with
+the eagles; generals innumerable, many of them immortal&mdash;Davoust,
+the greatest strategist; Prince Eugene, the incomparable lieutenant;
+Ney, the fearless; four hundred thousand men.&nbsp; And they carried
+with them only twenty days&rsquo; provision.</p>
+<p>They had marched from the Vistula, full of shipping, across the Pregel,
+loaded with stores, to the Niemen, where there was no navigation.&nbsp;
+Dantzig, behind them&mdash;that Gibraltar of the North&mdash;was stored
+with provision enough for the whole army.&nbsp; But there was no transport;
+for the roads of Lithuania were unsuitable for the heavy carts provided.</p>
+<p>The country across the Niemen could scarce sustain its own sparse
+population, and had nothing to spare for an invading army.&nbsp; This
+had once been Poland, and was now inimical to Russia; but Russia did
+not care, and the friendship of Lithuania was like many human friendships
+which we make sacrifices to preserve&mdash;not worth having.</p>
+<p>All the while the Russians retreated, and, stranger still, the French
+followed them, eking out their twenty days&rsquo; provision.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I will make them fight a big battle, and beat them,&rdquo;
+said Napoleon; &ldquo;and then the Emperor will sue for peace.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>But Barclay de Tolly continued to run away from that great battle.&nbsp;
+Then came the news that Barclay had been deposed; that Kutusoff was
+coming from the South to take command.&nbsp; It was true enough; and
+Barclay cheerfully served in a subordinate position to the new chief.&nbsp;
+September brought great hopes of a battle, for Kutusoff seemed to retreat
+with less despatch, like a man choosing his ground&mdash;Kutusoff, that
+master of the waiting game.</p>
+<p>Early in September Murat, the impetuous leader of the pursuit, complained
+to Nansouty that a cavalry charge had not been pushed home.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The horses have no patriotism,&rdquo; replied Nansouty.&nbsp;
+&ldquo;The men will fight on empty stomachs, but not the horses.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>An ominous reply at the beginning of a campaign, while communications
+were still open.</p>
+<p>At last, within a few days&rsquo; march of Moscow, Kutusoff made
+a stand.&nbsp; At last the great battle was imminent, after a hundred
+false alarms, after many disappointed hopes.&nbsp; The country had been
+flat hitherto.&nbsp; The Borodino, running in a wider valley than many
+of these rivers, which are merely great ditches, seemed to offer possibilities
+of defence.&nbsp; It was the only hope for Moscow.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;At last,&rdquo; wrote Charles to D&eacute;sir&eacute;e on
+September 6, &ldquo;we are to have a great battle.&nbsp; There has been
+much fighting the last few days, but I have seen none of it.&nbsp; We
+are only eighty miles from Moscow.&nbsp; If there is a great battle
+to-morrow we shall see Moscow in less than a week.&nbsp; For we shall
+win.&nbsp; I have now found out from one who is near him that the Emperor
+saw and remembered me the day he passed us in the Frauengasse&mdash;our
+wedding-day, dearest.&nbsp; Nobody is too insignificant for him to know.&nbsp;
+He thought that my marriage to you (for he knows that you are French)
+would militate against the work I had been given to do in Dantzig, so
+he gave orders for me to be sent at once to K&ouml;nigsberg and to continue
+the work there.&nbsp; De Casimir tells me that the Emperor is pleased
+with me.&nbsp; De Casimir is the best friend I have; I am sure of that.&nbsp;
+It is said that under the walls of Moscow the Emperor will dictate his
+terms to Alexander.&nbsp; Every one wonders that Alexander of Russia
+did not make proposals of peace when Vilna and Smolensk fell.&nbsp;
+In a week we may be at Moscow.&nbsp; In a month I may be back at Dantzig,
+D&eacute;sir&eacute;e . . . . &ldquo;</p>
+<p>And the rest would have been for D&eacute;sir&eacute;e&rsquo;s eyes
+alone, had it ever been penned.&nbsp; For next in sacredness to heaven-inspired
+words are mere human love letters; and those who read the love-letters
+of another commit a sacrilege.&nbsp; But Charles never finished the
+letter, for the dawn surprised him where he wrote in a shed by the miserable
+Kalugha, a streamlet running to the Moskwa.&nbsp; And it was the dawn
+of September 7, 1812.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;There is the sun of Austerlitz,&rdquo; said Napoleon to those
+who were near him when it arose.&nbsp; But it was not.&nbsp; It was
+the sun of Borodino.&nbsp; And before it set the great battle desired
+by the French had been fought, and eight French generals lay dead, while
+thirty more were wounded.&nbsp; Murat, Davoust, Ney, Junot, Prince Eugene,
+Napoleon himself&mdash;all were there; and all fought to finish a war
+which from the first had been disliked.&nbsp; The French claimed it
+as a victory; but they gained nothing by it, and they lost forty thousand
+killed and wounded.</p>
+<p>During the night the Russians evacuated the position which they had
+held, and lost, and retaken.&nbsp; They retreated towards Moscow, but
+Napoleon was hardly ready to pursue.</p>
+<p>These things, however, are history, and those who wish to know of
+them may read them in another volume.&nbsp; While to the many orderly
+persons who would wish to see everything in its place and the history-books
+on the top shelf to be taken down and read on a future day (which will
+never come), to such the explanation is due that this battle of Borodino
+is here touched upon because it changed the current of some lives with
+which we have to deal.</p>
+<p>For battles and revolutions and historical events of any sort are
+the jagged instruments with which Fate rough-hews our lives, leaving
+us to shape them as we will.&nbsp; In other days, no doubt, men rough-hewed,
+while Fate shaped.&nbsp; But as civilization advances men will wax so
+tender, so careful of the individual, that they will never cut and slash,
+but move softly, very tolerant, very easy-going, seeking the compromise
+that brings peace and breeds a small and timid race of men.</p>
+<p>Into such lives Fate comes crashing like a woodman with his axe,
+leaving us to smooth the edges of the gaping wound and smile, and say
+that we are not hurt; to pare away the knots and broken stumps; and
+hope that our neighbour, concealing such himself, will have the decency
+to pretend not to see.</p>
+<p>Thus the battle of Borodino crashed into the lives of D&eacute;sir&eacute;e
+and Mathilde, and their father, living quietly on the sunny side of
+the Frauengasse in Dantzig.&nbsp; Antoine Sebastian was the first to
+hear the news.&nbsp; He had, it seemed, special facilities for learning
+news at the Weissen R&ouml;ss&rsquo;l, whither he went again now in
+the evening.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;There has been a great battle,&rdquo; he said, with so much
+more than his usual self-restraint that D&eacute;sir&eacute;e and Mathilde
+exchanged a glance of anxiety.&nbsp; &ldquo;A man coming this evening
+from Dirschau saw and spoke with the Imperial couriers on their way
+to Berlin and Paris.&nbsp; It was a great victory, quite near to Moscow.&nbsp;
+But the loss on both sides has been terrible.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He paused and glanced at D&eacute;sir&eacute;e.&nbsp; It was his
+creed that good blood should show an example of self-restraint and a
+certain steadfast, indifferent courage.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Not so much among the French,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;as among
+the Bavarians and Italians.&nbsp; It is an odd way of showing patriotism,
+to gain victories for the conqueror.&nbsp; One hoped&mdash;&rdquo; he
+paused and made a gesture with his right hand, scarcely indicative of
+a staunch hope, &ldquo;that the man&rsquo;s star might be setting, but
+it would appear to be still in the ascendant.&nbsp; Charles,&rdquo;
+he added, as an afterthought, &ldquo;would be on the staff.&nbsp; No
+doubt he only saw the fighting from a distance.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>D&eacute;sir&eacute;e, from whose face the colour had faded, nodded
+cheerfully enough.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh yes,&rdquo; she answered, &ldquo;I have no doubt he is
+safe.&nbsp; He has good fortune.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>For she was an apt pupil, and had already learnt that the world only
+wishes to leave us in undisputed possession of our anxieties or sorrows,
+however ready it may be to come forward and take a hand in good fortune.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But there is no definite news,&rdquo; said Mathilde, hardly
+looking up from the needlework at which her fingers were so deft and
+industrious.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No news of Charles, I mean,&rdquo; she continued, &ldquo;or
+of any of our friends.&nbsp; Of Monsieur de Casimir, for instance?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No.&nbsp; As for Colonel de Casimir,&rdquo; returned Sebastian
+thoughtfully, &ldquo;he, like Charles, holds some staff appointment
+of which one does not understand the scope.&nbsp; He is without doubt
+uninjured.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Mathilde glanced at her father not without suspicion.&nbsp; His grand
+manner might easily be at times a screen.&nbsp; One never knows how
+much is perceived by those who look down from a high place.</p>
+<p>The town was quiet enough all that night.&nbsp; Sebastian must have
+heard the news from some unofficial source, for none other seemed to
+know it.&nbsp; But at daybreak the church bells, so rarely used in Dantzig
+for rejoicing, awoke the burghers to the fact that the Emperor bade
+them make merry.&nbsp; Napoleon gave great heed to such matters.&nbsp;
+In the churches of Lithuania and farther on in Russia he had commanded
+the popes to pray for him at their altars instead of for the Czar.</p>
+<p>When D&eacute;sir&eacute;e came downstairs, she found a packet awaiting
+her.&nbsp; The courier had come in during the night.&nbsp; This was
+more than a letter.&nbsp; A number of papers had been folded in a handkerchief
+and bound with string.&nbsp; The address was written on a piece of white
+leather cut from the uniform of one who had fallen at Borodino, and
+had no more need of sabretasche or trapping.</p>
+<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&ldquo;Madame D&eacute;sir&eacute;e
+Darragon&mdash;<i>n&eacute;e</i> Sebastian,<br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Frauengasse
+36,<br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Dantzig.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>D&eacute;sir&eacute;e&rsquo;s heart stood still; for the writing
+was unknown to her.&nbsp; As she cut the network of string, she thought
+that Charles was dead.&nbsp; When the enclosed papers fell upon the
+table, she was sure of it; for they were all in his writing.&nbsp; She
+did not pick and choose as one would who has leisure and no very strong
+excitement, but took up the first paper and read:</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Dear C.&mdash;I have been fortunate, as you will see from
+the enclosed report.&nbsp; His Majesty cannot again say that I have
+been neglectful.&nbsp; I was quite right.&nbsp; It is Sebastian and
+only Sebastian that we need fear.&nbsp; Here, they are clumsy conspirators
+compared to him.&nbsp; I have been in the river half the night, listening
+at the open stern window of a Reval pink to every word they said.&nbsp;
+His Majesty can safely come to K&ouml;nigsberg.&nbsp; Indeed, he is
+better out of Dantzig.&nbsp; For the whole country is riddled with that
+which they call patriotism, and we, treason.&nbsp; But I can only repeat
+what His Majesty disbelieved the day before yesterday&mdash;that the
+heart of the ill is Dantzig, and the venom of it Sebastian.&nbsp; Who
+he really is and what he is about, you must find out how you can.&nbsp;
+I go forward to-day to Gumbinnen.&nbsp; The enclosed letter to its address&mdash;I
+beg of you&mdash;if only in acknowledgment of all that I have sacrificed.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The letter was unsigned, but the writing was the writing of Charles
+Darragon, and D&eacute;sir&eacute;e knew what he had sacrificed&mdash;what
+he could never recover.</p>
+<p>There were two or three more letters addressed to &ldquo;Dear C.,&rdquo;
+bearing no signature, and yet written by Charles.&nbsp; D&eacute;sir&eacute;e
+read them carefully with a sort of numb attention which photographed
+them permanently on her memory like writing that is carved in stone
+upon a wall.&nbsp; There must be some explanation in one of them.&nbsp;
+Who had sent them to her?&nbsp; Was Charles dead?</p>
+<p>At last she came to a sealed envelope addressed to herself by Charles.&nbsp;
+Some other hand had copied the address from it in identical terms on
+the piece of white leather.&nbsp; She opened and read it.&nbsp; It was
+the letter written to her by Charles on the bank of the Kalugha river
+on the eve of Borodino, and left unfinished by him.&nbsp; He must be
+dead.&nbsp; She prayed that he might be.</p>
+<p>She was alone in the room, having come down early, as was her wont,
+to prepare breakfast.&nbsp; She heard Lisa talking with some one at
+the door&mdash;a messenger, no doubt, to say that Charles was dead.</p>
+<p>One letter still remained unread.&nbsp; It was in a different writing&mdash;the
+writing on the white leather.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Madame,&rdquo; it read, &ldquo;The enclosed papers were found
+on the field by one of my orderlies.&nbsp; One of them being addressed
+to you, furnishes a clue to their owner, who must have dropped them
+in the hurry of the advance.&nbsp; Should Captain Charles Darragon be
+your husband, I have the pleasure to inform you that he was seen alive
+and well at the end of the day.&rdquo;&nbsp; The writer assured D&eacute;sir&eacute;e
+of his respectful consideration, and wrote &ldquo;Surgeon&rdquo; after
+his name.</p>
+<p>D&eacute;sir&eacute;e had read the explanation too late.</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<h2>CHAPTER XIII.&nbsp; IN THE DAY OF REJOICING.</h2>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<i>Truth, though it crush me</i>.</p>
+<p>The door of the room stood open, and the sound of a step in the passage
+made D&eacute;sir&eacute;e glance up, as she hastily put together the
+papers found on the battlefield of Borodino.</p>
+<p>Louis d&rsquo;Arragon was coming into the room, and for an instant,
+before his expression changed, she saw all the fatigue that he must
+have endured during the night; all that he must have risked.&nbsp; His
+face was usually still and quiet; a combination of that contemplative
+calm which characterises seafaring faces, and the clean-cut immobility
+of a racial type developed by hereditary duties of self-restraint and
+command.</p>
+<p>He knew that there had been a battle, and, seeing the papers on the
+table, his eyes asked her the inevitable question which his lips were
+slow to put into words.</p>
+<p>In reply D&eacute;sir&eacute;e shook her head.&nbsp; She looked at
+the papers in quick thought.&nbsp; Then she withdrew from them the letter
+written to her by Charles&mdash;and put the others together.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You told me to send for you,&rdquo; she said in a quiet, tired
+voice, &ldquo;if I wanted you.&nbsp; You have saved me the trouble.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>His eyes were hard with anxiety as he looked at her.&nbsp; She held
+the letters towards him.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;By coming,&rdquo; she added, with a glance at him which took
+in the dust, and the stains of salt-water on his clothes, the fatigue
+he sought to conceal by a rigid stillness, and the tension that was
+left by the dangers he had passed through&mdash;daring all&mdash;to
+come.</p>
+<p>Seeing that he looked doubtfully at the papers, she spoke again.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;One,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;that one on the stained paper,
+is addressed to me.&nbsp; You can read it&mdash;since I ask you.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The letter told him, at all events, that Charles was not killed,
+and, seeing his face clear as he read, she gave an odd, curt laugh.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Read the others,&rdquo; she said.&nbsp; &ldquo;Oh! you need
+not hesitate.&nbsp; You need not be so particular.&nbsp; Read one, the
+top one.&nbsp; One is enough.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The windows stood open, and the morning breeze fluttering the curtains
+brought in the gay sound of bells, the high clear bells of Hanseatic
+days, rejoicing at Napoleon&rsquo;s new success&mdash;by order of Napoleon.&nbsp;
+A bee sailed harmoniously into the room, made the circuit of it, and
+sought the open again with a hum that faded drowsily into silence.</p>
+<p>D&rsquo;Arragon read the letter slowly from beginning to the unsigned
+end, while D&eacute;sir&eacute;e, sitting at the table, upon which she
+leant one elbow, resting her small square chin in the palm of her hand,
+watched him.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ah?&rdquo; she exclaimed at length, with a ring of contempt
+in her voice, as if at the thought of something unclean.&nbsp; &ldquo;A
+spy!&nbsp; It is so easy for you to keep still, and to hide all you
+feel.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>D&rsquo;Arragon folded the letter slowly.&nbsp; It was the fatal
+letter written in the upper room in the shoemaker&rsquo;s house in K&ouml;nigsberg
+in the Neuer Markt, where the linden trees grow close to the window.&nbsp;
+In it Charles spoke lightly of the sacrifice he had made in leaving
+D&eacute;sir&eacute;e on his wedding-day, to do the Emperor&rsquo;s
+bidding.&nbsp; It was indeed the greatest sacrifice that man can make;
+for he had thrown away his honour.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It may not be so easy as you think,&rdquo; returned D&rsquo;Arragon,
+looking towards the door</p>
+<p>He had no time to say more; for Mathilde and her father were talking
+together on the stairs as they came down.&nbsp; D&rsquo;Arragon thrust
+the letters into his pocket, the only indication he had time to give
+to D&eacute;sir&eacute;e of the policy they must pursue.&nbsp; He stood
+facing the door, alert and quiet, with only a moment in which to shape
+the course of more than one life.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;There is good news, Monsieur,&rdquo; he said to Sebastian.&nbsp;
+&ldquo;Though I did not come to bring it.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Sebastian pointed interrogatively to the open window, where the sound
+of the bells seemed to emphasize the sunlight and the freshness of the
+morning.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No&mdash;not that,&rdquo; returned D&rsquo;Arragon.&nbsp;
+&ldquo;It is a great victory, they tell me; but it is hard to say whether
+such news would be good or bad.&nbsp; It was of Charles that I spoke.&nbsp;
+He is safe&mdash;Madame has heard.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He spoke rather slowly, and turned towards D&eacute;sir&eacute;e
+with a measured gesture, not unlike Sebastian&rsquo;s habitual manner,
+and a quick glance to satisfy himself that she had understood and was
+ready.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said D&eacute;sir&eacute;e, &ldquo;he was safe
+and well after the battle, but he gives no details; for the letter was
+actually written the day before.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;With a mere word, added in postscriptum, to say that he was
+unhurt at the end of the day,&rdquo; suggested Sebastian, already drawing
+forward a chair with a gesture full of hospitality, inviting D&rsquo;Arragon
+to be seated at the simple breakfast-table.&nbsp; But D&rsquo;Arragon
+was looking at Mathilde, who had gone rather hurriedly to the window,
+as if to breathe the air.&nbsp; He had caught a glimpse of her face
+as she passed.&nbsp; It was hard and set, quite colourless, with bright,
+sleepless eyes.&nbsp; D&rsquo;Arragon was a sailor.&nbsp; He had seen
+that look in rougher faces and sterner eyes, and knew what it meant.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No details?&rdquo; asked Mathilde in a muffled voice, without
+looking round.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No,&rdquo; answered D&eacute;sir&eacute;e, who had noticed
+nothing.&nbsp; How much more clearly we should understand what is going
+on around us if we had no secrets of our own to defend!</p>
+<p>In obedience to Sebastian&rsquo;s gesture, D&rsquo;Arragon took a
+chair, and even as he did so Mathilde came to the table, calm and mistress
+of herself again, to pour out the coffee, and do the honours of the
+simple meal.&nbsp; D&rsquo;Arragon, besides having acquired the seamen&rsquo;s
+habit of adapting himself unconsciously and unobtrusively to his surroundings,
+was of a direct mind, lacking self-consciousness, and simplified by
+the pressure of a strong and steady purpose.&nbsp; For men&rsquo;s minds
+are like the atmosphere, which is always cleared by a steady breeze,
+while a changing wind generates vapours, mist, uncertainty.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And what news do you bring from the sea?&rdquo; asked Sebastian.&nbsp;
+&ldquo;Is your sky there as overcast as ours in Dantzig?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No, Monsieur, our sky is clearing,&rdquo; answered D&rsquo;Arragon,
+eating with a hearty appetite the fresh bread and butter set before
+him.&nbsp; &ldquo;Since I saw you, the treaties have been signed, as
+you doubtless know, between Sweden and Russia and England.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Nodding his head with silent emphasis, Sebastian gave it to be understood
+that he knew that and more.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It makes a great difference to us at sea in the Baltic,&rdquo;
+said D&rsquo;Arragon.&nbsp; &ldquo;We are no longer harassed night and
+day, like a dog, hounded from end to end of a hostile street, not daring
+to look into any doorway.&nbsp; The Russian ports and Swedish ports
+are open to us now.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;One is glad to hear that your life is one of less hardship,&rdquo;
+said Sebastian gravely.&nbsp; &ldquo;I . . . . who have tasted it.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>D&eacute;sir&eacute;e glanced at his lean, hard face.&nbsp; She rose,
+went out of the room, and returned in a few minutes carrying a new loaf
+which she set on the table before him with a short laugh, and something
+glistening in her eyes that was not mirth.</p>
+<p>But neither D&eacute;sir&eacute;e nor Mathilde joined in the conversation.&nbsp;
+They were glad for their father to have a companion so sympathetic as
+to produce a marked difference in his manner.&nbsp; For Sebastian was
+more at ease with Louis d&rsquo;Arragon than he was with Charles, though
+the latter had the tie of a common fatherland, and spoke the same French
+that Sebastian spoke.&nbsp; D&rsquo;Arragon&rsquo;s French had the roundness
+always imparted to that language by an English voice.&nbsp; It was perfect
+enough, but of an educated perfection.</p>
+<p>The talk was of such matters as concerned men more than women; of
+armies and war and treaties of peace.&nbsp; For all the world thought
+that Alexander of Russia would be brought to his knees by the battle
+of Borodino.&nbsp; None knew better how to turn a victory to account
+than he who claimed to be victor now.&nbsp; &ldquo;It does not suffice,&rdquo;
+Napoleon wrote to his brother at this time, &ldquo;to gain a victory.&nbsp;
+You must learn to turn it to advantage.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Save for the one reference to his life in the Baltic during the past
+two months, D&rsquo;Arragon said nothing of himself, of his patient,
+dogged work carried on by day and by night in all weathers.&nbsp; Content
+to have escaped with his life, he neither referred to, nor thought of,
+his part in the negotiations which had resulted in the treaty just signed.&nbsp;
+For he had been the link between Russia and England; the never-failing
+messenger passing from one to the other with question and answer which
+were destined to bear fruit at last in an understanding brought to perfection
+in Paris, culminating at Elba.</p>
+<p>Both were guarded in what they said of passing events, and both seemed
+to doubt the truth of the reports now flying through the streets of
+Dantzig.&nbsp; Even in the quiet Frauengasse all the citizens were out
+on their terraces calling questions to those that passed by beneath
+the trees.&nbsp; The itinerant tradesman, the milkman going his round,
+the vendors of fruit from Langfuhr and the distant villages of the plain,
+lingered at the doors to tell the servants the latest gossip of the
+market-place.&nbsp; Even in this frontier city, full of spies, strangers
+spoke together in the streets, and the sound of their voices, raised
+above the clang of carillons, came in at the open window.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;At first a victory is always a great one,&rdquo; said D&rsquo;Arragon,
+looking towards the window.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It is so easy to ring a bell,&rdquo; added Sebastian, with
+his rare smile.</p>
+<p>He was quite himself this morning, and only once did the dull look
+arrest his features into the stony stillness which his daughters knew.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You are the only one of your name in Dantzig,&rdquo; said
+D&rsquo;Arragon, in the course of question and answer as to the safe
+delivery of letters in time of war.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;So far as I know, there is no other Sebastian,&rdquo; replied
+he; and D&eacute;sir&eacute;e, who had guessed the motive of the question,
+which must have been in D&rsquo;Arragon&rsquo;s mind from the beginning,
+was startled by the fulness of the answer.&nbsp; It seemed to make reply
+to more than D&rsquo;Arragon had asked.&nbsp; It shattered the last
+faint hope that there might have been another Sebastian of whom Charles
+had written.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;For myself,&rdquo; said D&rsquo;Arragon, changing the subject
+quickly, &ldquo;I can now make sure of receiving letters addressed to
+me in the care of the English Consul at Riga, or the Consul at Stockholm,
+should you wish to communicate with me, or should Madame find leisure
+to give me news of her husband.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;D&eacute;sir&eacute;e will no doubt take pleasure in keeping
+you advised of Charles&rsquo;s progress.&nbsp; As for myself, I fear
+I am a bad correspondent.&nbsp; Perhaps not a desirable one in these
+days,&rdquo; said Sebastian, his face slowly clearing.&nbsp; He waved
+the point aside with a gesture that looked out of place on a hand lean
+and spare, emerging from a shabby brown sleeve without cuff or ruffle.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;For I feel assured,&rdquo; he went on, &ldquo;that we shall
+continue to hear good news of your cousin; not only that he is safe
+and well, but that he makes progress in his profession.&nbsp; He will
+go far, I am sure.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>D&rsquo;Arragon bowed his acknowledgment of this kind thought, and
+rose rather hastily.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;My best chance of quitting the city unseen,&rdquo; he said,
+&ldquo;is to pass through the gates with the market-people returning
+to the villages.&nbsp; To do that, I must not delay.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The streets are so full,&rdquo; replied Sebastian, glancing
+out of the window, &ldquo;that you will pass through them unnoticed.&nbsp;
+I see beneath the trees, a neighbour, Koch the locksmith, who is perhaps
+waiting to give me news.&nbsp; While you are saying farewell, I will
+go out and speak to him.&nbsp; What he has to tell may interest you
+and your comrades at sea&mdash;may help your escape from the city this
+morning.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He took his hat as he spoke and went to the door.&nbsp; Mathilde,
+thirsting for the news that seemed to hum in the streets like the sound
+of bees, rose and followed him.&nbsp; D&eacute;sir&eacute;e and D&rsquo;Arragon
+were left alone.&nbsp; She had gone to the window, and, turning there,
+she looked back at him over her shoulder, where he stood by the door
+watching her.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;So, you see,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;there is no other Sebastian.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>D&rsquo;Arragon made no reply.&nbsp; She came nearer to him, her
+blue eyes sombre with contempt for the man she had married.&nbsp; Suddenly
+she pointed to the chair which D&rsquo;Arragon had just vacated.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That is where he sat.&nbsp; He has eaten my father&rsquo;s
+salt a hundred times,&rdquo; she said, with a short laugh.&nbsp; For
+whithersoever civilization may take us, we must still go back to certain
+prim&aelig;val laws of justice between man and man.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You judge too hastily,&rdquo; said D&rsquo;Arragon; but she
+interrupted him with a gesture of warning.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I have not judged hastily,&rdquo; she said.&nbsp; &ldquo;You
+do not understand.&nbsp; You think I judge from that letter.&nbsp; That
+is only a confirmation of something that has been in my mind for a long
+time&mdash;ever since my wedding-day.&nbsp; I knew when you came into
+the room upstairs on that day that you did not trust Charles.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&mdash;?&rdquo; he asked.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; she answered, standing squarely in front of him
+and looking him in the eyes.&nbsp; &ldquo;You did not trust him.&nbsp;
+You were not glad that I had married him.&nbsp; I could see it in your
+face.&nbsp; I have never forgotten.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>D&rsquo;Arragon turned away towards the window.&nbsp; Sebastian and
+Mathilde were in the street below, in the shade of the trees, talking
+with the eager neighbours.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You would have stopped it if you could,&rdquo; said D&eacute;sir&eacute;e;
+and he did not deny it.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It was some instinct,&rdquo; he said at length.&nbsp; &ldquo;Some
+passing misgiving.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;For Charles?&rdquo; she asked sharply.</p>
+<p>And D&rsquo;Arragon, looking out of the window, would not answer.&nbsp;
+She gave a sudden laugh.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;One cannot compliment you on your politeness,&rdquo; she said.&nbsp;
+&ldquo;Was it for Charles that you had misgivings?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>At last D&rsquo;Arragon turned on his heel.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Does it matter?&rdquo; he asked.&nbsp; &ldquo;Since I came
+too late.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That is true,&rdquo; she said, after a pause.&nbsp; &ldquo;You
+came too late; so it doesn&rsquo;t matter.&nbsp; And the thing is done
+now, and I . . . , well, I suppose I must do what others have done before
+me&mdash;I must make the best of it.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I will help you,&rdquo; said D&rsquo;Arragon slowly, almost
+carefully, &ldquo;if I can.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He was still avoiding her eyes, still looking out of the window.&nbsp;
+Sebastian was coming up the steps.</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<h2>CHAPTER XIV.&nbsp; MOSCOW.</h2>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<i>Nothing is so disappointing as failure&mdash;except
+success.</i></p>
+<p>While the Dantzigers with grave faces discussed the news of Borodino
+beneath the trees in the Frauengasse, Charles Darragon, white with dust,
+rose in his stirrups to catch the first sight of the domes and cupolas
+of Moscow.</p>
+<p>It was a sunny morning, and the gold on the churches gleamed and
+glittered in the shimmering heat like fairyland.&nbsp; Charles had ridden
+to the summit of a hill and sat for a moment, as others had done, in
+silent contemplation.&nbsp; Moscow at last!&nbsp; All around him men
+were shouting: &ldquo;Moscow!&nbsp; Moscow!&rdquo;&nbsp; Grave, white-haired
+generals waved their shakos in the air.&nbsp; Those at the summit of
+the hill called the others to come.&nbsp; Far down in the valley, where
+the dust raised by thousands of feet hung in the air like a mist, a
+faint sound like the roar of falling water could be heard.&nbsp; It
+was the word &ldquo;Moscow!&rdquo; sweeping back to the rearmost ranks
+of these starving men who had marched for two months beneath the glaring
+sun, parched with dust, through a country that seemed to them a Sahara.&nbsp;
+Every house they approached, they had found deserted.&nbsp; Every barn
+was empty.&nbsp; The very crops ripening to harvest had been gathered
+in and burnt.&nbsp; Near to the miserable farmhouses, a pile of ashes
+hardly cold marked where the poor furniture had been tossed upon the
+fire kindled with the year&rsquo;s harvest.</p>
+<p>Everywhere it was the same.&nbsp; There are, as God created it, few
+countries of a sadder aspect than that which spreads between the Moskwa
+and the Vistula.&nbsp; But it has been decreed by the dim laws of Race
+that the ugly countries shall be blessed with the greater love of their
+children, while men born in a beautiful land seem readiest to emigrate
+from it and make the best settlers in a new home.&nbsp; There is only
+one country in the world with a ring-fence round it.&nbsp; If a Russian
+is driven from his home, he will go to another part of Russia: there
+is always room.</p>
+<p>Before the advance of the spoilers, chartered by their leader to
+unlimited and open rapine&mdash;indeed, he had led them hither with
+that understanding&mdash;the Prussians, peasant and noble alike, fled
+to the East.&nbsp; A hundred times the advance guard, fully alive to
+the advantages of their position, had raced to the gates of a ch&acirc;teau
+only to find, on breaking open the doors, that it was empty&mdash;the
+furniture destroyed, the stores burnt, the wine poured out.</p>
+<p>So also in the peasants&rsquo; huts.&nbsp; Some, more careful than
+the rest, had pulled the thatch from the roof to burn it.&nbsp; There
+was no corn in this the Egypt of their greedy hopes.&nbsp; And, lest
+they should bring the corn with them, the spoilers found the mills everywhere
+wrecked.</p>
+<p>It was something new to them.&nbsp; It was new to Napoleon, who had
+so frequently been met halfway, who knew that men for greed will part
+smilingly with half in order to save the residue.&nbsp; He knew that
+many, rather than help a neighbour who is in danger by a robber, will
+join the robber and share the spoil, crying out that <i>force majeure</i>
+was used to them.</p>
+<p>But, as every man must judge according to his lights, so must even
+the greatest find himself in the dark at last.&nbsp; No man of the Latin
+race will ever understand the Slav.&nbsp; And because the beginning
+is easy&mdash;because in certain superficial tricks of speech and thought
+Paris and Petersburg are not unlike&mdash;so much the more is the breach
+widened when necessity digs deeper than the surface.&nbsp; For, to make
+the acquaintance of a stranger who seems to be a counterpart of one&rsquo;s
+self in thought and taste, is like the first hearing of a kindred language
+such as Dutch to the English ear.&nbsp; At first it sounds like one&rsquo;s
+own tongue with a hundred identical words, but on closer listening it
+will be found that the words mean something else, and that the whole
+is incomprehensible and the more difficult to acquire by the very reason
+of its resemblance.</p>
+<p>Napoleon thought that the Russians would act as his enemies of the
+Latin race had acted.&nbsp; He thought that like his own people they
+would be over-confident, urging each other on to great deeds by loud
+words and a hundred boasts.&nbsp; But the Russians lack self-confidence,
+are timid rather than over-bold, dreamy rather than fiery.&nbsp; Only
+their women are glib of speech.&nbsp; He thought that they would begin
+very brilliantly and end with a compromise, heart-breaking at first
+and soon lived down.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;They are savages out here in the plains,&rdquo; he said.&nbsp;
+&ldquo;It is a barbaric and stupid instinct that makes them destroy
+their own property for the sake of hampering us.&nbsp; As we approach
+Moscow we shall find that the more civilized inhabitants of the villages,
+enervated by an easy life, rendered selfish by possession of wealth,
+will not abandon their property, but will barter and sell to us and
+find themselves the victims of our might.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>And the army believed him.&nbsp; For they always believed him.&nbsp;
+Faith can, indeed, move mountains.&nbsp; It carried four hundred thousand
+men, without provisions, through a barren land.</p>
+<p>And now, in sight of the golden city, the army was still hungry.&nbsp;
+Nay! it was ragged already.&nbsp; In three columns it converged on the
+doomed capital, driving before it like a swarm of flies the Cossacks
+who harassed the advance.</p>
+<p>Here again, on the hill looking down into the smiling valley of the
+Moskwa, the unexpected awaited the invaders.&nbsp; The city, shimmering
+in the sunlight like the realization of some Arab&rsquo;s dream, was
+silent.&nbsp; The Cossacks had disappeared.&nbsp; Except those around
+the Kremlin, towering above the river, the city had no walls.</p>
+<p>The army halted while aides-de-camp flew hither and thither on their
+weary horses.&nbsp; Charles Darragon, sunburnt, dusty, hoarse with cheering,
+was among the first.&nbsp; He looked right and left for de Casimir,
+but could not see him.&nbsp; He had not seen his chief since Borodino,
+for he was temporarily attached to the staff of Prince Eugene, who had
+lost heavily at the Kalugha river.</p>
+<p>It was usual for the army to halt before a beleaguered city and await
+the advent in all humility of the vanquished.&nbsp; Commonly it was
+the mayor of a town who came, followed by his councillors in their robes,
+to explain that the army had abandoned the city, which now begged to
+throw itself upon the mercy of the conqueror.</p>
+<p>For this the army waited on that sunny September morning.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He is putting on his robes,&rdquo; they said gaily.&nbsp;
+&ldquo;He is new to this work.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>But the mayor of Moscow disappointed them.&nbsp; At last the troops
+moved on and camped for the night in a village under the Kremlin walls.&nbsp;
+It was here that Charles received a note from de Casimir.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I am slightly wounded,&rdquo; wrote that officer, &ldquo;but
+am following the army.&nbsp; At Borodino my horse was killed under me,
+and I was thrown.&nbsp; While I was insensible, I was robbed and lost
+what money I had, as well as my despatch-case.&nbsp; In the latter was
+the letter you wrote to your wife.&nbsp; It is lost, my friend; you
+must write another.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Charles was tired.&nbsp; He would put off till to-morrow, he thought,
+and write to D&eacute;sir&eacute;e from Moscow.&nbsp; As he lay, all
+dressed on the hard ground, he fell to thinking of what he should write
+to D&eacute;sir&eacute;e to-morrow from Moscow.&nbsp; The mere date
+and address of such a letter would make her love him the more, he thought;
+for, like his leaders, he was dazed by a surfeit of glory.</p>
+<p>As he fell asleep smiling at these happy reflections, D&eacute;sir&eacute;e,
+far away in Dantzig, was locking in her bureau the letter which had
+been lost and found again; while, on the deck of his ship, lifting gently
+to the tideway where the Vistula sweeps out into the Dantziger Bucht,
+Louis d&rsquo;Arragon stood fingering reflectively in his jacket-pocket
+the unread papers which had fallen from the same despatch-case.&nbsp;
+For it is a very small world in which to do wrong, though if a man do
+a little good in his lifetime it is&mdash;heaven knows&mdash;soon mislaid
+and trodden under the feet of the new-comers.</p>
+<p>The next day it was definitely ascertained that the citizens of Moscow
+had no communication to make to the conquering leaders.&nbsp; Soon after
+daylight the army moved towards the city.&nbsp; The suburbs were deserted.&nbsp;
+The houses stood with closed shutters and locked doors.&nbsp; Not so
+much as a dog awaited the triumphant entry through the city gates.</p>
+<p>Long streets without a living being from end to end met the eyes
+of those daring organizers of triumphal entries who had been sent forward
+to clear a path and range the respectful citizens on either hand.&nbsp;
+But there were no citizens.&nbsp; There was not a single witness to
+this triumph of the greatest army the world had seen, led across Europe
+by the first captain in all history to conquer a virgin capital.</p>
+<p>The various corps marched to their quarters in silence, with nervous
+glances at the shuttered windows.&nbsp; Some, breaking rank, ventured
+into the churches which stood open.&nbsp; The candles were lighted on
+the altars, they reported to their comrades in a hushed voice when they
+returned, but there was no one there.</p>
+<p>Certain palaces were selected as head-quarters for the general officers
+and the chiefs of various departments.&nbsp; As often as not a summons
+would be answered and the door opened by an obsequious porter, who handed
+the keys to the first-comer.&nbsp; But he spoke no French, and only
+cringed in silence when addressed.&nbsp; Other doors were broken in.</p>
+<p>It was like a play acted in dumb show on an immense stage.&nbsp;
+It was disquieting and incomprehensible even to the oldest campaigner,
+while the young fire-eaters, fresh from St. Cyr, were strangely depressed
+by it.&nbsp; There was a smell of sour smoke in the air, a suggestion
+of inevitable tragedy.</p>
+<p>On the Krasnaya Pl&ograve;schad&mdash;the great Red Square, which
+is the central point of the old town&mdash;the soldiers were already
+buying and selling the spoil wrested from the burning Exchange.&nbsp;
+It seemed that the citizens before leaving had collected their merchandise
+in this building to burn it.&nbsp; To the rank-and-file this meant nothing
+but an incomprehensible stupidity.&nbsp; To the educated and the thoughtful
+it was another evidence of that dumb and sullen capacity for infinite
+self-sacrifice which makes Russians different from any other race, and
+which has yet to be reckoned with in the history of the world.&nbsp;
+For it will tend to the greatest good of the greatest number, and is
+a power for national aggrandisement quite unattainable by any Latin
+people.</p>
+<p>Charles, with the other officers of Prince Eugene&rsquo;s staff,
+was quartered in a palace on the Petrovka&mdash;that wide street running
+from the Kremlin northward to the boulevards and the parks.&nbsp; Going
+towards it he passed through the bazaars and the merchants&rsquo; quarters,
+where, like an army of rag-pickers, the eager looters were silently
+hurrying from heap to heap.&nbsp; Every warehouse had, it seemed, been
+ransacked and its contents thrown out into the streets.&nbsp; The first-comers
+had hurried on, seeking something more valuable, more portable, leaving
+the later arrivals to turn over their garbage like dogs upon a dust-heap.</p>
+<p>The Petrovka is a long street of great houses, and was now deserted.&nbsp;
+The pillagers were nervous and ill at ease, as men must always be in
+the presence of something they do not understand.&nbsp; The most experienced
+of them&mdash;and there were some famous robbers in Murat&rsquo;s vanguard&mdash;had
+never seen an empty city abandoned all standing, as the Russians had
+abandoned Moscow.&nbsp; They felt apprehensive of the unknown.&nbsp;
+Even the least imaginative of them looked askance at the tall houses,
+at the open doors of the empty churches, and they kept together for
+company&rsquo;s sake.</p>
+<p>Charles&rsquo;s rooms were in the Momonoff Palace, where even the
+youngest lieutenant had vast apartments assigned to him.&nbsp; It was
+in one of these&mdash;a lady&rsquo;s boudoir, where his dust-covered
+baggage had been thrown down carelessly by his orderly on a blue satin
+sofa&mdash;that he sat down to write to D&eacute;sir&eacute;e.</p>
+<p>His emotions had been stirred by all that he had passed through&mdash;by
+the first sight of Moscow, by the passage beneath the Gate of the Redeemer,
+where every man must uncover and only Napoleon dared to wear a hat;
+by the bewildering sense of triumph and the knowledge that he was taking
+part in one of the epochs of man&rsquo;s history on this earth.&nbsp;
+The emotions lie very near together, so that laughter being aroused
+must also touch on tears, and hatred being kindled warms the heart to
+love.</p>
+<p>And, here in this unknown woman&rsquo;s room, with the very pen that
+she had thrown aside, Charles, who wrote and spoke his love with such
+facility, wrote to D&eacute;sir&eacute;e a love-letter such as he had
+never written before.</p>
+<p>When it was sealed and addressed he called his orderly to take it
+to the officer to whose duty it fell to make up the courier for Germany.&nbsp;
+But he received no reply.&nbsp; The man had joined his comrades in the
+busier quarters of the city.&nbsp; Charles went to the head of the stairs
+and called again, with no better success.&nbsp; The house was comparatively
+modern, built on the familiar lines of a Parisian <i>h&ocirc;tel</i>,
+with a wide stair descending to an entrance archway where carriages
+passed through into a courtyard.</p>
+<p>Descending the stairs, Charles found that even the sentry had absented
+himself from his duty.&nbsp; His musket, leant against the post of the
+stone doorway, indicated that he was not far.&nbsp; Listening in the
+silence of that great house, Charles heard some one at work with hammer
+and chisel in the courtyard.&nbsp; He went there, and found the sentry
+kneeling at a low door, endeavouring to break it open.&nbsp; The man
+had not been idle; from a piece of rope slung across his back half a
+dozen clocks were suspended.&nbsp; They rattled together like the wares
+of a travelling tinsmith at every movement of his arms.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What are you doing there, my friend?&rdquo; asked Charles.</p>
+<p>The man held up one finger over his shoulder without looking round,
+and shook it from side to side, as not desiring to be interrupted.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The cellar,&rdquo; he answered, &ldquo;always the cellar.&nbsp;
+It is human nature.&nbsp; We get it from the animals.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He glanced round as he worked, and, perceiving that he had been addressing
+an officer, he scrambled to his feet with a grumbled curse.&nbsp; He
+was an old man, baked by the sun.&nbsp; The wrinkles in his face were
+filled with dust.&nbsp; Since quitting the banks of the Vistula no opportunity
+for ablution seemed to have presented itself to him.&nbsp; He stood
+at attention, his lips working over sunken gums.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I want you to take this letter,&rdquo; said Charles, &ldquo;to
+the officer on service at head-quarters, and ask him to include it in
+his courier.&nbsp; It is, as you see, a private letter&mdash;to my wife
+at Dantzig.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The man looked at it, and grumbled something inaudible.&nbsp; He
+took it in his hand and turned it over with the slow manner of the illiterate.</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<h2>CHAPTER XV.&nbsp; THE GOAL.</h2>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<i>God writes straight on crooked lines.</i></p>
+<p>Charles, having given his letter to the sentry with the order to
+take it to its immediate destination, turned towards the stairs again.&nbsp;
+In those days an order was given in a different tone to that which servitude
+demands in later times.</p>
+<p>He returned to his room on the first floor without even waiting to
+make sure that he would be obeyed.&nbsp; He had scarcely seated himself
+when, after a fumbling knock, the sentry opened the door and followed
+him into the room, still holding the letter in his hand.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Mon capitaine,&rdquo; he said with a certain calmness of manner
+as from an old soldier to a young one, &ldquo;a word&mdash;that is all.&nbsp;
+This letter,&rdquo; he turned it in his hand as he spoke, and looking
+at Charles beneath scowling brows, awaited an explanation.&nbsp; &ldquo;Did
+you pick it up?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No&mdash;I wrote it.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Good.&nbsp; I . . . &rdquo; he paused, and tapped himself
+on the chest so that there could be no mistake; there was a rattling
+sound behind him suggestive of ironware.&nbsp; Indeed, he was hung about
+with other things than clocks, and seemed to be of opinion that if a
+soldier sets value upon any object he must attach it to his person.&nbsp;
+&ldquo;I, Barlasch of the Guard&mdash;Marengo, the Danube, Egypt&mdash;picked
+up after Borodino a letter like it.&nbsp; I cannot read very quickly&mdash;indeed&mdash;&nbsp;
+Bah! the old Guard needs no pens and paper&mdash;but that letter I picked
+up was just like this&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Was it addressed like that to Madame D&eacute;sir&eacute;e
+Darragon?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;So a comrade told me.&nbsp; It is you, her husband?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; answered Charles, &ldquo;since you ask; I am her
+husband.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ah!&rdquo; replied Barlasch darkly, and his limbs and features
+settled themselves into a patient waiting.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well,&rdquo; asked Charles, &ldquo;what are you waiting for?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Whatever you may think proper, mon capitaine, for I gave the
+letter to the surgeon who promised that it should be forwarded to its
+address.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Charles laughingly sought his purse.&nbsp; But there was nothing
+in it, so he looked round the room.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Here, add this to your collection,&rdquo; and he took a small
+French clock from the writing-table, a pretty, gilded toy from Paris.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Thank you, mon capitaine.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Barlasch, with shaking fingers, unknotted the rope around his shoulders.&nbsp;
+As he was doing so one of the clocks on his back began to strike.&nbsp;
+He paused, and stood looking gravely at his superior officer.&nbsp;
+Another clock took up the tale and a third, while Barlasch sternly stood
+at attention.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Four o&rsquo;clock,&rdquo; he said to himself, &ldquo;and
+I, who have not yet breakfasted&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>With a grunt and a salute he turned towards the door which stood
+open.&nbsp; Some one was coming up the stairs rather slowly, his spurs
+clinking, his scabbard clashing against the gilded banisters.&nbsp;
+Papa Barlasch stood aside at attention, and Colonel de Casimir came
+into the room with a gay word of greeting.&nbsp; Barlasch went out,
+but he did not close the door.&nbsp; It is to be presumed that he stood
+without, where he might have overheard all that they said to each other
+for quite a long time, until it was almost the half-hour when the clocks
+would strike again.&nbsp; But de Casimir, perceiving that the door was
+open, closed it quietly from within, and Barlasch, shut out on the wide
+landing, made a grimace at the massive woodwork before turning to descend
+the stairs.</p>
+<p>It was the middle of September, and the days were shortening.&nbsp;
+The dusk of evening had already closed over the city when de Casimir
+and Charles at length came downstairs.&nbsp; No one had troubled to
+open the shutters of such rooms as were not required; and these were
+many.&nbsp; For Moscow was even at that day a great city, though less
+spacious and more fantastic than it is to-day.&nbsp; There was plenty
+of room for the whole army in the houses left empty by their owners,
+so that many lodged as they had never lodged before and would never
+lodge again.</p>
+<p>The stairs were almost dark when Charles and his companion descended
+them.&nbsp; The rusted musket poised against the doorpost still indicated
+the supposed presence of a sentry.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Listen,&rdquo; said Charles, &ldquo;I found him burrowing
+like a rat at a cellar-door in the courtyard.&nbsp; Perhaps he has got
+in.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>They listened, but could hear nothing.&nbsp; Charles led the way
+towards the courtyard.&nbsp; A glimmer of light guided him to the door
+he sought.&nbsp; It stood open.&nbsp; Barlasch had succeeded in effecting
+an entry to the cellar, where his experience taught him to seek the
+best that an abandoned house contains.</p>
+<p>Charles and de Casimir peered down the narrow stairs.&nbsp; By the
+light of a candle Barlasch was working vigorously amid a confused pile
+of cases, and furniture, and roughly tied bundles of clothing.&nbsp;
+He had laid aside nothing, and his movements were attended by the usual
+rattle of hollow-ware.&nbsp; They could see the perspiration gleaming
+on his face.&nbsp; Even in this cellar there lingered the faint smell
+of sour smoke that filled the air of Moscow.</p>
+<p>De Casimir caught the gleam of jewellery, and went hurriedly downstairs.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What are you doing there, my friend?&rdquo; he asked, and
+the words were scarcely out of his mouth, when Barlasch extinguished
+his candle.&nbsp; There followed a dead silence, such as comes when
+a rodent is disturbed at his work.&nbsp; The two men on the cellar-stairs
+were conscious of the gaze of the bright, rat-like eyes below.</p>
+<p>De Casimir turned and followed Charles upstairs again.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Come up,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;and go to your post.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>There was no movement in response.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Name of a dog,&rdquo; cried de Casimir, &ldquo;is all discipline
+relaxed?&nbsp; Come up, I tell you, and obey my orders.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He emphasized his command with the cocking of a pistol, and a slight
+disturbance in the darkness of the cellar heralded the unwilling approach
+of Barlasch, who climbed the stairs step by step like a schoolboy coming
+to punishment.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It is I who found the door, mon colonel, behind that pile
+of firewood.&nbsp; It is I who opened it.&nbsp; What is down there is
+mine,&rdquo; he said, sullenly.&nbsp; But the only reply that de Casimir
+made was to seize him by the arm and jerk him away from the stairs.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;To your post,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;take your arm, and out
+into the street, in front of the house.&nbsp; That is your place.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>But while he was still speaking, they were all startled by a sudden
+disturbance in the cellar, and in the gloom a man stumbled up the stairs
+and ran past them.&nbsp; Barlasch had taken the precaution of bolting
+the huge front door, which was large enough to give passage to a carriage.&nbsp;
+The man, who exhaled an atmosphere of dust mingled with the disquieting
+and all-pervading odour of smoke, rushed at the huge door and tugged
+furiously at its handles.</p>
+<p>Charles, who was on his heels, grasped his arm, but the man swung
+round and threw him off as if he were a child.&nbsp; He had a hatchet
+in his hand with which he aimed a blow at Charles, but missed him.&nbsp;
+Barlasch was already going towards his musket, which stood in the corner
+against the door-post, but the Russian saw his movement, and forestalled
+him.&nbsp; Seizing the gun, he presented the bayonet to them, and stood
+with his back to the door, facing the three men in a breathless silence.&nbsp;
+He was a large man, dishevelled, with long hair tumbled about his head,
+and light-coloured eyes, glaring like the eyes of a beast at bay.</p>
+<p>In the background de Casimir, quick and calm, had already covered
+him with the pistol produced as a persuasive to Barlasch.&nbsp; For
+a second there was silence, during which they all could hear the call
+to arms in the street outside.&nbsp; The patrol was hurrying down the
+Petrovka, calling the assembly.</p>
+<p>The report of the pistol rang through the house, shaking the doors
+and windows.&nbsp; The man threw up his arms and stood for a moment
+looking at de Casimir with an expression of blank amazement.&nbsp; Then
+his legs seemed to slip away from beneath him, and he collapsed to the
+floor.&nbsp; He turned over with movements singularly suggestive of
+a child seeking a comfortable position in bed, and lay quite still,
+his cheek on the pavement and his staring eyes turned towards the cellar-door
+from which he had emerged.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He has his affair&mdash;that parishioner,&rdquo; muttered
+Barlasch, looking at him with a smile that twisted his mouth to one
+side.&nbsp; And, as he spoke, the man&rsquo;s throat rattled.&nbsp;
+De Casimir was reloading his pistol.&nbsp; So persistent was the gaze
+of the dead man&rsquo;s eyes that de Casimir turned on his heel to look
+in the same direction.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Quick!&rdquo; he exclaimed, pointing to the doorway, from
+which a lazy white smoke emerged in thin puffs.&nbsp; &ldquo;Quick,
+he has set fire to the house!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Quick&mdash;with what, mon colonel?&rdquo; asked Barlasch.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Why, go and fetch some men with a fire-engine.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;There are no fire-engines left in Moscow, mon colonel!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Then find buckets, and tell me where the well is.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;There are no buckets left in Moscow, mon colonel.&nbsp; We
+found that out last night, when we wanted to water the horses.&nbsp;
+The citizens have removed them.&nbsp; And there is not a well of which
+the rope has not been cut.&nbsp; They are droll companions, these Russians,
+I can tell you.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Do as I tell you,&rdquo; repeated de Casimir, angrily, &ldquo;or
+I shall put you under arrest.&nbsp; Go and fetch men to help me to extinguish
+this fire.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>By way of reply, Barlasch held up one finger in a childlike gesture
+of attention to some distant sound.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No, thank you,&rdquo; he said, coolly, &ldquo;not for me.&nbsp;
+Discipline, mon colonel, discipline.&nbsp; Listen, you can hear the
+&lsquo;assembly&rsquo; as well as I.&nbsp; It is the Emperor that one
+obeys.&nbsp; One thinks of one&rsquo;s military career.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>With knotted and shaking fingers he drew back the bolts and opened
+the door.&nbsp; On the threshold he saluted.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It is the call to arms, mes officiers,&rdquo; he said.&nbsp;
+Then, shouldering his musket, he turned away, and all his clocks struck
+six.&nbsp; The bells of the city churches seemed to greet him as he
+stepped into the street, for in Moscow each hour is proclaimed with
+deafening iteration from a thousand towers.</p>
+<p>He looked down the Petrovka; from half the houses which bordered
+the wide roadway&mdash;a street of palaces&mdash;the smoke was pouring
+forth in puffs.&nbsp; He went uphill towards the Red Square and the
+Kremlin, where the Emperor had his head-quarters.&nbsp; It was to this
+centre that the patrols had converged.&nbsp; Looking back, Barlasch
+saw, not one house on fire, but a hundred.&nbsp; The smoke arose from
+every quarter of the city at once.&nbsp; He hurried on, but was stopped
+by a crowd of soldiers, all laden with booty, gesticulating, shouting,
+abusing one another.&nbsp; It was Babel over again.&nbsp; The riff-raff
+of sixteen nations had followed Napoleon to Moscow&mdash;to rob.&nbsp;
+Half a dozen different tongues were spoken in one army corps.&nbsp;
+There remained no national pride to act as a deterrent.&nbsp; No man
+cared what he did.&nbsp; The blame would be laid upon France.</p>
+<p>The crowd was collected in front of a high, many-windowed building
+in flames.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What is it?&rdquo; Barlasch asked first one and then another.&nbsp;
+But no one spoke his tongue.&nbsp; At last he found a Frenchman.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It is the hospital.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And what is that smell?&nbsp; What is burning there?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Twelve thousand wounded,&rdquo; answered the man, with a sickening
+laugh.&nbsp; And even as he spoke one or two of the wounded dragged
+themselves, half burnt, down the wide steps.&nbsp; No one dared to approach
+them, for the walls of the building were already bulging outwards.&nbsp;
+One man was half covered with a sheet which was black, and his bare
+limbs were black with smoke.&nbsp; All the hair was burnt from his head
+and face.&nbsp; He stood for a moment in the doorway&mdash;a sight never
+to be forgotten&mdash;and then fell headlong down the steps, where he
+lay motionless.&nbsp; Some one in the crowd laughed&mdash;a high cackle
+which was heard above the roar of the fire and the deafening chorus
+of burning timbers.</p>
+<p>Barlasch passed on, following some officers who were leading their
+horses towards the Kremlin.&nbsp; The streets were full of soldiers
+carrying burdens, and staggering beneath the weight of their spoil.&nbsp;
+Many were wearing priceless fur cloaks, and others walked in women&rsquo;s
+wraps of sable and ermine.&nbsp; Some wore jewellery, such as necklaces,
+on their rough uniforms, and bracelets round their sunburnt wrists.&nbsp;
+No one laughed at them, but only glanced enviously at the pillage.&nbsp;
+All were in deadly earnest, and none graver than those who had found
+drink and now regretted that they had given way to the temptation; for
+their sober comrades had outwitted them in finding treasure.</p>
+<p>One man gravely wore a gilt coronet crammed over the crown of his
+shako.&nbsp; He joined Barlasch, staggering along beside him.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I come from the Cathedral,&rdquo; he explained, confidentially.&nbsp;
+&ldquo;St. Michael they call it.&nbsp; They said there was great treasure
+there hidden in the cellars, but I only found a company of old kings
+in their coffins.&nbsp; We stirred them up.&nbsp; They were quiet enough
+when we found them, under their counterpanes of red velvet.&nbsp; We
+stirred them up with the bayonet, and the dust got into our throats
+and choked us.&nbsp; Name of God, I am thirsty.&nbsp; You have nothing
+in your bottle, comrade?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Barlasch trudged on, all his possessions swinging and clanking together.&nbsp;
+The confidential man turned towards him and lifted his water-bottle,
+weighed it, and found it wanting.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Name of a name, of a name, of a name,&rdquo; he muttered,
+walking on.&nbsp; &ldquo;Yes, there was nothing there.&nbsp; Even the
+silver plates on the coffins with the names of those gentlemen were
+no thicker than a sword.&nbsp; But I found a crown in the church itself.&nbsp;
+I borrowed it from St. Michael.&nbsp; He had a sword in his hand, but
+he did not strike.&nbsp; No.&nbsp; And there was only tinsel on the
+hilt.&nbsp; No jewels.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He walked on in silence for a few minutes, coughing out the smoke
+and dust from his lungs.&nbsp; It was almost dark, but the whole city
+was blazing now, and the sky glowed with a red light that mingled with
+the remnants of a lurid sunset.&nbsp; A strong wind blew the smoke and
+the flying sparks across the roofs.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Then I went into the sacristy,&rdquo; continued the man, stumbling
+over the dead body of a young girl and turning to curse her.&nbsp; Barlasch
+looked at him sideways and cursed him for doing it, with a sudden fierce
+eloquence.&nbsp; For Papa Barlasch was a man of unclean lips.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;There was an old man in there, a sacristan.&nbsp; I asked
+him where he kept the dishes, and he said he could not speak French.&nbsp;
+I jerked my bayonet into him&mdash;name of a name! he soon spoke French.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Barlasch broke off these delicate confidences by a quick word of
+command, and himself stood rigid in the roadway before the Imperial
+Palace of the Kremlin, presenting arms.&nbsp; A man passed close by
+them on his way towards a waiting carriage.&nbsp; He was stout and heavy-shouldered,
+peculiarly square, with a thick neck and head set low in the shoulders.&nbsp;
+On the step of the carriage he turned and surveyed the lurid sky and
+the burning city to the east with an indifferent air.&nbsp; Into his
+deep bloodshot eyes there flashed a sudden gleam of life and power,
+as he glanced along the row of watching faces to read what was written
+there.</p>
+<p>It was Napoleon, at the summit of his dream, hurriedly quitting the
+Kremlin, the boasted goal of his ambition, after having passed but one
+night under that proud roof.</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<h2>CHAPTER XVI.&nbsp; THE FIRST OF THE EBB.</h2>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<i>Tho&rsquo;
+he trip and fall<br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;He shall not blind
+his soul with clay.</i></p>
+<p>The days were short, and November was drawing to its end when Barlasch
+returned to Dantzig.&nbsp; Already the frost, holding its own against
+a sun that seemed to linger in the North that year, exercised its sway
+almost to midday, and drew a mist from the level plains.</p>
+<p>The autumn had been one of unprecedented splendour, making the imaginative
+whisper that Napoleon, like a second Joshua, could exact obedience even
+from the sun.&nbsp; A month earlier, soon after the retreat was ordered,
+the nights had begun to be cold, but the days remained brilliant.&nbsp;
+Now the rivers were shrouded in white mist, and still water was frozen.</p>
+<p>Barlasch seemed to take it for understood that a billet holds good
+throughout a whole campaign.&nbsp; But the door of No. 36 Frauengasse
+was locked when he turned its iron handle.&nbsp; He knocked, and waited
+on the step.</p>
+<p>It was D&eacute;sir&eacute;e who opened the door at length&mdash;D&eacute;sir&eacute;e,
+grown older, with something new in her eyes.&nbsp; Barlasch, sure of
+his <i>entr&eacute;e</i>, had already removed his boots, which he carried
+in his hand; this added to a certain surreptitiousness in his attitude.&nbsp;
+A handkerchief was bound over his left eye.&nbsp; He wore his shako
+still, but the rest of his uniform verged on the fantastic.&nbsp; Under
+a light-blue Bavarian cavalry cape he wore a peasant&rsquo;s homespun
+shirt, and he carried no arms.</p>
+<p>He pushed past D&eacute;sir&eacute;e rather unceremoniously, glad
+to get within doors.&nbsp; He was very lame, and of his blue knitted
+stockings only the legs remained; he was barefoot.</p>
+<p>He limped towards the kitchen, glancing over his shoulder to make
+sure that D&eacute;sir&eacute;e shut the door.&nbsp; The chair he had
+made his own stood just within the open door of the kitchen.&nbsp; It
+was nine o&rsquo;clock in the morning, and Lisa had gone to market.&nbsp;
+Barlasch sat down.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Voil&agrave;,&rdquo; he said, and that was all.&nbsp; But
+by a gesture he described the end of the world.&nbsp; Then he scowled
+at her with his available eye with suspicion, and she turned away suddenly,
+as one may who has not a clear conscience.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What is the matter with your eye?&rdquo; she asked, in order
+to break the silence.&nbsp; He laid aside his hat, and his ragged hair,
+quite white, fell to his shoulders.&nbsp; By way of answer, he unknotted
+the bloodstained dusky handkerchief, and looked up at her.&nbsp; The
+hidden eye was uninjured and as bright as the other.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Nothing,&rdquo; he answered, and he confirmed the statement
+by a low-born wink.&nbsp; More than once he glanced, with a glaring
+light in his eye, towards the cupboard where Lisa kept the bread, and
+quite suddenly D&eacute;sir&eacute;e knew that he was starving.&nbsp;
+She ran to the cupboard, and hurriedly set down on the table before
+him what was there.&nbsp; It was not much&mdash;a piece of cold meat
+and a whole loaf.</p>
+<p>He had taken off his haversack, and was fumbling in it with unsteady
+hands.&nbsp; At last he found that which he sought.&nbsp; It was wrapped
+in a silk scarf that must have come from Cashmere to Moscow, and from
+Moscow in his haversack with pieces of horseflesh and muddy roots to
+Dantzig.&nbsp; With that awkwardness in giving and taking which belongs
+to his class, he held out to D&eacute;sir&eacute;e a little square &ldquo;ikon&rdquo;
+no bigger than a playing-card.&nbsp; It was of gold, set with diamonds,
+and the faces of the Virgin and Child were painted with exquisite delicacy.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It is a thing to say your prayers to,&rdquo; he said gruffly.</p>
+<p>By an effort he kept his eyes averted from the food on the table.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I met a baker on the bridge,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;and offered
+it to him for a loaf, but he refused.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>And there was a whole history of human suffering and temptation&mdash;of
+the human fall&mdash;in his curt laugh.&nbsp; While D&eacute;sir&eacute;e
+was looking at the treasure in speechless admiration, he turned suddenly
+and took the bread and meat in his grimy hands.&nbsp; His crooked fingers
+closed over the loaf, making the crust crack, and for a second the expression
+of his face was not human.&nbsp; Then he hurried to the room that had
+been his, like a dog that seeks to hide its greed in its kennel.</p>
+<p>In a surprisingly short time he came back, the greyness all gone
+from his face, though his eyes still glittered with the dry, hard light
+of starvation.&nbsp; He went back to the chair near the door, and sat
+down.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Seven hundred miles,&rdquo; he said, looking down at his feet
+with a shake of the head, &ldquo;seven hundred miles in six weeks.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Then he glanced at her and out through the open door, to make sure
+none could overhear.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Because I was afraid,&rdquo; he added in a whisper.&nbsp;
+&ldquo;I am easily frightened.&nbsp; I am not brave.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>D&eacute;sir&eacute;e shook her head and laughed.&nbsp; Women have
+from all time accepted the theory that a uniform makes a man courageous.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;They had to abandon the guns,&rdquo; he went on, &ldquo;soon
+after quitting Moscow.&nbsp; The horses were starving.&nbsp; There was
+a steep hill, and the guns were left at the bottom.&nbsp; Then I began
+to be afraid.&nbsp; There were some marching with candelabras on their
+backs and nothing in their <i>carnassi&egrave;res</i>.&nbsp; They carried
+a million francs on their shoulders and death in their faces.&nbsp;
+I was afraid.&nbsp; I carried salt&mdash;salt&mdash;and nothing else.&nbsp;
+Then one day I saw the Emperor&rsquo;s face.&nbsp; That was enough.&nbsp;
+The same night I crept away while the others slept round the fire.&nbsp;
+They looked like a masquerade.&nbsp; Some of them wore ermine.&nbsp;
+Oh! I was afraid, I tell you.&nbsp; I only had the salt and some horse.&nbsp;
+There was plenty of that on the road.&nbsp; And that toy.&nbsp; I found
+it in Moscow.&nbsp; I stood in a cellar, as big as this room, full of
+such things.&nbsp; But one thinks of one&rsquo;s life.&nbsp; I only
+carried salt, and that picture for you . . .&nbsp; to say your prayers
+to.&nbsp; The good God will hear you, perhaps; He has no time to listen
+to us others.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>And he used the last words as a French peasant, which is a survival
+of serfdom that has come down through the furnace of the Revolution.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But I cannot take it,&rdquo; said D&eacute;sir&eacute;e.&nbsp;
+&ldquo;It is worth a million francs.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He looked at her fiercely.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You think that I look for something in return?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh no!&rdquo; she answered, &ldquo;I have nothing to give
+you in return.&nbsp; I am as poor as you.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Then we can be friends,&rdquo; he said.&nbsp; He was eyeing
+surreptitiously a mug of beer which D&eacute;sir&eacute;e had set before
+him on the table.&nbsp; Some instinct, or the teaching of the last two
+months, made it repugnant to him to eat or drink beneath his neighbour&rsquo;s
+eye.&nbsp; He was a sorry-looking figure, not far removed from the animals,
+and in his downward journey he had picked up, perhaps, the instinct
+which none can explain, telling an animal to take its food in secret.</p>
+<p>D&eacute;sir&eacute;e went to the window, turning her back to him,
+and looked out into the yard.&nbsp; She heard him drink, and set the
+mug down again with a gulp.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You were in Moscow?&rdquo; she said at length, half turning
+towards him so that he could see her profile and her short upper lip,
+which was parted as if to ask a question which she did not put into
+words.&nbsp; He looked her slowly up and down beneath his heavy eyebrows,
+his little cunning eyes alight with suspicion.&nbsp; He watched her
+parted lips, which were tilted at the corners, showing humour and a
+nature quick to laugh or suffer.&nbsp; Then he jerked his head upwards
+as if he saw the unasked question quivering there, and bore her some
+malice for her silence.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes! I was in Moscow,&rdquo; he said, watching the colour
+fade from her face.&nbsp; &ldquo;And I saw him&mdash;your husband&mdash;there.&nbsp;
+I was on guard outside his door the night we entered the city.&nbsp;
+It was I who carried to the post the letter he wrote you.&nbsp; He was
+very anxious that it should reach you.&nbsp; You received it&mdash;that
+love-letter?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; answered D&eacute;sir&eacute;e gravely, in no
+wise responding to a sudden forced gaiety in Papa Barlasch, which was
+only an evidence of the shyness with which rough men all the world over
+approach the subject of love.&nbsp; The gaiety lapsed into a sudden
+silence.&nbsp; He waited for her to ask a question, but in vain.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I never saw him again,&rdquo; went on Barlasch, &ldquo;for
+the &lsquo;general&rsquo; sounded, and I went out into the streets to
+find the city on fire.&nbsp; In a great army, as in a large country,
+one may easily lose one&rsquo;s own brother.&nbsp; But he will return&mdash;have
+no fear.&nbsp; He has good fortune&mdash;the fine gentleman.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He stopped and scratched his head, looked at her sideways with a
+grimace of bewilderment.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It is good news I bring you,&rdquo; he muttered.&nbsp; &ldquo;He
+was alive and well when we began the retreat.&nbsp; He was on the staff,
+and the staff had horses and carriages.&nbsp; They had bread to eat,
+I am told.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And you&mdash;what had you?&rdquo; asked D&eacute;sir&eacute;e,
+over her shoulder.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No matter,&rdquo; he answered gruffly, &ldquo;since I am here.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And yet you believe in that man still,&rdquo; flashed out
+D&eacute;sir&eacute;e, turning to face him.</p>
+<p>Barlasch held up a warning finger, as if bidding her to be silent
+on a subject on which she was not capable of forming a judgment.&nbsp;
+He wagged his head from side to side and heaved a sigh.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I tell you,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;I saw his face after Malo-Jaroslavetz;
+we lost ten thousand that day.&nbsp; And I was afraid.&nbsp; For I saw
+in it that he was going to leave us as he did in Egypt.&nbsp; I am not
+afraid when he is there&mdash;not afraid of the Devil&mdash;or the bon
+Dieu, but when Napoleon is not there&mdash;&rdquo;&nbsp; He broke off
+with a gesture describing abject terror.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;They say in Dantzig,&rdquo; said D&eacute;sir&eacute;e, &ldquo;that
+he will never get back across the B&eacute;r&eacute;sina, for the Russians
+are bringing two armies to stop him there.&nbsp; They say that the Prussians
+will turn against him.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ah&mdash;they say that already?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He looked at her with a sudden light of anger in his eyes.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Who has taught you to hate Napoleon?&rdquo; he asked bluntly.</p>
+<p>And again D&eacute;sir&eacute;e turned away from his glance as if
+she could not meet it.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No one,&rdquo; she answered.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It is not the patron,&rdquo; said Barlasch, muttering his
+thoughts as he hobbled to the door of his little room, and began unloading
+his belongings with a view to ablution; for he was a self-contained
+traveller, carrying with him all he required.&nbsp; &ldquo;It is not
+the patron.&nbsp; Because such a hatred as his cannot be spoken of.&nbsp;
+It is not your husband, because Napoleon is his god.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He broke off with one of his violent jerks of the head, almost threatening
+to dislocate his neck, and looked at her fixedly.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It is because you have grown into a woman since I went away.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>And out came his accusing finger, though D&eacute;sir&eacute;e had
+her back turned towards him, and there was none other to see.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ah!&rdquo; he said, with deadly contempt, &ldquo;I see, I
+see!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Did you expect me to grow up into a man?&rdquo; asked D&eacute;sir&eacute;e,
+over her shoulder.</p>
+<p>Barlasch stood in the doorway, his lips and jaw moving as if he were
+masticating wing&egrave;d words.&nbsp; At length, having failed to find
+a tremendous answer, he softly closed the door.</p>
+<p>This was not the only wise old veteran of the Grand Army to see which
+way the wind blew; for many another after the battle of Malo-Jaroslavetz
+packed upon his back such spoil as he could carry, and set off on foot
+for France.&nbsp; For the cold had come at length, and not a horse in
+the French army was roughed for the snowy roads, nor, indeed, had provision
+been made to rough them.&nbsp; This was a sign not lost upon those who
+had horses to care for.&nbsp; The Emperor, who forgot nothing, had forgotten
+this.&nbsp; He who foresaw everything, had omitted to foresee the winter.&nbsp;
+He had ordered a retreat from Moscow, in the middle of October, of an
+army in summer clothing, without provision for the road.&nbsp; The only
+hope was to retreat through a new line of country not despoiled by the
+enormous army in its advance of every grain of corn, every blade of
+grass. But this hope was frustrated by the Russians who, hemming them
+in, forced them to keep the road along which they had made so triumphant
+a march on Moscow.</p>
+<p>Already, in the ranks, it was whispered that by the light of the
+burning city some had perceived dark forms moving on the distant plains&mdash;a
+Russian army passing westward in front of them to await and cut them
+off at the passage of some river.&nbsp; The Russians had fought well
+at Borodino: they fought desperately at Malo-Jaroslavetz, which town
+was taken and retaken eleven times and left in cinders.</p>
+<p>The Grand Army was no longer in a position to choose its way.&nbsp;
+It was forced to cross again the battlefield of Borodino, where thirty
+thousand dead lay yet unburied.&nbsp; But Napoleon was still with them,
+his genius flashing out at times with something of the fire which had
+taken men&rsquo;s breath away and burnt his name indelibly into the
+pages of the world&rsquo;s history.&nbsp; Even when hard pressed, he
+never missed a chance of attacking.&nbsp; The enemy never made a mistake
+that he did not give them reason to rue it.</p>
+<p>To the waiting world came at length the news that the winter, so
+long retarded, had closed down over Russia.&nbsp; In Dantzig, so near
+the frontier, a hundred rumours chased each other through the streets;
+and day by day Antoine Sebastian grew younger and gayer.&nbsp; It seemed
+as if a weight long laid upon his heart had been lifted at last.&nbsp;
+He made a journey to K&ouml;nigsberg soon after Barlasch&rsquo;s return,
+and came back with eager eyes.&nbsp; His correspondence was enormous.&nbsp;
+He had, it seemed, a hundred friends who gave him news and asked something
+in exchange&mdash;advice, encouragement, warning.&nbsp; And all the
+while men whispered that Prussia would ally herself to Russia, Sweden,
+and England.</p>
+<p>From Paris came news of a growing discontent.&nbsp; For France, among
+a multitude of virtues, has one vice unpardonable to Northern men: she
+turns from a fallen friend.</p>
+<p>Soon followed the news of B&eacute;r&eacute;sina&mdash;a poor little
+river of Lithuania&mdash;where the history of the world hung for a day
+as on a thread.&nbsp; But a flash of the dying genius surmounted superhuman
+difficulties, and the catastrophe was turned into a disaster.&nbsp;
+The divisions of Victor and Oudinot&mdash;the last to preserve any semblance
+of military discipline&mdash;were almost annihilated.&nbsp; The French
+lost twelve thousand killed or drowned in the river, sixteen thousand
+prisoners, twelve of the remaining guns.&nbsp; But they were across
+the B&eacute;r&eacute;sina.&nbsp; There was no longer a Grand Army,
+however.&nbsp; There was no army at all&mdash;only a starving, struggling
+trail of men stumbling through the snow, without organization or discipline
+or hope.</p>
+<p>It was a disaster on the same gigantic scale as the past victories&mdash;a
+disaster worthy of such a conqueror.&nbsp; Even his enemies forgot to
+rejoice.&nbsp; They caught their breath and waited.</p>
+<p>And suddenly came the news that Napoleon was in Paris.</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<h2>CHAPTER XVII.&nbsp; A FORLORN HOPE.</h2>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<i>The
+fire i&rsquo; the flint<br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Shows not,
+till it be struck.</i></p>
+<p>&ldquo;It is time to do something,&rdquo; said Papa Barlasch on the
+December morning when the news reached Dantzig that Napoleon was no
+longer with the army&mdash;that he had made over the parody of command
+of the phantom army to Murat, King of Naples&mdash;that he had passed
+like an evil spirit unknown through Poland, Prussia, Germany, travelling
+twelve hundred miles night and day at breakneck speed, alone, racing
+to Paris to save his throne.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It is time to do something,&rdquo; said all Europe, when it
+was too late.&nbsp; For Napoleon was himself again&mdash;alert, indomitable,
+raising a new army, calling on France to rise to such heights of energy
+and vitality as only France can compass; for the colder nations of the
+North lack the imagination that enables men to pit themselves against
+the gods at the bidding of some stupendous will, only second to the
+will of God Himself.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Go to Dantzig, and hold it till I come,&rdquo; Napoleon had
+said to Rapp.&nbsp; &ldquo;Retreat to Poland, and hold on to anything
+you can till I come back with a new army,&rdquo; he had commanded Murat
+and Prince Eugene.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It is time to do something,&rdquo; said all the conquered
+nations, looking at each other for initiation.&nbsp; And lo! the Master
+of Surprises struck them dumb by his sudden apparition in his own capital,
+with all the strings of the European net gathered as if by magic into
+his own hands again.</p>
+<p>While everybody told his neighbour that it was time to do something,
+no one knew what to do.&nbsp; For it has pleased the Creator to put
+a great many talkers into this world and only a few men of action to
+make its history.</p>
+<p>Papa Barlasch knew what to do, however.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Where is that sailor?&rdquo; he asked D&eacute;sir&eacute;e,
+when she had told him the news which Mathilde brought in from the streets.&nbsp;
+&ldquo;He who took the patron&rsquo;s valise that night&mdash;the cousin
+of your husband.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;There is a man at Zoppot who will tell you,&rdquo; she answered.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Then I go to Zoppot.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Barlasch had lived unmolested in the Frauengasse since his return.&nbsp;
+He was an old man, ill-clad, with a bloody handkerchief bound over one
+eye.&nbsp; No one asked him any questions, except Sebastian, who heard
+again and again the tale of Moscow&mdash;how the army which had crossed
+into Russia four hundred thousand strong was reduced to a hundred thousand
+when the retreat began; how handmills were issued to the troops to grind
+corn which did not exist; how the horses died in thousands and the men
+in hundreds from starvation; how God at last had turned his face from
+Napoleon.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Something must be done.&nbsp; The patron will do nothing;
+he is in the clouds, he is dreaming dreams of a new France, that <i>bourgeois</i>.&nbsp;
+I am an old man.&nbsp; Yes, I will go to Zoppot.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You mean that we should have heard from Charles before now,&rdquo;
+said D&eacute;sir&eacute;e.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Name of thunder! he may be in Paris!&rdquo; exclaimed Barlasch,
+with the sudden anger that anxiety commands.&nbsp; &ldquo;He is on the
+staff, I tell you.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>For suspense is one of the most contagious of human emotions, and
+makes a quicker call upon our sympathy than any other.&nbsp; Do we not
+feel such a desire that our neighbour may know the worst without delay,
+that we race to impart it to him?</p>
+<p>Nor was D&eacute;sir&eacute;e alone in the trial which had drawn
+certain lines about her gay lips; for Mathilde had told her father and
+sister that should Colonel de Casimir return from the war he would ask
+her hand in marriage.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And that other&mdash;the Colonel,&rdquo; added Barlasch, glancing
+at Mathilde, &ldquo;he is on the staff too.&nbsp; They are safe enough,
+I tell you that.&nbsp; They are doubtless together.&nbsp; They were
+together at Moscow.&nbsp; I saw them, and took an order from them.&nbsp;
+They were . . . at their work.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Mathilde did not like Papa Barlasch.&nbsp; She would, it seemed,
+rather have no news at all of de Casimir than learn it from the old
+soldier, for she quitted the room without even troubling to throw him
+a glance of disdain.</p>
+<p>Barlasch waited with working lips until the sound of her footsteps
+ceased on the stairs.&nbsp; Then he pushed across the kitchen table
+a piece of writing-paper, rather yellow and woolly.&nbsp; It had been
+to Moscow and back.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Write a word to him,&rdquo; he said.&nbsp; &ldquo;I will take
+it to Zoppot.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But you can send a message by the fisherman whose name I have
+given you,&rdquo; answered D&eacute;sir&eacute;e.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And will he heed the message?&nbsp; Will he come ashore at
+a word from me&mdash;only Barlasch?&nbsp; Remember it is his life that
+he carries in his hand.&nbsp; An English sailor with a French name!&nbsp;
+Thunder of thunder!&nbsp; They would shoot him like a rat!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>D&eacute;sir&eacute;e shook her head; but Barlasch was not to be
+denied.&nbsp; He brought pen and ink from the dresser, and pushed them
+across the table.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I would not ask it,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;if it was not necessary.&nbsp;
+Do you think he will mind the danger?&nbsp; He will like it.&nbsp; He
+will say to me, &lsquo;Barlasch, I thank you.&rsquo;&nbsp; Ah? I know
+him.&nbsp; Write.&nbsp; He will come.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Why?&rdquo; asked D&eacute;sir&eacute;e.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Why?&nbsp; How should I know that?&nbsp; He came before when
+you asked him.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>D&eacute;sir&eacute;e leant over the table and wrote six words:</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Come, if you can come safely.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Barlasch took up the paper, and, pushing up the bandage which had
+served to bring him unharmed through Russia, he frowned at it without
+understanding.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It is not all writings that I can read,&rdquo; he admitted.&nbsp;
+&ldquo;Have you signed it?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Then sign something that he will know, and no other&mdash;they
+might shoot me.&nbsp; Your baptismal name.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>And she wrote &ldquo;D&eacute;sir&eacute;e&rdquo; after the six words.</p>
+<p>Barlasch folded the paper carefully and placed it in the lining of
+an old felt hat of Sebastian&rsquo;s which he now wore.&nbsp; He bound
+a scarf over his ears, after the manner of those who live on the Baltic
+shores in winter.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You can leave the rest to me,&rdquo; he said; and, with a
+nod and a grimace expressive of cunning, he left her.</p>
+<p>He did not return that night.&nbsp; The days were short now, for
+the winter was well set in.&nbsp; It was nearly dark the next afternoon
+and very cold when he came back.&nbsp; He sent Lisa upstairs for D&eacute;sir&eacute;e.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;First,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;there is a question for the
+patron.&nbsp; Will he quit Dantzig?&mdash;that is the question.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No,&rdquo; answered D&eacute;sir&eacute;e.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Rapp is coming,&rdquo; said Barlasch, emphasizing each point
+with one finger against the side of his nose.&nbsp; &ldquo;He will hold
+Dantzig.&nbsp; There will be a siege.&nbsp; Let the patron make no mistake.&nbsp;
+It will not be like the last one.&nbsp; Rapp was outside then; he will
+be inside this time.&nbsp; He will hold Dantzig till the bottom falls
+out of the world.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;My father will not leave,&rdquo; said D&eacute;sir&eacute;e.&nbsp;
+&ldquo;He has said so.&nbsp; He knows that Rapp is coming, with the
+Russians behind him.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But,&rdquo; interrupted Barlasch, &ldquo;he thinks that Prussia
+will turn and declare war against Napoleon.&nbsp; That may be.&nbsp;
+Who knows?&nbsp; The question is, Can the patron be induced to quit
+Dantzig?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>D&eacute;sir&eacute;e shook her head.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It is not I,&rdquo; said Barlasch, &ldquo;who ask the question.&nbsp;
+You understand?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, I understand.&nbsp; My father will not quit Dantzig.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Whereupon Barlasch made a gesture conveying a desire to think as
+kindly of Antoine Sebastian as he could.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;In half an hour,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;when it is dark, will
+you come for a walk with me along the Langfuhr road&mdash;where the
+unfinished ramparts are?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>D&eacute;sir&eacute;e looked at him and hesitated.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh&mdash;good&mdash;if you are afraid&mdash;&rdquo; said Barlasch.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I am not afraid&mdash;I will come,&rdquo; she answered quickly.</p>
+<p>The snow was hard when they set out, and squeaked under their feet,
+as it does with a low thermometer.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;We shall leave no tracks,&rdquo; said Barlasch, as he led
+the way off the Langfuhr road towards the river.&nbsp; There was broken
+ground here, where earthworks had been begun and never completed.&nbsp;
+The trees had been partly cut, and beneath the snow were square mounds
+showing where the timber had been piled up.&nbsp; But since the departure
+of Rapp, all had been left incomplete.</p>
+<p>Barlasch turned towards D&eacute;sir&eacute;e and pointed out a rising
+knoll of land with fir-trees on it&mdash;an outline against the sky
+where a faint aurora borealis lit the north.&nbsp; She understood that
+Louis was waiting there, and must necessarily see them approaching across
+the untrodden snow.&nbsp; For an instant she lingered, and Barlasch
+turning, glanced at her sharply over his shoulder.&nbsp; She had come
+against her will, and her companion knew it.&nbsp; Her feet were heavy
+with misgiving, like the feet of one who treads an uncertain road into
+a strange country.&nbsp; She had been afraid of Louis d&rsquo;Arragon
+when she first caught sight of him in the Frauengasse.&nbsp; The fear
+of him was with her now, and would not depart until he himself swept
+it away by the first word he spoke.</p>
+<p>He came out from beneath the trees, made a few steps forward, and
+then stopped.&nbsp; Again D&eacute;sir&eacute;e lingered, and Barlasch,
+who was naturally impatient, turned and took her by the arm.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Is it the snow&mdash;that you find slippery?&rdquo; he asked,
+not requiring an answer.&nbsp; A moment later Louis came forward.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;There is nothing but bad news,&rdquo; he said laconically.&nbsp;
+&ldquo;Barlasch will have told you; but there is no need to give up
+hope.&nbsp; The army has reached the Niemen; the rearguard has quitted
+Vilna.&nbsp; There is nothing for it but to go and look for him.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Who will go?&rdquo; she asked quietly.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He was looking at her with grave eyes trained to darkness.&nbsp;
+But she looked past him towards the sky, which was faintly lighted by
+the aurora.&nbsp; Her averted eyes and rigid attitude were not without
+some suggestion of guilt.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;My ship is ice-bound at Reval,&rdquo; said D&rsquo;Arragon,
+in a matter-of-fact way.&nbsp; &ldquo;They have no use for me until
+the winter is over, and they have given me three months&rsquo; leave.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;To go to England?&rdquo; she asked.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;To go anywhere I like,&rdquo; he said, with a short laugh.&nbsp;
+&ldquo;So I am going to look for Charles, and Barlasch will come with
+me.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;At a price,&rdquo; put in that soldier, in a shrewd undertone.&nbsp;
+&ldquo;At a price.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;A small one,&rdquo; corrected Louis, turning to look at him
+with the close attention of one exploring a new country.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Bah!&nbsp; You give what you can.&nbsp; One does not go back
+across the Niemen for pleasure.&nbsp; We bargained, and we came to terms.&nbsp;
+I got as much as I could.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Louis laughed, as if this were the blunt truth.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;If I had more, I would give you more.&nbsp; It is the money
+I placed in a Dantzig bank for my cousin.&nbsp; I must take it out again,
+that is all.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The last words were addressed to D&eacute;sir&eacute;e, as if he
+had acted in assurance of her approval.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But I have more,&rdquo; she said; &ldquo;a little&mdash;not
+very much.&nbsp; We must not think of money.&nbsp; We must do everything
+to find him&mdash;to give him help, if he needs it.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; answered Louis, as if she had asked him a question.&nbsp;
+&ldquo;We must do everything; but I have no more money.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And I have none with me.&nbsp; I have nothing that I can sell.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She withdrew her fur mitten and held out her hand, as if to show
+that she had no rings, except the plain gold one on her third finger.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You have the ikon I brought you from Moscow,&rdquo; said Barlasch
+gruffly.&nbsp; &ldquo;Sell that.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No,&rdquo; answered D&eacute;sir&eacute;e; &ldquo;I will not
+sell that.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Barlasch laughed cynically.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;There you have a woman,&rdquo; he said, turning to Louis.&nbsp;
+&ldquo;First she will not have a thing, then she will not part with
+it.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well,&rdquo; said D&eacute;sir&eacute;e, with some spirit,
+&ldquo;a woman may know her own mind.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Some do,&rdquo; admitted Barlasch carelessly; &ldquo;the happy
+ones.&nbsp; And since you will not sell your ikon, I must go for what
+Monsieur le capitaine offers me.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Five hundred francs,&rdquo; said Louis.&nbsp; &ldquo;A thousand
+francs, if we succeed in bringing my cousin safely back to Dantzig.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It is agreed,&rdquo; said Barlasch, and D&eacute;sir&eacute;e
+looked from one to the other with an odd smile of amusement.&nbsp; For
+women do not understand that spirit of adventure which makes the mercenary
+soldier, and urges the sailor to join an exploring expedition without
+hope of any reward beyond his daily pay, for which he is content to
+work and die loyally.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And I,&rdquo; she asked, &ldquo;what am I to do?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;We must know where to find you,&rdquo; replied D&rsquo;Arragon.</p>
+<p>There was so much in the simple answer that D&eacute;sir&eacute;e
+fell into a train of thought.&nbsp; It did not seem much for her to
+do, and yet it was all.&nbsp; For it summed up in six words a woman&rsquo;s
+life: to wait till she is found.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I shall wait in Dantzig,&rdquo; she said at length.</p>
+<p>Barlasch held up his finger close to her face so that she could not
+fail to see it, and shook it slowly from side to side commanding her
+careful and entire attention.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And buy salt,&rdquo; he said.&nbsp; &ldquo;Fill a cupboard
+full of salt.&nbsp; It is cheap enough in Dantzig now.&nbsp; The patron
+will not think of it.&nbsp; He is a dreamer.&nbsp; But a dreamer awakes
+at length, and is hungry.&nbsp; It is I who tell you&mdash;Barlasch.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He emphasized himself with a touch of his curved fingers on either
+shoulder.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Buy salt,&rdquo; he said, and walked away to a rising knoll
+to make sure that no one was approaching.&nbsp; The moon was just below
+the horizon, and a yellow glow was already in the sky.</p>
+<p>D&eacute;sir&eacute;e and Louis were left alone.&nbsp; He was looking
+at her, but she was watching Barlasch with a still persistency.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He said that it is the happy women who know their own minds,&rdquo;
+she said slowly.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I suppose he meant&mdash;Duty,&rdquo; she added at length,
+when Louis made no sign of answering.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; he said.</p>
+<p>Barlasch was beckoning to her.&nbsp; She moved away, but stopped
+a few yards off, and looked at Louis again.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Do you think it is any good trying?&rdquo; she asked, with
+a short laugh.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It is no good trying unless you mean to succeed,&rdquo; he
+answered lightly.&nbsp; She laughed a second time and lingered, though
+Barlasch was calling her to come.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;I am not afraid of you when you
+say things like that.&nbsp; It is what you leave unsaid.&nbsp; I am
+afraid of you, I think, because you expect so much.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She tried to see his face.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I am only an ordinary human being, you know,&rdquo; she said
+warningly.</p>
+<p>Then she followed Barlasch.</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<h2>CHAPTER XVIII.&nbsp; MISSING.</h2>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<i>I should fear those that dance before
+me now<br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Would one day stamp upon me;
+it has been done:<br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Men shut their
+doors against a setting sun.</i></p>
+<p>During the first weeks of December the biting wind abated for a time,
+and immediately the snow came.&nbsp; It fell for days, until at length
+the grey sky seemed exhausted; for the flakes sailed downwards in twos
+and threes like the stragglers of an army bringing up the rear.&nbsp;
+Then the sun broke through again, and all the world was a dazzling white.</p>
+<p>There had been a cessation in that stream of pitiable men who staggered
+across the bridge from the K&ouml;nigsberg road.&nbsp; Some instinct
+had turned it southwards.&nbsp; Now it began again, and the rumour spread
+throughout the city that Rapp was coming.&nbsp; At length, in the middle
+of December, an officer brought word that Rapp with his staff would
+arrive next day.</p>
+<p>D&eacute;sir&eacute;e heard the news without comment.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You do not believe it?&rdquo; asked Mathilde, who had come
+in with shining eyes and a pale face.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh yes, I believe it.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Then you forget,&rdquo; persisted Mathilde, &ldquo;that Charles
+is on the staff.&nbsp; They may arrive to-night.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>While they were speaking Sebastian came in.&nbsp; He looked quickly
+from one to the other.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You have heard the news?&rdquo; he asked.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That the General is coming back?&rdquo; said Mathilde.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No; not that.&nbsp; Though it is true.&nbsp; Macdonald is
+in full retreat on Dantzig.&nbsp; The Prussians have abandoned him&mdash;at
+last.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He gave a queer laugh and stood looking towards the window with restless
+eyes that flitted from one object to another, as if he were endeavouring
+to follow in mind the quick course of events.&nbsp; Then he remembered
+D&eacute;sir&eacute;e and turned towards her.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Rapp returns to-morrow,&rdquo; he said.&nbsp; &ldquo;We may
+presume that Charles is with him.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said D&eacute;sir&eacute;e, in a lifeless voice.</p>
+<p>Sebastian wrinkled his eyes and gave an apologetic laugh.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;We cannot offer him a fitting welcome,&rdquo; he said, with
+a gesture of frustrated hospitality.&nbsp; &ldquo;We must do what we
+can.&nbsp; You and he may, of course, consider this your home as long
+as it pleases you to remain with us.&nbsp; Mathilde, you will see that
+we have such delicacies in the house as Dantzig can now afford&mdash;and
+you, D&eacute;sir&eacute;e, will of course make such preparations as
+are necessary.&nbsp; It is well to remember, he may return . . . to-night.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>D&eacute;sir&eacute;e went towards the door while Mathilde laid aside
+the delicate needlework which seemed to absorb her mind and employ her
+fingers from morning till night.&nbsp; She made a movement as if to
+accompany her sister, but D&eacute;sir&eacute;e shook her head sharply
+and Mathilde remained where she was, leaving D&eacute;sir&eacute;e to
+go upstairs alone.</p>
+<p>The day was already drawing to its long twilight, and at four o&rsquo;clock
+the night came.&nbsp; Sebastian went out as usual, though he had caught
+cold.&nbsp; But Mathilde stayed at home.&nbsp; D&eacute;sir&eacute;e
+sent Lisa to the shops in the Langenmarkt, which is the centre of business
+and gossip in Dantzig.&nbsp; Lisa always brought home the latest news.&nbsp;
+Mathilde came to the kitchen to seek something when the messenger returned.&nbsp;
+She heard Lisa tell D&eacute;sir&eacute;e that a few more stragglers
+had come in, but they brought no news of the General.&nbsp; The house
+seemed lonely now that Barlasch was gone.</p>
+<p>Throughout the night the sound of sleigh-bells could be faintly heard
+through the double windows, though no sleigh passed through the Frauengasse.&nbsp;
+A hundred times the bells seemed to come closer, and always D&eacute;sir&eacute;e
+was ready behind the curtains to see the light flash past into the Pfaffengasse.&nbsp;
+With a shiver of suspense she crept back to bed to await the next alarm.&nbsp;
+In the early morning, long before it was light, the dull thud of steps
+on the trodden snow called her to the window again.&nbsp; She caught
+her breath as she drew back the curtain; for through the long watches
+of the night she had imagined every possible form of return.</p>
+<p>This must be Barlasch.&nbsp; Louis and Barlasch must, of course,
+have met Rapp on his homeward journey.&nbsp; On finding Charles, they
+had sent Barlasch back in advance to announce the safety of D&eacute;sir&eacute;e&rsquo;s
+husband.&nbsp; Louis would, of course, not come to Dantzig.&nbsp; He
+would go north to Russia, to Reval, and perhaps home to England&mdash;never
+to return.</p>
+<p>But it was not Barlasch.&nbsp; It was a woman who staggered past
+under a burden of firewood which she had collected in the woods of Schottland,
+and did not dare to carry through the streets by day.</p>
+<p>At last the clocks struck six, and, soon after, Lisa&rsquo;s heavy
+footstep made the stairs creak and crack.</p>
+<p>D&eacute;sir&eacute;e went downstairs before daylight.&nbsp; She
+could hear Mathilde astir in her room, and the light of candles was
+visible under her door.&nbsp; D&eacute;sir&eacute;e busied herself with
+household affairs.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I have not slept,&rdquo; said Lisa bluntly, &ldquo;for thinking
+that your husband might return, and fearing that we should make him
+wait in the street.&nbsp; But without doubt you would have heard him.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, I should have heard him.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;If it had been my husband, I should have been at the window
+all night,&rdquo; said Lisa, with a gay laugh&mdash;and D&eacute;sir&eacute;e
+laughed too.</p>
+<p>Mathilde seemed a long time in coming, and when at length she appeared
+D&eacute;sir&eacute;e could scarcely repress a movement of surprise.&nbsp;
+Mathilde was dressed, all in her best, as for a <i>f&ecirc;te</i>.</p>
+<p>At breakfast Lisa brought the news told to her at the door that the
+Governor would re-enter the city in state with his staff at midday.&nbsp;
+The citizens were invited to decorate their streets, and to gather there
+to welcome the returning garrison.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And the citizens will accept the invitation,&rdquo; commented
+Sebastian, with a curt laugh.&nbsp; &ldquo;All the world has sneered
+at Russia since the Empire existed&mdash;and yet it has to learn from
+Moscow what part a citizen may play in war.&nbsp; These good Dantzigers
+will accept the invitation.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>And he was right.&nbsp; For one reason or another the city did honour
+to Rapp.&nbsp; Even the Poles must have known by now that France had
+made tools of them.&nbsp; But as yet they could not realize that Napoleon
+had fallen.&nbsp; There were doubtless many spies in the streets that
+cold December day&mdash;one who listened for Napoleon; and another,
+peeping to this side and that, for the King of Prussia.&nbsp; Sweden
+also would need to know what Dantzig thought, and Russia must not be
+ignorant of the gossip in a great Baltic port.</p>
+<p>Enveloped in their stiff sheepskins, concealed by the high collars
+which reached to the brim of their hats&mdash;showing nothing but eyes
+where the rime made old faces and young all alike, it was difficult
+for any to judge of his neighbour&mdash;whether he were Pole or Prussian,
+Dantziger or Swede.&nbsp; The women in thick shawls, with hoods or scarves
+concealing their faces, stood silently beside their husbands.&nbsp;
+It was only the children who asked a thousand questions, and got never
+an answer from the cautious descendants of a Hanseatic people.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Is it the French or the Russians that are coming?&rdquo; asked
+a child near to D&eacute;sir&eacute;e.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Both,&rdquo; was the answer.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But which will come first?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Wait and see&mdash;silentium,&rdquo; replied the careful Dantziger,
+looking over his shoulder.</p>
+<p>D&eacute;sir&eacute;e had changed her clothes, and wore beneath her
+furs the dress that had been prepared for the journey to Zoppot so long
+ago.&nbsp; Mathilde had noticed the dress, which had not been seen for
+six months.&nbsp; Lisa, more loquacious, nodded to it as to a friend
+when helping D&eacute;sir&eacute;e with her furs.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You have changed,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;since you last wore
+it.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I have grown older&mdash;and fatter,&rdquo; answered D&eacute;sir&eacute;e
+cheerfully.</p>
+<p>And Lisa, who had no imagination, seemed satisfied with the explanation.&nbsp;
+But the change was in D&eacute;sir&eacute;e&rsquo;s eyes.</p>
+<p>With Sebastian&rsquo;s permission&mdash;almost at his suggestion&mdash;they
+had selected the Gr&uuml;ne Br&uuml;cke as the point from which to see
+the sight.&nbsp; This bridge spans the Mottlau at the entrance to the
+Langenmarkt, and the roadway widens before it narrows again to pass
+beneath the Gr&uuml;nes Thor.&nbsp; There is rising ground where the
+road spreads like a fan, and here they could see and be seen.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Let us hope,&rdquo; said Sebastian, &ldquo;that two of these
+gentlemen may perceive you as they pass.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>But he did not offer to accompany them.</p>
+<p>By half-past eleven the streets were full.&nbsp; The citizens knew
+their governor, it seemed.&nbsp; He would not keep them waiting.&nbsp;
+Although Rapp lacked that power of appealing to the imagination which
+has survived Napoleon&rsquo;s death with such astounding vitality that
+it moves men&rsquo;s minds to-day as surely as it did a hundred years
+ago, he was shrewd enough to make use of his master&rsquo;s methods
+when such would seem to serve his purpose.&nbsp; He was not going to
+creep into Dantzig like a whipped dog into his kennel.</p>
+<p>He had procured a horse at Elbing.&nbsp; Between that town and the
+Mottlau he had halted to form his army into something like order, to
+get together a staff with which to surround himself.</p>
+<p>But the Dantzigers did not cheer.&nbsp; They stood and watched him
+in a sullen silence as he rode across the bridge now known as the &ldquo;Milk-Can.&rdquo;&nbsp;
+His bridle was twisted round his arm, for all his fingers were frostbitten.&nbsp;
+His nose and his ears were in the same plight, and had been treated
+by a Polish barber who, indeed, effected a cure.&nbsp; One eye was almost
+closed.&nbsp; His face was astonishingly red.&nbsp; But he carried himself
+like a soldier, and faced the world with the audacity that Napoleon
+taught to all his disciples.</p>
+<p>Behind him rode a few staff officers, but the majority were on foot.&nbsp;
+Some effort had been made to revive the faded uniforms.&nbsp; One or
+two heroic souls had cast aside the fur cloaks to which they owed their
+life, but the majority were broken men without spirit, without pride&mdash;appealing
+only to pity.&nbsp; They hugged themselves closely in their ragged cloaks
+and stumbled as they walked.&nbsp; It was impossible to distinguish
+between the officers and the men.&nbsp; The biggest and the strongest
+were the best clad&mdash;the bullies were the best fed.&nbsp; All were
+black and smoke-grimed&mdash;with eyes reddened and inflamed by the
+dazzling snow through which they stumbled by day, as much as by the
+smoke into which they crouched at night.&nbsp; Every garment was riddled
+by the holes burnt by flying sparks&mdash;every face was smeared with
+blood that ran from the horseflesh they had torn asunder with their
+teeth while it yet smoked.</p>
+<p>Some laughed and waved their hands to the crowd.&nbsp; Others, who
+had known the tragedy of Vilna and Kowno, stumbled on in stubborn silence
+still doubting that Dantzig stood&mdash;that they were at last in sight
+of food and warmth and rest.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Is that all?&rdquo; men asked each other in astonishment.&nbsp;
+For the last stragglers had crossed the new Mottlau before the head
+of the procession had reached the Gr&uuml;ne Br&uuml;cke.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;If I had such an army as that,&rdquo; said a stout Dantziger,
+&ldquo;I should bring it into the city quietly, after dusk.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>But the majority were silent, remembering the departure of these
+men&mdash;the triumph, the glory, and the hope.&nbsp; For a great catastrophe
+is a curtain that for a moment shuts out all history and makes the human
+family little children again who can but cower and hold each other&rsquo;s
+hands in the dark.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Where are the guns?&rdquo; asked one.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And the baggage?&rdquo; suggested another.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And the treasure of Moscow?&rdquo; whispered a Jew with cunning
+eyes, who had hidden behind his neighbour when Rapp glanced in his direction.</p>
+<p>Emerging on the bridge, the General glanced at the old Mottlau.&nbsp;
+A crowd was collected on it.&nbsp; The citizens no longer used the bridges
+but crossed without fear where they pleased, and heavy sleighs passed
+up and down as on a high-road.&nbsp; Rapp saw it, made a grimace, and,
+turning in his saddle, spoke to his neighbour, an engineer officer,
+who was to make an immortal name and die in Dantzig.</p>
+<p>The Mottlau was one of the chief defences of the city, but instead
+of a river the Governor found a high-road!</p>
+<p>Rapp alone seemed to look about him with the air of one who knew
+his whereabouts.&nbsp; In the straggling trail of men behind him, not
+one in a hundred looked for a friendly face.&nbsp; Some stared in front
+of them with lifeless eyes, while others, with a little spirit plucked
+up at the end of a weary march, glanced up at the gabled houses with
+the interest called forth by the first sight of a new city.</p>
+<p>It was not until long afterwards that the world, piecing together
+information purposely delayed and details carefully falsified, knew
+that of the four hundred thousand men who marched triumphantly to the
+Niemen, only twenty thousand recrossed that river six months later,
+and of these two-thirds had never seen Moscow.</p>
+<p>Rapp, whose bloodshot eyes searched the crowd of faces turned towards
+him, recognized a number of people.&nbsp; To Mathilde he bowed gravely,
+and with a kindlier glance turned in his saddle to bow again to D&eacute;sir&eacute;e.&nbsp;
+They hardly heeded him, but with colourless faces turned towards the
+staff riding behind him.</p>
+<p>Most of the faces were strange: others were so altered that the features
+had to be sought for as in the face of a mummy.&nbsp; Neither Charles
+nor de Casimir was among the horsemen.&nbsp; One or two of them bowed,
+as their leader had done, to the two girls.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That is Captain de Villars,&rdquo; said Mathilde, &ldquo;and
+the other I do not know.&nbsp; Nor that tall man who is bowing now.&nbsp;
+Who are they?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>D&eacute;sir&eacute;e did not answer.&nbsp; None of these men was
+Charles.&nbsp; Unconsciously holding her two mittened hands at her throat,
+she searched each face.</p>
+<p>They were well placed to see even those who followed on foot.&nbsp;
+Many of them were not French.&nbsp; It would have been easy to distinguish
+Charles or de Casimir among the dark-visaged southerners.&nbsp; D&eacute;sir&eacute;e
+was not conscious of the crowd around her.&nbsp; She heard none of the
+muttered remarks.&nbsp; All her soul was in her eyes.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Is that all?&rdquo; she said at length&mdash;as the others
+had said at the entrance to the town.</p>
+<p>She found she was standing hand-in-hand with Mathilde, whose face
+was like marble.</p>
+<p>At last, when even the crowd had passed away beneath the Gr&uuml;nes
+Thor, they turned and walked home in silence.</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<h2>CHAPTER XIX.&nbsp; KOWNO.</h2>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<i>Distinct
+with footprints yet<br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Of many a mighty
+marcher gone that way.</i></p>
+<p>There are many who overlook the fact that in Northern lands, more
+especially in such plains as Lithuania, Courland, and Poland, travel
+in winter is easier than at any other time of year.&nbsp; The rivers,
+which run sluggishly in their ditch-like beds, are frozen so completely
+that the bridges are no longer required.&nbsp; The roads, in summer
+almost impassable&mdash;mere ruts across the plain&mdash;are for the
+time ignored, and the traveller strikes a bee-line from place to place
+across a level of frozen snow.</p>
+<p>Louis d&rsquo;Arragon had worked out a route across the plain, as
+he had been taught to shape a course across a chart.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;How did you return from Kowno?&rdquo; he asked Barlasch.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Name of my own nose,&rdquo; replied that traveller.&nbsp;
+&ldquo;I followed the line of dead horses.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Then I will take you by another route,&rdquo; replied the
+sailor.</p>
+<p>And three days later&mdash;before General Rapp had made his entry
+into Dantzig&mdash;Barlasch sold two skeletons of horses and a sleigh
+at an enormous profit to a staff officer of Murat&rsquo;s at Gumbinnen.</p>
+<p>They had passed through Rapp&rsquo;s army.&nbsp; They had halted
+at K&ouml;nigsberg to make inquiry, and now, almost in sight of the
+Niemen, where the land begins to heave in great waves, like those that
+roll round Cape Horn, they were asking still if any man had seen Charles
+Darragon.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Where are you going, comrades?&rdquo; a hundred men had paused
+to ask them.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;To seek a brother,&rdquo; answered Barlasch, who, like many
+unprincipled persons, had soon found that a lie is much simpler than
+an explanation.</p>
+<p>But the majority glanced at them stupidly without comment, or with
+only a shrug of their bowed shoulders.&nbsp; They were going the wrong
+way.&nbsp; They must be mad.&nbsp; Between Dantzig and K&ouml;nigsberg
+they had indeed found a few travellers going eastward&mdash;despatch-bearers
+seeking Murat&mdash;spies going northwards to Tilsit, and General Yorck
+still in treaty with his own conscience&mdash;a prominent member of
+the Tugendbund, wondering, like many others, if there were any virtue
+left in the world.&nbsp; Others, again, told them that they were officers
+ordered to take up some new command in the retreating army.</p>
+<p>Beyond K&ouml;nigsberg, however, D&rsquo;Arragon and Barlasch found
+themselves alone on their eastward route.&nbsp; Every man&rsquo;s face
+was set towards the west.&nbsp; This was not an army at all, but an
+endless procession of tramps.&nbsp; Without food or shelter, with no
+baggage but what they could carry on their backs, they journeyed as
+each of us must journey out of this world into that which lies beyond&mdash;alone,
+with no comrade to help them over the rough places or lift them when
+they fell.&nbsp; For there was only one man of all this rabble who rose
+to the height of self-sacrifice, and a persistent devotion to duty.&nbsp;
+And he was coming last of all.</p>
+<p>Many had started off in couples&mdash;with a faithful friend&mdash;only
+to quarrel at last.&nbsp; For it is a peculiarity of the French that
+they can only have one friend at a time.&nbsp; Long ago&mdash;back beyond
+the Niemen&mdash;all friendships had been dissolved, and discipline
+had vanished before that.&nbsp; For when Discipline and a Republic are
+wedded we shall have the millennium.&nbsp; Liberty, they cry: meaning,
+I may do as I like.&nbsp; Equality: I am better than you.&nbsp; Fraternity:
+what is yours is mine, if I want it.</p>
+<p>So they quarrelled over everything, and fought for a place round
+the fire that another had lighted.&nbsp; They burnt the houses in which
+they had passed a night, though they knew that thousands trudging behind
+them must die for lack of this poor shelter.</p>
+<p>At the B&eacute;r&eacute;sina they had fought on the bridge like
+wild animals, and those who had horses trod their comrades underfoot,
+or pushed them over the parapet.&nbsp; Twelve thousand perished on the
+banks or in the river; and sixteen thousand were left behind to the
+mercy of the Cossacks.</p>
+<p>At Vilna the people were terrified at the sight of this inhuman rabble,
+which had commanded their admiration on the outward march.&nbsp; And
+the commander, with his staff, crept out of the city at night, abandoning
+sick, wounded, and fighting men.</p>
+<p>At Kowno they crowded numbly across the bridge, fighting for precedence,
+when they might have walked at leisure across the ice.&nbsp; They were
+no longer men at all, but dumb and driven animals, who fell by the roadside,
+and were stripped by their comrades before the warmth of life had left
+their limbs.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Excuse me, comrade?&nbsp; I thought you were dead,&rdquo;
+said one, on being remonstrated with by a dying man.&nbsp; And he went
+on his way reluctantly, for he knew that in a few minutes another would
+snatch the booty.&nbsp; But for the most part they were not so scrupulous.</p>
+<p>At first D&rsquo;Arragon, to whom these horrors were new, attempted
+to help such as appealed to him, but Barlasch laughed at him.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; he said.&nbsp; &ldquo;Take the medallion, and
+promise to send it to his mother.&nbsp; Holy Heaven&mdash;they all have
+medallions, and they all have mothers.&nbsp; Every Frenchman remembers
+his mother&mdash;when it is too late.&nbsp; I will get a cart.&nbsp;
+By to-morrow we shall fill it with keepsakes.&nbsp; And here is another.&nbsp;
+He is hungry.&nbsp; So am I, comrade.&nbsp; I come from Moscow&mdash;bah!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>And so they fought their way through the stream.&nbsp; They could
+have journeyed by a quicker route&mdash;D&rsquo;Arragon could have steered
+a course across the frozen plain as over a sea&mdash;but Charles must
+necessarily be in this stream.&nbsp; He might be by the wayside.&nbsp;
+Any one of these pitiable objects, half blind, frost-bitten, with one
+limb or another swinging useless, like a snapped branch, wrapped to
+the eyes in filthy furs&mdash;inhuman, horrible&mdash;any one of these
+might be D&eacute;sir&eacute;e&rsquo;s husband.</p>
+<p>They never missed a chance of hearing news.&nbsp; Barlasch interrupted
+the last message of a dying man to inquire whether he had ever heard
+of Prince Eugene.&nbsp; It was startling to learn how little they knew.&nbsp;
+The majority of them were quite ignorant of French, and had scarcely
+heard the name of the commander of their division.&nbsp; Many spoke
+in a language which even Barlasch could not identify.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;His talk is like a coffee-mill,&rdquo; he explained to D&rsquo;Arragon,
+&ldquo;and I do not know to what regiment he belonged.&nbsp; He asked
+me if I was Russki&mdash;I!&nbsp; Then he wanted to hold my hand.&nbsp;
+And he went to sleep.&nbsp; He will wake among the angels&mdash;that
+parishioner.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Not only had no one heard of Charles Darragon, but few knew the name
+of the commander to whose staff he had been attached in Moscow.&nbsp;
+There was nothing for it but to go on towards Kowno, where it was understood
+temporary head-quarters had been established.</p>
+<p>Rapp himself had told D&rsquo;Arragon that officers had been despatched
+to Kowno to form a base&mdash;a sort of rock in the midst of a torrent
+to divert the currents.&nbsp; There had then been a talk of Tilsit,
+and diverting the stream, or part of it towards Macdonald in the north.&nbsp;
+But D&rsquo;Arragon knew that Macdonald was likely to be in no better
+plight than Murat; for it was an open secret in Dantzig that Yorck,
+with four-fifths of Macdonald&rsquo;s army, was about to abandon him.</p>
+<p>The road to Kowno was not to be mistaken.&nbsp; On either side of
+it, like fallen landmarks, the dead lay huddled on the snow.&nbsp; Sometimes
+D&rsquo;Arragon and Barlasch found the remains of a fire, where, amid
+the ashes, the chains and rings showed that a gun-carriage had been
+burnt.&nbsp; The trees were cut and scored where, as a forlorn hope,
+some poor imbecile had stripped the bark with the thought that it might
+burn.&nbsp; Nearly every fire had its grim guardian; for the wounds
+of the injured nearly always mortified when the flesh was melted by
+the warmth.&nbsp; Once or twice, with their ragged feet in the ashes,
+a whole company had never awakened from their sleep.</p>
+<p>Barlasch pessimistically went the round of these bivouacs, but rarely
+found anything worth carrying away.&nbsp; If he recognized a veteran
+by the grizzled hair straggling out of the rags in which all faces were
+enveloped, or perceived some remnant of a Garde uniform, he searched
+more carefully.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;There may be salt,&rdquo; he said.&nbsp; And sometimes he
+found a little.&nbsp; They had been on foot since Gumbinnen, because
+no horse would be allowed by starving men to live a day.&nbsp; They
+existed from day to day on what they found, which was, at the best,
+frozen horse.&nbsp; But Barlasch ate singularly little.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;One thinks of one&rsquo;s digestion,&rdquo; he said vaguely,
+and persuaded D&rsquo;Arragon to eat his portion because it would be
+a sin to throw it away.</p>
+<p>At length D&rsquo;Arragon, who was quick enough in understanding
+rough men, said&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No, I don&rsquo;t want any more.&nbsp; I will throw it away.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>And an hour later, while pretending to be asleep, he saw Barlasch
+get up, and crawl cautiously into the trees where the unsavoury food
+had been thrown.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Provided,&rdquo; muttered Barlasch one day, &ldquo;that you
+keep your health.&nbsp; I am an old man.&nbsp; I could not do this alone.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Which was true, for D&rsquo;Arragon was carrying all the baggage
+now.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;We must both keep our health,&rdquo; answered Louis.&nbsp;
+&ldquo;I have eaten worse things than horse.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I saw one yesterday,&rdquo; said Barlasch, with a gesture
+of disgust; &ldquo;he had three stripes on his arm, too; he was crouching
+in a ditch eating something much worse than horse, mon capitaine.&nbsp;
+Bah!&nbsp; It made me sick.&nbsp; For three sous I would have put my
+heel on his face.&nbsp; And later on at the roadside I saw where he
+or another had played the butcher.&nbsp; But you saw none of these things,
+mon capitaine?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It was by that winding stream where a farm had been burnt,&rdquo;
+said Louis.</p>
+<p>Barlasch glanced at him sideways.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;If we should come to that, mon capitaine . . . . &ldquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;We won&rsquo;t.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>They trudged on in silence for some time.&nbsp; They were off the
+road now, and D&rsquo;Arragon was steering by dead-reckoning.&nbsp;
+Even amid the pine-woods, which seemed interminable, they frequently
+found remains of an encampment.&nbsp; As often as not they found the
+campers huddled over their last bivouac.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But these,&rdquo; said Barlasch, pointing to what looked like
+a few bundles of old clothes, continuing the conversation where he had
+left it after a long silence, as men learn to do who are together day
+and night in some hard enterprise, &ldquo;even these have a woman dinning
+the ears of the good God for them, just as we have.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>For Barlasch&rsquo;s conception of a Deity could not get further
+than the picture of a great Commander who in times of stress had no
+leisure to see that non-commissioned officers did their best for the
+rank and file.&nbsp; Indeed, the poor in all lands rather naturally
+conclude that God will think of carriage-people first.</p>
+<p>They came within sight of Kowno one evening, after a tiring day over
+snow that glittered in a cloudless sun.&nbsp; Barlasch sat down wearily
+against a pine tree, when they first caught sight of a distant church-tower.&nbsp;
+The country is much broken up into little valleys here, through which
+streams find their way to the Niemen.&nbsp; Each river necessitated
+a rapid descent and an arduous climb over slippery snow.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Voil&agrave;,&rdquo; said Barlasch.&nbsp; &ldquo;That is Kowno.&nbsp;
+I am done.&nbsp; Go on, mon capitaine.&nbsp; I will lie here, and if
+I am not dead to-morrow morning, I will join you.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Louis looked at him with a slow smile.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I am tired as you,&rdquo; he said.&nbsp; &ldquo;We will rest
+here until the moon rises.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Already the bare larches threw shadows three times their own length
+on the snow.&nbsp; Near at hand it glittered like a carpet of diamonds,
+while the distance was of a pale blue, merging to grey on the horizon.&nbsp;
+A far-off belt of pines against a sky absolutely cloudless suggested
+infinite space&mdash;immeasurable distance.&nbsp; Nothing was sharp
+and clearly outlined, but hazy, silvery, as seen through a thin veil.&nbsp;
+The sea would seem to be our earthly picture of infinite space, but
+no sea speaks of distance so clearly as the plain of Lithuania&mdash;absolutely
+flat, quite lonely.&nbsp; The far-off belt of pines only leads the eye
+to a shadow beyond, which is another pine-wood; and the traveller walking
+all day towards it knows that when at length he gets there he will see
+just such another on the far horizon.</p>
+<p>Louis sat down wearily beside Barlasch.&nbsp; As far as eye could
+see, they were alone in this grim white world.&nbsp; They had nothing
+to say to each other.&nbsp; They sat and watched the sun go down with
+drawn eyes and a queer stolidity which comes to men in great cold, as
+if their souls were numb.</p>
+<p>As the sun sank, the shadows turned bluer, and all the snow gleamed
+like a lake.&nbsp; The silver tints slowly turned to gold; the greys
+grew darker.&nbsp; The distant lines of pines were almost black now,
+a silhouette against the golden sky.&nbsp; Near at hand the little inequalities
+in the snow loomed blue, like deeper pools in shallow water.</p>
+<p>The sun sank very slowly, moving along the horizon almost parallel
+with it towards two bars of golden cloud awaiting it, the bars of the
+West forming a prison to this poor pale captive of the snows.&nbsp;
+The stems of a few silver-birch near at hand were rosy now, and suddenly
+the snow took a similar tint.&nbsp; At the same moment, a wave of cold
+seemed to sweep across the world.</p>
+<p>The sun went down at length, leaving a brownish-red sky.&nbsp; This,
+too, faded to grey in a few minutes, and a steely cold gripped the world
+as in a vice.</p>
+<p>Louis d&rsquo;Arragon made a sudden effort and rose to his feet,
+beneath which the snow squeaked.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Come,&rdquo; he said.&nbsp; &ldquo;If we stay, we shall fall
+asleep, and then&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Barlasch roused himself and looked sleepily at his companion.&nbsp;
+He had a patch of blue on either cheek.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Come!&rdquo; shouted Louis, as if to a deaf man.&nbsp; &ldquo;Let
+us go on to Kowno, and find out whether he is alive or dead.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<h2>CHAPTER XX.&nbsp; D&Eacute;SIR&Eacute;E&rsquo;S CHOICE.</h2>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<i>Our wills and fates do so contrary
+run,<br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;That our devices still are overthrown.<br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Our
+thoughts are ours, their ends none of our own.</i></p>
+<p>Rapp found himself in a stronghold which was strong in theory only.&nbsp;
+For the frozen river formed the easiest possible approach, instead of
+an insuperable barrier to the enemy.&nbsp; He had an army which was
+a paper army only.</p>
+<p>He had, according to official returns, thirty-five thousand men.&nbsp;
+In reality a bare eight thousand could be collected to show a face to
+the enemy.&nbsp; The rest were sick and wounded.&nbsp; There was no
+national spirit among these men; they hardly had a language in common.&nbsp;
+For they were men from Africa and Italy, from France, Germany, Poland,
+Spain, and Holland.&nbsp; The majority of them were recruits, raw and
+of poor physique.&nbsp; All were fugitives, flying before those dread
+Cossacks whose &ldquo;hurrah! hurrah!&rdquo;&mdash;the Arabic &ldquo;kill!
+kill!&rdquo;&mdash;haunted their fitful sleep at night.&nbsp; They came
+to Dantzig not to fight, but to lie down and rest.&nbsp; They were the
+last of the great army&mdash;the reinforcements dragged to the frontier
+which many of them had never crossed.&nbsp; For those who had been to
+Moscow were few and far between.&nbsp; The army of Moscow had perished
+at Malo-Jaroslavetz, at the B&eacute;r&eacute;sina, in Smolensk and
+Vilna.</p>
+<p>These fugitives had fled to Dantzig for safety; and Rapp in crossing
+the bridge had made a grimace, for he saw that there was no safety here.</p>
+<p>The fortifications had been merely sketched out.&nbsp; The ditches
+were full of snow, the rivers were frozen.&nbsp; All work was at a standstill.&nbsp;
+Dantzig lay at the mercy of the first-comer.</p>
+<p>In twenty-four hours every available smith was at work, forging ice-axes
+and picks.&nbsp; Rapp was going to cut the frozen Vistula and set the
+river free.&nbsp; The Dantzigers laughed aloud.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It will freeze again in a night,&rdquo; they said.&nbsp; And
+it did.&nbsp; So Rapp set the ice-cutters to work again next day.&nbsp;
+He kept boats moving day and night in the water, which ran sluggish
+and thick, like porridge, with the desire to freeze and be still.</p>
+<p>He ordered the engineers to set to work on the abandoned fortifications.&nbsp;
+But the ground was hard like granite, and the picks sprang back in the
+worker&rsquo;s grip, jarring his bones, and making not so much as a
+mark on the surface of the earth.</p>
+<p>Again the Dantzigers laughed.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It is frozen three feet down,&rdquo; they said.</p>
+<p>The thermometer marked between twenty and thirty degrees of frost
+every night now.&nbsp; And it was only December&mdash;only the beginning
+of the winter.&nbsp; The Russians were at the Niemen, daily coming nearer.&nbsp;
+Dantzig was full of sick and wounded.&nbsp; The available troops were
+worn out, frost-bitten, desperate.&nbsp; There were only a few doctors,
+who were without medical stores; no meat, no vegetables, no spirits,
+no forage.</p>
+<p>No wonder the Dantzigers laughed.&nbsp; Rapp, who had to rely on
+Southerners to obey his orders&mdash;Italians, Africans, a few Frenchmen,
+men little used to cold and the hardships of a Northern winter&mdash;Rapp
+let them laugh.&nbsp; He was a medium-sized man, with a bullet-head
+and a round chubby face, a small nose, round eyes, and, if you please,
+side-whiskers.</p>
+<p>Never for a moment did he admit that things looked black.&nbsp; He
+lit enormous bonfires, melted the frozen earth, and built the fortifications
+that had been planned.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I took counsel,&rdquo; he said, long afterwards, &ldquo;with
+two engineer officers whose devotion equalled their brilliancy&mdash;Colonel
+Richemont and General Campredon.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Soldiers might for all time study with advantage the acts of such
+obscure and almost forgotten men as these.&nbsp; For, through them,
+Napoleon was now teaching the world that a fortified place might be
+made stronger than any had hitherto suspected.&nbsp; That he should
+turn round and teach, on the other hand, that a city usually considered
+impregnable could be taken without great loss of life, was only characteristic
+of his splendid genius, which, like a towering tree, grew and grew until
+it fell.</p>
+<p>The days were very short now, and it was dark when the sappers&mdash;whose
+business it was to keep the ice moving in the river at that spot where
+the Government building-yard abuts the river front to-day&mdash;were
+roused from their meditations by a shout on the farther bank.</p>
+<p>They pushed their clumsy boat through the ice, and soon perceived
+against the snowy distance the outline of a man wrapped, swaddled, disguised
+in the heaped-up clothing so familiar to Eastern Europe at this time.&nbsp;
+The joke of seeing a grave artilleryman clad in a lady&rsquo;s ermine
+cloak had long since lost its savour for those who dwelt near the Moscow
+road.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ah! comrade,&rdquo; said one of the boatmen, an Italian who
+spoke French and had learnt his seamanship on the Mediterranean, by
+whose waters he would never idle again.&nbsp; &ldquo;Ah! you are from
+Moscow?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And you, countryman?&rdquo; replied the new-comer, with a
+non-committing readiness, as he stumbled over the gunwale.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And you&mdash;an old man?&rdquo; remarked the Italian, with
+the easy frankness of Piedmont.</p>
+<p>By way of reply, the new-comer held out one hand roughly swathed
+in cloth, and shook it from side to side slowly, taking exception to
+such personal matters on a short acquaintance.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;A week ago, when I quitted Dantzig on a mission to Kowno,&rdquo;
+he said, with a careless air, &ldquo;one could cross the Vistula anywhere.&nbsp;
+I have been walking on the bank for half a league looking for a way
+across.&nbsp; One would think there is a General in Dantzig now.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;There is Rapp,&rdquo; replied the Italian, poling his boat
+through the floating ice.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He will be glad to see me.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The Italian turned and looked over his shoulder.&nbsp; Then he gave
+a curt, derisive laugh.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Barlasch&mdash;of the Old Guard!&rdquo; explained the new-comer,
+with a careless air.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Never heard of him.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Barlasch pushed up the bandage which he still wore over his left
+eye, in order to get a better sight of this phenomenal ignoramus, but
+he made no comment.</p>
+<p>On landing he nodded curtly, at which the boatman made a quick gesture
+and spat.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You have not the price of a glass in your purse, perhaps,&rdquo;
+he suggested.</p>
+<p>Barlasch disappeared in the darkness without deigning a reply.&nbsp;
+Half an hour later he was on the steps of Sebastian&rsquo;s house in
+the Frauengasse.&nbsp; On his way through the streets a hundred evidences
+of energy had caught his attention, for many of the houses were barricaded,
+and palisades were built at the end of the streets running down towards
+the river.&nbsp; The town was busy, and everywhere soldiers passed to
+and fro.&nbsp; Like Samuel, Barlasch heard the bleating of sheep and
+the lowing of oxen in his ears.</p>
+<p>The houses in the Frauengasse were barricaded like others&mdash;many
+of the lower windows were built up.&nbsp; The door of No. 36 was bolted,
+and through the shutters of the upper windows no glimmer of light penetrated
+to the outer darkness of the street.&nbsp; Barlasch knocked and waited.&nbsp;
+He thought he could hear surreptitious movements within the house.&nbsp;
+Again he knocked.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Who is that?&rdquo; asked Lisa just within, on the mat.&nbsp;
+She must have been there all the time.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Barlasch,&rdquo; he replied.&nbsp; And the bolts which he,
+in his knowledge of such matters, himself had oiled, were quickly drawn.</p>
+<p>Inside he found Lisa, and behind her Mathilde and D&eacute;sir&eacute;e.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Where is the patron?&rdquo; he asked, turning to bolt the
+door again.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He is out, in the town,&rdquo; answered D&eacute;sir&eacute;e,
+in a strained voice.&nbsp; &ldquo;Where are you from?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;From Kowno.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Barlasch looked from one face to the other.&nbsp; His own was burnt
+red, and the light of the lamp hanging over his head gleamed on the
+icicles suspended to his eyebrows and ragged whiskers.&nbsp; In the
+warmth of the house his frozen garments began to melt, and from his
+limbs the water dripped to the floor with a sound like rain.&nbsp; Then
+he caught sight of D&eacute;sir&eacute;e&rsquo;s face.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He is alive, I tell you that,&rdquo; he said abruptly.&nbsp;
+&ldquo;And well, so far as we know.&nbsp; It was at Kowno that we got
+news of him.&nbsp; I have a letter.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He opened his cloak, which was stiff like cardboard and creaked when
+he bent the rough cloth.&nbsp; Under his cloak he wore a Russian peasant&rsquo;s
+sheepskin coat, and beneath that the remains of his uniform.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;A dog&rsquo;s country,&rdquo; he muttered, as he breathed
+on his fingers.</p>
+<p>At last he found the letter, and gave it to D&eacute;sir&eacute;e.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You will have to make your choice,&rdquo; he commented, with
+a grimace indicative of a serious situation, &ldquo;like any other woman.&nbsp;
+No doubt you will choose wrong.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>D&eacute;sir&eacute;e went up two steps in order to be nearer the
+lamp, and they all watched her as she opened the letter.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Is it from Charles?&rdquo; asked Mathilde, speaking for the
+first time.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No,&rdquo; answered D&eacute;sir&eacute;e, rather breathlessly.</p>
+<p>Barlasch nudged Lisa, indicated his own mouth, and pushed her towards
+the kitchen.&nbsp; He nodded cunningly to Mathilde, as if to say that
+they were now free to discuss family affairs; and added, with a gesture
+towards his inner man&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Since last night&mdash;nothing.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>In a few minutes D&eacute;sir&eacute;e, having read the letter twice,
+handed it to her sister.&nbsp; It was characteristically short.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;We have found a man here,&rdquo; wrote Louis d&rsquo;Arragon,
+&ldquo;who travelled as far as Vilna with Charles.&nbsp; There they
+parted.&nbsp; Charles, who was ordered to Warsaw on staff work, told
+his friend that you were in Dantzig, and that, foreseeing a siege of
+the city, he had written to you to join him at Warsaw.&nbsp; This letter
+has doubtless been lost.&nbsp; I am following Charles to Warsaw, tracing
+him step by step, and if he has fallen ill by the way, as so many have
+done, shall certainly find him.&nbsp; Barlasch returns to bring you
+to Thorn, if you elect to join Charles.&nbsp; I will await you at Thorn,
+and if Charles has proceeded, we will follow him to Warsaw.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Barlasch, who had watched D&eacute;sir&eacute;e, now followed Mathilde&rsquo;s
+eyes as they passed to and fro over the closely written lines.&nbsp;
+As she neared the end, and her face, upon which deep shadows had been
+graven by sorrow and suspense, grew drawn and hopeless, he gave a curt
+laugh.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;There were two,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;travelling together&mdash;the
+Colonel de Casimir and the husband of&mdash;of la petite.&nbsp; They
+had facilities&mdash;name of God!&mdash;two carriages and an escort.&nbsp;
+In the carriages they had some of the Emperor&rsquo;s playthings&mdash;holy
+pictures, the imperial loot&mdash;I know not what.&nbsp; Besides that,
+they had some of their own&mdash;not furs and candlesticks such as we
+others carried on our backs, but gold and jewellery enough to make a
+man rich all his life.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;How do you know that?&rdquo; asked Mathilde, a dull light
+in her eyes.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&mdash;I know where it came from,&rdquo; replied Barlasch,
+with an odd smile.&nbsp; &ldquo;Allez! you may take it from me.&rdquo;&nbsp;
+And he muttered to himself in the patois of the C&ocirc;tes du Nord.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And they were safe and well at Vilna?&rdquo; asked Mathilde.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes&mdash;and they had their treasure.&nbsp; They had good
+fortune, or else they were more clever than other men; for they had
+the Imperial treasure to escort, and could take any man&rsquo;s horse
+for the carriages in which also they had placed their own treasure.&nbsp;
+It was Captain Darragon who held the appointment, and the other&mdash;the
+Colonel&mdash;had attached himself to him as volunteer.&nbsp; For it
+was at Vilna that the last thread of discipline was broken, and every
+man did as he wished.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;They did not come to Kowno?&rdquo; asked Mathilde, who had
+a clear mind, and that grasp of a situation which more often falls to
+the lot of the duller sex.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;They did not come to Kowno.&nbsp; They would turn south at
+Vilna.&nbsp; It was as well.&nbsp; At Kowno the soldiers had broken
+into the magazines&mdash;the brandy was poured out in the streets.&nbsp;
+The men were lying there, the drunken and the dead all confused together
+on the snow.&nbsp; But there would be no confusion the next morning;
+for all would be dead.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Was it at Kowno that you left Monsieur d&rsquo;Arragon?&rdquo;
+asked D&eacute;sir&eacute;e, in a sharp voice.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No&mdash;no.&nbsp; We quitted Kowno together, and parted on
+the heights above the town.&nbsp; He would not trust me&mdash;monsieur
+le marquis&mdash;he was afraid that I should get at the brandy.&nbsp;
+And he was right.&nbsp; I only wanted the opportunity.&nbsp; He is a
+strong one&mdash;that!&rdquo;&nbsp; And Barlasch held up a warning hand,
+as if to make known to all and sundry that it would be inadvisable to
+trifle with Louis d&rsquo;Arragon.</p>
+<p>He drew the icicles one by one from his whiskers with a wry face
+indicative of great agony, and threw them down on the mat.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well,&rdquo; he said, after a pause, to D&eacute;sir&eacute;e,
+&ldquo;have you made your choice?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>D&eacute;sir&eacute;e was reading the letter again, and before she
+could answer, a quick knock on the front door startled them all.&nbsp;
+Barlasch&rsquo;s face broke into that broad smile which was only called
+forth by the presence of danger.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Is it the patron?&rdquo; he asked in a whisper, with his hand
+on the heavy bolts affixed by that pious Hanseatic merchant who held
+that if God be in the house there is no need of watchmen.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; answered Mathilde.&nbsp; &ldquo;Open quickly.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Sebastian came in with a light step.&nbsp; He was like a man long
+saddled with a burden of which he had at length been relieved.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ah!&nbsp; What news?&rdquo; he asked, when he recognised Barlasch.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Nothing that you do not know already, monsieur,&rdquo; replied
+Barlasch, &ldquo;except that the husband of Mademoiselle is well and
+on the road to Warsaw.&nbsp; Here&mdash;read that.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>And he took the letter from D&eacute;sir&eacute;e&rsquo;s hand.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I knew he would come back safely,&rdquo; said D&eacute;sir&eacute;e;
+and that was all.</p>
+<p>Sebastian read the letter in one quick glance&mdash;and then fell
+to thinking.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It is time to quit Dantzig,&rdquo; said Barlasch quietly,
+as if he had divined the old man&rsquo;s thoughts.&nbsp; &ldquo;I know
+Rapp.&nbsp; There will be trouble&mdash;here, on the Vistula.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>But Sebastian dismissed the suggestion with a curt shake of the head.</p>
+<p>Barlasch&rsquo;s attention had been somewhat withdrawn by a smell
+of cooking meat, to which he opened his nostrils frankly and noisily
+after the manner of a dog.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Then it remains,&rdquo; he said, looking towards the kitchen,
+&ldquo;for Mademoiselle to make her choice.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;There is no choice,&rdquo; replied D&eacute;sir&eacute;e,
+&ldquo;I shall be ready to go with you&mdash;when you have eaten.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Good,&rdquo; said Barlasch, and the word applied as well to
+Lisa, who was beckoning to him.</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<h2>CHAPTER XXI.&nbsp; ON THE WARSAW ROAD.</h2>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<i>Oft expectation fails, and most
+oft there<br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Where it most promises;
+and oft it hits<br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Where hope is coldest
+and despair most sits.</i></p>
+<p>Love, it is said, is blind.&nbsp; But hatred is as bad.&nbsp; In
+Antoine Sebastian hatred of Napoleon had not only blinded eyes far-seeing
+enough in earlier days, but it had killed many natural affections.&nbsp;
+Love, too, may easily die&mdash;from a surfeit or a famine.&nbsp; Hatred
+never dies; it only sleeps.</p>
+<p>Sebastian&rsquo;s hatred was all awake now.&nbsp; It was aroused
+by the disasters that had befallen Napoleon; of which disasters the
+Russian campaign was only one small part.&nbsp; For he who stands above
+all his compeers must expect them to fall upon him should he stumble.&nbsp;
+Napoleon had fallen, and a hundred foes who had hitherto nursed their
+hatred in a hopeless silence were alert to strike a blow should he descend
+within their reach.</p>
+<p>When whole empires had striven in vain to strike, how could a mere
+association of obscure men hope to record its blow?&nbsp; The Tugendbund
+had begun humbly enough; and Napoleon, with that unerring foresight
+which raised him above all other men, had struck at its base.&nbsp;
+For an association in which kings and cobblers stand side by side on
+an equal footing must necessarily be dangerous to its foes.</p>
+<p>Sebastian was not carried off his feet by the great events of the
+last six months.&nbsp; They only rendered him steadier.&nbsp; For he
+had waited a lifetime.&nbsp; It is only a sudden success that dazzles.&nbsp;
+Long waiting nearly always ensures a wise possession.</p>
+<p>Sebastian, like all men absorbed in a great thought, was neglectful
+of his social and domestic obligations.&nbsp; Has it not been shown
+that he allowed Mathilde and D&eacute;sir&eacute;e to support him by
+giving dancing lessons?&nbsp; But he was not the ordinary domestic tyrant
+who is familiar to all&mdash;the dignified father of a family who must
+have the best of everything, whose teaching to his offspring takes the
+form of an unconscious and solemn warning.&nbsp; He did not ask the
+best; he hardly noticed what was offered to him; and it was not owing
+to his demand, but to that feminine spirit of self-sacrifice which has
+ruined so many men, that he fared better than his daughters.</p>
+<p>If he thought about it at all, he probably concluded that Mathilde
+and D&eacute;sir&eacute;e were quite content to give their time and
+thought to the support of himself&mdash;not as their father, but as
+the motive power of the Tugendbund in Prussia.&nbsp; Many greater men
+have made the same mistake, and quite small men with a great name make
+it every day, thinking complacently that it is a privilege to some woman
+to minister to their wants while they produce their immortal pictures
+or deathless books; whereas, the woman would tend him as carefully were
+he a crossing-sweeper, and is only following the dictates of an instinct
+which is loftier than his highest thought and more admirable than his
+most astounding work of art.</p>
+<p>Barlasch had not lived so long in the Frauengasse without learning
+the domestic economy of Sebastian&rsquo;s household.&nbsp; He knew that
+D&eacute;sir&eacute;e, like many persons with kind blue eyes, shaped
+her own course through life, and abided by the result with a steadfastness
+not usually attributed to the light-hearted.&nbsp; He concluded that
+he must make ready to take the road again before midnight.&nbsp; He
+therefore gave a careful and businesslike attention to the simple meal
+set before him by Lisa; and, looking up over his plate, he saw for the
+second time in his life Sebastian hurrying into his own kitchen.</p>
+<p>Barlasch half rose, and then, in obedience to a gesture from Sebastian,
+or remembering perhaps the sturdy Republicanism which he had not learnt
+until middle-age, he sat down again, fork in hand.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You are prepared to accompany Madame Darragon to Thorn?&rdquo;
+inquired Sebastian, inviting his guest by a gesture to make himself
+at home&mdash;scarcely a necessary thought in the present instance.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And how do you propose to make the journey?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>This was so unlike Sebastian&rsquo;s usual method, so far from his
+lax comprehension of a father&rsquo;s duty, that Barlasch paused and
+looked at him with suspicion.&nbsp; With the back of his hand he pushed
+up the unkempt hair which obscured his eyes.&nbsp; This unusual display
+of parental anxiety required looking into.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;From what I could see in the streets,&rdquo; he answered,
+&ldquo;the General will not stand in the way of women and useless mouths
+who wish to quit Dantzig.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That is possible; but he will not go so far as to provide
+horses.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Barlasch gave his companion a quick glance, and returned to his supper,
+eating with an exaggerated nonchalance, as if he were alone.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Will you provide them?&rdquo; he asked abruptly, at length,
+without looking up.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I can get them for you, and can ensure you relays by the way.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Barlasch cut a piece of meat very carefully, and, opening his mouth
+wide, looked at Sebastian over the orifice.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;On one condition,&rdquo; pursued Sebastian quietly; &ldquo;that
+you deliver a letter for me in Thorn.&nbsp; I make no pretence; if it
+is found on you, you will be shot.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Barlasch smiled pleasantly.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The risks are very great,&rdquo; said Sebastian, tapping his
+snuff-box reflectively.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I am not an officer to talk of my honour,&rdquo; answered
+Barlasch, with a laugh.&nbsp; &ldquo;And as for risk&rdquo;&mdash;he
+paused and put half a potato into his mouth&mdash;&ldquo;it is Mademoiselle
+I serve,&rdquo; concluded this uncouth knight with a curt simplicity.</p>
+<p>So they set out at ten o&rsquo;clock that night in a light sleigh
+on high runners, such as may be seen on any winter day in Poland down
+to the present time.&nbsp; The horses were as good as any in Dantzig
+at this date, when a horse was more costly than his master.&nbsp; The
+moon, sailing high overhead through fleecy clouds, found it no hard
+task to light a world all snow and ice.&nbsp; The streets of Dantzig
+were astir with life and the rumble of waggons.&nbsp; At first there
+were difficulties, and Barlasch explained airily that he was not so
+accomplished a whip in the streets as in the open country.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But never fear,&rdquo; he added.&nbsp; &ldquo;We shall get
+there, soon enough.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>At the city gates there was, as Barlasch had predicted, no objection
+made to the departure of a young girl and an old man.&nbsp; Others were
+quitting Dantzig by the same gate, on foot, in sleighs and carts; but
+all turned westward at the cross-roads and joined the stream of refugees
+hurrying forward to Germany.&nbsp; Barlasch and D&eacute;sir&eacute;e
+were alone on the wide road that runs southward across the plain towards
+Dirschau.&nbsp; The air was very cold and still.&nbsp; On the snow,
+hard and dry like white dust, the runners of the sleigh sang a song
+on one note, only varied from time to time by a drop of several octaves
+as they passed over a culvert or some hollow in the road, after which
+the high note, like the sound of escaping steam, again held sway.&nbsp;
+The horses fell into a long steady trot, their feet beating the ground
+with a regular, sleep-inducing thud.&nbsp; They were harnessed well
+forward to a very long pole, and covered the ground with free strides,
+unhampered by any thought of their heels.&nbsp; The snow pattered against
+the cloth stretched like a wind-sail from their flanks to the rising
+front of the sleigh.</p>
+<p>Barlasch sat upright, a thick motionless figure, four-square to the
+cutting wind.&nbsp; He drove with one hand at a time, sitting on the
+other to restore circulation between whiles.&nbsp; It was impossible
+to distinguish the form of his garments, for he was wrapped round in
+a woollen shawl like a mummy, showing only his eyes beneath the ragged
+fur of a sheepskin cap upon which the rime caused by the warmth of the
+horses and his own breath had frozen like a coating of frosted silver.</p>
+<p>D&eacute;sir&eacute;e was huddled down beside him, with her head
+bent forward so as to protect her face from the wind, which seared like
+a hot iron.&nbsp; She wore a hood of white fur lined with a darker fur,
+and when she lifted her face only her eyes, bright and wakeful, were
+visible.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;If you are warm, you may go to sleep,&rdquo; said Barlasch
+in a mumbling voice, for his face was drawn tight and his lips stiffened
+by the cold.&nbsp; &ldquo;But if you shiver, you must stay awake.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>But D&eacute;sir&eacute;e seemed to have no wish for sleep.&nbsp;
+Whenever Barlasch leant forward to peer beneath her hood she looked
+round at him with wakeful eyes.&nbsp; Whenever, to see if she were still
+awake, he gave her an unceremonious nudge, she nudged back again instantly.&nbsp;
+As the night wore on, she grew more wakeful.&nbsp; When they halted
+at a wayside inn, which must have been minutely described to Barlasch
+by Sebastian, and D&eacute;sir&eacute;e accepted the innkeeper&rsquo;s
+offer of a cup of coffee by the fire while fresh horses were being put
+into harness, she was wide awake and looked at Barlasch with a reckless
+laugh as he shook the rime from his eyebrows.&nbsp; In response he frowningly
+scrutinized as much of her face as he could see, and shook his head
+disapprovingly.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You laugh when there is nothing to laugh at,&rdquo; he said
+grimly.&nbsp; &ldquo;Foolish.&nbsp; It makes people wonder what is in
+your mind.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;There is nothing in my mind,&rdquo; she answered gaily.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Then there is something in your heart, and that is worse!&rdquo;
+said Barlasch, which made D&eacute;sir&eacute;e look at him doubtfully.</p>
+<p>They had done forty miles with the same horses, and were nearly halfway.&nbsp;
+For some hours the road had followed the course of the Vistula on the
+high tableland above the river, and would so continue until they reached
+Thorn.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You must sleep,&rdquo; said Barlasch curtly, when they were
+once more on the road.&nbsp; She sat silent beside him for an hour.&nbsp;
+The horses were fresh, and covered the ground at a great pace.&nbsp;
+Barlasch was no driver, but he was skilful with the horses, and husbanded
+their strength at every hill.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;If we go on like this, when shall we arrive?&rdquo; asked
+D&eacute;sir&eacute;e suddenly.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;By eight o&rsquo;clock, if all goes well.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And we shall find Monsieur Louis d&rsquo;Arragon awaiting
+us at Thorn?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Barlasch shrugged his shoulders doubtfully.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He said he would be there,&rdquo; he muttered, and, turning
+in his seat, he looked down at her with some contempt.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That is like a woman,&rdquo; he said.&nbsp; &ldquo;They think
+all men are fools except one, and that one is only to be compared with
+the bon Dieu.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>D&eacute;sir&eacute;e could not have heard the remark, for she made
+no answer and sat silent, leaning more and more heavily against her
+companion.&nbsp; He changed the reins to his other hand, and drove with
+it for an hour after all feeling had left it.&nbsp; D&eacute;sir&eacute;e
+was asleep.&nbsp; She was still sleeping when, in the dim light of a
+late dawn, Barlasch saw the distant tower of Thorn Cathedral.</p>
+<p>They were no longer alone on the road now, but passed a number of
+heavy market-sleighs bringing produce and wood to the town.&nbsp; Barlasch
+had been in Thorn before.&nbsp; D&eacute;sir&eacute;e was still sleeping
+when he turned the horses into the crowded yard of the &ldquo;Drei Kronen.&rdquo;&nbsp;
+The sleighs and carriages were packed side by side as in a warehouse,
+but the stables were empty.&nbsp; No eager host came out to meet the
+travellers.&nbsp; The innkeepers of Thorn had long ceased to give themselves
+that trouble.&nbsp; For the city was on the direct route of the retreat,
+and few who got so far had any money left.</p>
+<p>Slowly and painfully Barlasch unwound himself and disentangled his
+legs.&nbsp; He tried first one and then the other, as if uncertain whether
+he could walk.&nbsp; Then he staggered numbly across the yard to the
+door of the inn.</p>
+<p>A few minutes later D&eacute;sir&eacute;e woke up.&nbsp; She was
+in a room warmed by a great white stove and dimly lighted by candles.&nbsp;
+Some one was pulling off her gloves and feeling her hands to make sure
+that they were not frost-bitten.&nbsp; She looked sleepily at a white
+coffee-pot standing on the table near the candles; then her eyes, still
+uncomprehending, rested on the face of the man who was loosening her
+hood, which was hard with rime and ice.&nbsp; He had his back to the
+candles, and was half-hidden by the collar of his fur coat, which met
+the cap pressed down over his ears.</p>
+<p>He turned towards the table to lay aside her gloves, and the light
+fell on his face.&nbsp; D&eacute;sir&eacute;e was wideawake in an instant,
+and Louis d&rsquo;Arragon, hearing her move, turned anxiously to look
+at her again.&nbsp; Neither spoke for a minute.&nbsp; Barlasch was holding
+his numbed hand against the stove, and was grinding his teeth and muttering
+at the pain of the restored circulation.</p>
+<p>D&eacute;sir&eacute;e shook the icicles from her hood, and they rattled
+like hail on the bare floor.&nbsp; Her hair, all tumbled round her face,
+caught the light of the candles.&nbsp; Her eyes were bright and the
+colour was in her cheeks.&nbsp; D&rsquo;Arragon glanced at her with
+a sudden look of relief, and then turned to Barlasch.&nbsp; He took
+the numbed hand and felt it; then he held a candle close to it.&nbsp;
+Two of the fingers were quite white, and Barlasch made a grimace when
+he saw them.&nbsp; D&rsquo;Arragon began rubbing at once, taking no
+notice of his companion&rsquo;s moans and complaints.</p>
+<p>Without desisting, he looked over his shoulder towards D&eacute;sir&eacute;e,
+but not actually at her face.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I heard last night,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;that the two carriages
+are standing in an inn-yard three leagues beyond this on the Warsaw
+road.&nbsp; I have traced them step by step from Kowno.&nbsp; My informant
+tells me that the escort has deserted, and that the officer in charge,
+Colonel Darragon, was going on alone, with the two drivers, when he
+was taken ill.&nbsp; He is nearly well again, and hopes to continue
+his journey to-morrow or the next day.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>D&eacute;sir&eacute;e nodded her head to signify that she had heard
+and understood.&nbsp; Barlasch gave a cry of pain, and withdrew his
+hand with a jerk.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Enough, enough!&rdquo; he said.&nbsp; &ldquo;You hurt me.&nbsp;
+The life is returning now; a drop of brandy perhaps&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;There is no brandy in Thorn,&rdquo; said D&rsquo;Arragon,
+turning towards the table.&nbsp; &ldquo;There is only coffee.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He busied himself with the cups, and did not look at D&eacute;sir&eacute;e
+when he spoke again.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I have secured two horses,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;to enable
+you to proceed at once, if you are able to.&nbsp; But if you would rather
+rest here to-day&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Let us go on at once,&rdquo; interrupted D&eacute;sir&eacute;e
+hastily.</p>
+<p>Barlasch, crouching against the stove, glanced from one to the other
+beneath his heavy brows, wondering, perhaps, why they avoided looking
+at each other.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You will wait here,&rdquo; said D&rsquo;Arragon, turning towards
+him, &ldquo;until&mdash;until I return.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; was the answer.&nbsp; &ldquo;I will lie on the
+floor here and sleep.&nbsp; I have had enough.&nbsp; I&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Louis left the room to give the necessary orders.&nbsp; When he returned
+in a few minutes, Barlasch was asleep on the floor, and D&eacute;sir&eacute;e
+had tied on her hood again, which concealed her face.&nbsp; He drank
+a cup of coffee and ate some dry bread absent-mindedly, in silence.</p>
+<p>The sound of bells, feebly heard through the double windows, told
+them that the horses were being harnessed.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Are you ready?&rdquo; asked D&rsquo;Arragon, who had not sat
+down; and in response, D&eacute;sir&eacute;e, standing near the stove,
+went towards the door, which he held open for her to pass out.&nbsp;
+As she passed him, she glanced at his face, and winced.</p>
+<p>In the sleigh she looked up at him as if expecting him to speak.&nbsp;
+He was looking straight in front of him.&nbsp; There was, after all,
+nothing to be said.&nbsp; She could see his steady eyes between his
+high collar and the fur cap.&nbsp; They were hard and unflinching.&nbsp;
+The road was level now, and the snow beaten to a gleaming track like
+ice.&nbsp; D&rsquo;Arragon put the horses to a gallop at the town gate,
+and kept them at it.</p>
+<p>In half an hour he turned towards her and pointed with his whip to
+a roof half hidden by some thin pines.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That is the inn,&rdquo; he said.</p>
+<p>In the inn yard he indicated with his whip two travelling-carriages
+standing side by side.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Colonel Darragon is here?&rdquo; he said to the cringing Jew
+who came to meet them; and the innkeeper led the way upstairs.&nbsp;
+The house was a miserable one, evil-smelling, sordid.&nbsp; The Jew
+pointed to a door, and, cringing again, left them.</p>
+<p>D&eacute;sir&eacute;e made a gesture telling Louis to go in first,
+which he did at once.&nbsp; The room was littered with trunks and cases.&nbsp;
+All the treasure had been brought into the sick man&rsquo;s chamber
+for greater safety.</p>
+<p>On a narrow bed near the window a man lay huddled on his side.&nbsp;
+He turned and looked over his shoulder, showing a haggard face with
+a ten-days&rsquo; beard on it.&nbsp; He looked from one to the other
+in silence.</p>
+<p>It was Colonel de Casimir.</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<h2>CHAPTER XXII.&nbsp; THROUGH THE SHOALS.</h2>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<i>I see my way, as birds their trackless
+way.</i></p>
+<p>De Casimir had never seen Louis d&rsquo;Arragon, and yet some dim
+resemblance to his cousin must have introduced the new-comer to a conscience
+not quite easy.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You seek me, Monsieur,&rdquo; he asked, not having recognized
+D&eacute;sir&eacute;e, who stood behind her companion, in her furs.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I seek Colonel Darragon, and was told that we should find
+him in this room.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;May I ask why you seek him in this rather unceremonious manner?&rdquo;
+asked De Casimir, with the ready insolence of his calling and his age.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Because I am his cousin,&rdquo; replied Louis quietly, &ldquo;and
+Madame is his wife.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>D&eacute;sir&eacute;e came forward, her face colourless.&nbsp; She
+caught her breath, but made no attempt to speak.</p>
+<p>De Casimir tried to lift himself on his elbows.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ah! madame,&rdquo; he said.&nbsp; &ldquo;You see me in a sorry
+state.&nbsp; I have been very ill.&rdquo;&nbsp; And he made a gesture
+with one hand, begging her to overlook his unkempt appearance and the
+disorder of his room.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Where is Charles?&rdquo; asked D&eacute;sir&eacute;e curtly.&nbsp;
+She had suddenly realized how intensely she had always disliked De Casimir,
+and distrusted him.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Has he not returned to Dantzig?&rdquo; was the ready answer.&nbsp;
+&ldquo;He should have been there a week ago.&nbsp; We parted at Vilna.&nbsp;
+He was exhausted&mdash;a mere question of over-fatigue&mdash;and at
+his request I left him there to recover and to pursue his way to Dantzig,
+where he knew you would be awaiting him.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He paused and looked from one to the other with quick and furtive
+eyes.&nbsp; He felt himself easily a match for them in quickness of
+perception, in rapid thought, in glib speech.&nbsp; Both were dumb&mdash;he
+could not guess why.&nbsp; But there was a steadiness in D&rsquo;Arragon&rsquo;s
+eyes which rarely goes with dulness of wit.&nbsp; This was a man who
+could be quick at will&mdash;a man to be reckoned with.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You are wondering why I travel under your cousin&rsquo;s name,
+Monsieur,&rdquo; said De Casimir, with a friendly smile.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; returned Louis, without returning the smile.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It is simple enough,&rdquo; explained the sick man.&nbsp;
+&ldquo;At Vilna we found all discipline relaxed.&nbsp; There were no
+longer any regiments.&nbsp; There was no longer staff.&nbsp; There was
+no longer an army.&nbsp; Every man did as he thought best.&nbsp; Many,
+as you know, elected to await the Russians at Vilna, rather than attempt
+to journey farther.&nbsp; Your cousin had been given the command of
+the escort which has now filtered away, like every other corps.&nbsp;
+He was to conduct back to Paris two carriages laden with imperial treasure
+and certain papers of value.&nbsp; Charles did not want to go back to
+Paris.&nbsp; He wished most naturally to return to Dantzig.&nbsp; I,
+on the other hand, desired to go to France; and there place my sword
+once more at the Emperor&rsquo;s service.&nbsp; What more simple than
+to change places?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And names,&rdquo; suggested D&rsquo;Arragon, without falling
+into De Casimir&rsquo;s easy and friendly manner.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;For greater security in passing through Poland and across
+the frontier,&rdquo; explained De Casimir readily.&nbsp; &ldquo;Once
+in France&mdash;and I hope to be there in a week&mdash;I shall report
+the matter to the Emperor as it really happened: namely, that, owing
+to Colonel Darragon&rsquo;s illness, he transferred his task to me at
+Vilna.&nbsp; The Emperor will be indifferent, so long as the order has
+been carried out.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>De Casimir turned to D&eacute;sir&eacute;e as likely to be more responsive
+than this dark-eyed stranger, who listened with so disconcerting a lack
+of comment or sympathy.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;So you see, madame,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;Charles will still
+get the credit for having carried out his most difficult task, and no
+harm is done.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;When did you leave Charles at Vilna?&rdquo; asked she.</p>
+<p>De Casimir lay back on the pillow in an attitude which betrayed his
+weakness and exhaustion.&nbsp; He looked at the ceiling with lustreless
+eyes.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It must have been a fortnight ago,&rdquo; he said at length.&nbsp;
+&ldquo;I was trying to count the days.&nbsp; We have lost all account
+of dates since quitting Moscow.&nbsp; One day has been like another&mdash;and
+all, terrible.&nbsp; Believe me, madame, it has always been in my mind
+that you were awaiting the return of your husband at Dantzig.&nbsp;
+I spared him all I could.&nbsp; A dozen times we saved each other&rsquo;s
+lives.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>In six words D&eacute;sir&eacute;e could have told him all she knew:
+that he was a spy who had betrayed to death and exile many Dantzigers
+whose hospitality had been extended to him as a Polish officer; that
+Charles was a traitor who had gained access to her father&rsquo;s house
+in order to watch him&mdash;though he had honestly fallen in love with
+her.&nbsp; He was in love with her still, and he was her husband.&nbsp;
+It was this thought that broke into her sleep at night, that haunted
+her waking hours.</p>
+<p>She glanced at Louis d&rsquo;Arragon, and held her peace.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Then, Monsieur,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;you have every reason
+to suppose that if Madame returns to Dantzig now, she will find her
+husband there?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>De Casimir looked at D&rsquo;Arragon, and hesitated for an instant.&nbsp;
+They both remembered afterwards that moment of uncertainty.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I have every reason to suppose it,&rdquo; replied De Casimir
+at length, speaking in a low voice, as if fearful of being overheard.</p>
+<p>Louis waited a moment, and glanced at D&eacute;sir&eacute;e, who,
+however, had evidently nothing more to say.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Then we will not trouble you farther,&rdquo; he said, going
+towards the door, which he held open for D&eacute;sir&eacute;e to pass
+out.&nbsp; He was following her when De Casimir called him back.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Monsieur,&rdquo; cried the sick man, &ldquo;Monsieur, one
+moment, if you can spare it.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Louis came back.&nbsp; They looked at each other in silence while
+they heard D&eacute;sir&eacute;e descend the stairs and speak in German
+to the innkeeper who had been waiting there.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I will be quite frank with you,&rdquo; said De Casimir, in
+that voice of confidential friendliness which so rarely failed in its
+effect.&nbsp; &ldquo;You know that Madame Darragon has an elder sister,
+Mademoiselle Mathilde Sebastian?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>De Casimir raised himself on his elbows again, with an effort, and
+gave a short, half shamefaced laugh which was quite genuine.&nbsp; It
+was odd that Mathilde and he, who had walked most circumspectly, should
+both have been tripped up, as it were, by love.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Bah!&rdquo; he said, with a gesture dismissing the subject,
+&ldquo;I cannot tell you more.&nbsp; It is a woman&rsquo;s secret, Monsieur,
+not mine.&nbsp; Will you deliver a letter for me in Dantzig, that is
+all I ask?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I will give it to Madame Darragon to give to Mademoiselle
+Mathilde, if you like; I am not returning to Dantzig,&rdquo; replied
+Louis.&nbsp; But de Casimir shook his head.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I am afraid that will not do,&rdquo; he said doubtfully.&nbsp;
+&ldquo;Between sisters, you understand&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>And he was no doubt right; this man of quick perception.&nbsp; Is
+it not from our nearest relative that our dearest secret is usually
+withheld?</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You cannot find another messenger?&rdquo; asked De Casimir,
+and the anxiety in his face was genuine enough.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I can&mdash;if you wish it.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ah, Monsieur, I shall not forget it!&nbsp; I shall never forget
+it,&rdquo; said the sick man quickly and eagerly.&nbsp; &ldquo;The letter
+is there, beneath that sabretasche.&nbsp; It is sealed and addressed.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Louis found the letter, and went towards the door, as he placed it
+in his pocket.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Monsieur,&rdquo; said De Casimir, stopping him again.&nbsp;
+&ldquo;Your name, if I may ask it, so that I may remember a countryman
+who has done me so great a service.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I am not a countryman; I am an Englishman,&rdquo; replied
+Louis.&nbsp; &ldquo;My name is Louis d&rsquo;Arragon.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ah! I know.&nbsp; Charles has told me, Monsieur le&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>But D&rsquo;Arragon heard no more, for he closed the door behind
+him.</p>
+<p>He found D&eacute;sir&eacute;e awaiting him in the entrance hall
+of the inn, where a fire of pine-logs burnt in an open chimney.&nbsp;
+The walls and low ceiling were black with smoke, the little windows
+were covered with ice an inch thick.&nbsp; It was twilight in this quiet
+room, and would have been dark but for the leaping flames of the fire.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You will go back to Dantzig,&rdquo; he asked, &ldquo;at once?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He carefully avoided looking at her, though he need not have feared
+that she would have allowed her eyes to meet his.&nbsp; And thus they
+stood, looking downward to the fire&mdash;alone in a world that heeded
+them not, and would forget them in a week&mdash;and made their choice
+of a life.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; she answered.</p>
+<p>He stood thinking for a moment.&nbsp; He was quite practical and
+matter-of-fact; and had the air of a man of action rather than of one
+who deals in thoughts, and twists them hither and thither so that good
+is made to look ridiculous, and bad is tricked out with a fine new name.&nbsp;
+He frowned as he looked at the fire with eyes that flitted from one
+object to another, as men&rsquo;s eyes do who think of action and not
+of thought.&nbsp; This was the sailor&mdash;second to none in the shallow
+northern sea, where all marks had been removed, and every light extinguished&mdash;accustomed
+to facing danger and avoiding it, to foresee remote contingencies and
+provide against them, day and night, week in, week out; a sailor, careful
+and intrepid.&nbsp; He had the air of being capable of that concentration
+without which no man can hope to steer a clear course at all.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The horses that brought you from Marienwerder will not be
+fit for the road till to-morrow morning,&rdquo; he said.&nbsp; &ldquo;I
+will take you back to Thorn at once, and&mdash;leave you there with
+Barlasch.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He glanced towards her, and she nodded, as if acknowledging the sureness
+and steadiness of the hand at the helm.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You can start early to-morrow morning, and be in Dantzig to-morrow
+night.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>They stood side by side in silence for some minutes.&nbsp; He was
+still thinking of her journey&mdash;of the dangers and the difficulties
+of that longer journey through life without landmark or light to guide
+her.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And you?&rdquo; she asked curtly.</p>
+<p>He did not reply at once but busied himself with his ponderous fur
+coat, which he buttoned, as if bracing himself for the start.&nbsp;
+Beneath her lashes she looked sideways at the deliberate hands and the
+lean strong face, burnt to a red-brown by sun and snow, half hidden
+in the fur collar of his worn and weather-beaten coat.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;K&ouml;nigsberg,&rdquo; he answered, &ldquo;and Riga.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>A light passed through her watching eyes, usually so kind and gay;
+like the gleam of jealousy.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Your ship?&rdquo; she asked sharply.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; he answered, as the innkeeper came to tell them
+that their sleigh awaited them.</p>
+<p>It was snowing now, and a whistling, fitful wind swept down the valley
+of the Vistula from Poland and the far Carpathians which made the travellers
+crouch low in the sleigh and rendered talk impossible, had there been
+anything to say.&nbsp; But there was nothing.</p>
+<p>They found Barlasch asleep where they had left him in the inn at
+Thorn, on the floor against the stove.&nbsp; He roused himself with
+the quickness and completeness of one accustomed to brief and broken
+rest, and stood up shaking himself in his clothes, like a dog with a
+heavy coat.&nbsp; He took no notice of D&rsquo;Arragon, but looked at
+D&eacute;sir&eacute;e with questioning eyes.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It was not the Captain?&rdquo; he asked.</p>
+<p>And D&eacute;sir&eacute;e shook her head.&nbsp; Louis was standing
+near the door giving orders to the landlady of the inn&mdash;a kindly
+Pomeranian, clean and slow&mdash;for D&eacute;sir&eacute;e&rsquo;s comfort
+till the next morning.</p>
+<p>Barlasch went close to D&eacute;sir&eacute;e, and, nudging her arm
+with exaggerated cunning, whispered&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Who was it?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Colonel de Casimir.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;With the two carriages and the treasure from Moscow?&rdquo;
+asked Barlasch, watching Louis out of the corner of one eye, to make
+sure that he did not hear.&nbsp; It did not matter whether he heard
+or not, but Barlasch came of a peasant stock that always speaks of money
+in a whisper.&nbsp; And when D&eacute;sir&eacute;e nodded, he cut short
+the conversation.</p>
+<p>The hostess came forward to tell D&eacute;sir&eacute;e that her room
+was ready, kindly suggesting that the &ldquo;gn&auml;diges Fra&uuml;lein&rdquo;
+must need sleep and rest.&nbsp; D&eacute;sir&eacute;e knew that Louis
+would go on to K&ouml;nigsberg at once.&nbsp; She wondered whether she
+should ever see him again&mdash;long afterwards, perhaps, when all this
+would seem like a dream.&nbsp; Barlasch, breathing noisily on his frost-bitten
+fingers, was watching them.&nbsp; D&eacute;sir&eacute;e shook hands
+with Louis in an odd silence, and, turning on her heel, followed the
+woman out of the room without looking back.</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<h2>CHAPTER XXIII.&nbsp; AGAINST THE STREAM.</h2>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<i>&nbsp;Wo viel Licht ist, ist starker Schatten.</i></p>
+<p>In the mean time the last of the Great Army had reached the Niemen,
+that narrow winding river in its ditch-like bed sunk below the level
+of the tableland, to which six months earlier the greatest captain this
+world has ever seen rode alone, and, coming back to his officers, said&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Here we cross.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Four hundred thousand men had crossed&mdash;a bare eighty thousand
+lived to pass the bridge again.&nbsp; Twelve hundred cannons had been
+left behind, nearly a thousand in the hands of the enemy, and the remainder
+buried or thrown into those dull rivers whose slow waters flow over
+them to this day.&nbsp; One hundred and twenty-five thousand officers
+and men had been killed in battle, another hundred thousand had perished
+by cold and disaster at the B&eacute;r&eacute;sina or other rivers where
+panic seized the fugitives.</p>
+<p>Forty-eight generals had been captured by the Russians, three thousand
+officers, one hundred and ninety thousand men, swallowed by the silent
+white Empire of the North and no more seen.</p>
+<p>As the retreat neared Vilna the cold had increased, killing men as
+the first cold of an English winter kills flies.&nbsp; And when the
+French quitted Vilna, the Russians were glad enough to seek its shelter,
+Kutusoff creeping in with forty thousand men, all that remained to him
+of two hundred thousand.&nbsp; He could not carry on the pursuit, but
+sent forward a handful of Cossacks to harry the hare-brained few who
+called themselves the rearguard.&nbsp; He was an old man, nearly worn
+out, with only three months more to live&mdash;but he had done his work.</p>
+<p>Ney&mdash;the bravest of the brave&mdash;left alone in Russia at
+the last with seven hundred foreign recruits, men picked from here and
+there, called in from the highways and hedges to share the glory of
+the only Marshal who came back from Moscow with a name untarnished&mdash;Ney
+and Girard, musket in hand, were the last to cross the bridge, shouting
+defiance at their Cossack foes, who, when they had hounded the last
+of the French across the frontier, flung themselves down on the bloodstained
+snow to rest.</p>
+<p>All along the banks of the Vistula, from K&ouml;nigsberg and Dantzig
+up to Warsaw&mdash;that slow river which at the last call shall assuredly
+give up more dead than any other&mdash;the fugitives straggled homewards.&nbsp;
+For the Russians paused at their own frontier, and Prussia was still
+nominally the friend of France.&nbsp; She had still to wear the mask
+for three long months when she should at last openly side with Russia,
+only to be beaten again by Napoleon.</p>
+<p>Murat was at K&ouml;nigsberg with the Imperial staff, left in supreme
+command by the Emperor, and already thinking of his own sunny kingdom
+of the Mediterranean, and the ease and the glory of it.&nbsp; In a few
+weeks he, too, must tarnish his name.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I make over the command to you,&rdquo; he said to Prince Eugene;
+and Napoleon&rsquo;s step-son made an answer which shows, as Eugene
+showed again and again, that contact with a great man makes for greatness.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You cannot make it over to me,&rdquo; he replied.&nbsp; &ldquo;Only
+the Emperor can do that.&nbsp; You can run away in the night, and the
+supreme command will devolve on me the next morning.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>And what Murat did is no doubt known to the learned reader.</p>
+<p>Macdonald, abandoned by Yorck with the Prussian contingent, in great
+peril, alone in the north, was retreating with the remains of the Tenth
+Army Corps, wondering whether K&ouml;nigsberg or Dantzig would still
+be French when he reached them.&nbsp; On his heels was Wittgenstein,
+in touch with St. Petersburg and the Emperor Alexander, communicating
+with Kutusoff at Vilna.&nbsp; And Macdonald, like the Scotchman and
+the Frenchman that he was, turned at a critical moment and rent Wittgenstein.&nbsp;
+Here was another bulldog in that panic-stricken pack, who turned and
+snarled and fought while his companions slunk homewards with their tails
+between their legs.&nbsp; There were three of such breed&mdash;Ney and
+Macdonald, and Prince Eugene de Beauharnais.</p>
+<p>Napoleon was in Paris, getting together in wild haste the new army
+with which he was yet to frighten Europe into fits.&nbsp; And Rapp,
+doggedly fortifying his frozen city, knew that he was to hold Dantzig
+at any cost&mdash;a remote, far-thrown outpost on the Northern sea,
+cut off from all help, hundreds of miles from the French frontier, nearly
+a thousand miles from Paris.</p>
+<p>At Marienwerder, Barlasch and D&eacute;sir&eacute;e found themselves
+in the midst of that bustle and confusion which attends the arrival
+or departure of an army corps.&nbsp; The majority of the men were young
+and of a dark skin.&nbsp; They seemed gay, and called out salutations
+to which Barlasch replied curtly enough.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;They are Italians,&rdquo; said he to his companion; &ldquo;I
+know their talk and their manners.&nbsp; To you and me, who come from
+the North, they are like children.&nbsp; See that one who is dancing.&nbsp;
+It is some f&ecirc;te.&nbsp; What is to-day?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It is New Year&rsquo;s Day,&rdquo; replied D&eacute;sir&eacute;e.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;New Year&rsquo;s Day,&rdquo; echoed Barlasch.&nbsp; &ldquo;Good.&nbsp;
+And we have been on the road since six o&rsquo;clock; and I, who have
+forgotten to wish you&mdash;&rdquo;&nbsp; He paused and called cheerily
+to the horses, which had covered more than forty miles since leaving
+their stable at Thorn.&nbsp; &ldquo;Bon Dieu!&rdquo; he said in a lower
+tone, glancing at her beneath the ice-bound rim of his fur cap, &ldquo;Bon
+Dieu&mdash;what am I to wish you, I wonder?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>D&eacute;sir&eacute;e did not answer, but smiled a little and looked
+straight in front of her.</p>
+<p>Barlasch made a movement of the shoulders and eyebrows indicative
+of a hidden anger.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;We are friends,&rdquo; he asked suddenly, &ldquo;you and I?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;We have been friends since&mdash;that day&mdash;when you were
+married?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; answered D&eacute;sir&eacute;e.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Then between friends,&rdquo; said Barlasch, gruffly; &ldquo;it
+is not necessary to smile&mdash;like that&mdash;when it is tears that
+are there.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>D&eacute;sir&eacute;e laughed.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Would you have me weep?&rdquo; she asked.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It would hurt one less,&rdquo; said Barlasch, attending to
+his horses.&nbsp; They were in the town now, and the narrow streets
+were crowded.&nbsp; Many sick and wounded were dragging themselves wearily
+along.&nbsp; A few carts, drawn by starving horses, went slowly down
+the hill.&nbsp; But there was some semblance of order, and thus men
+had the air and carriage of soldiers under discipline.&nbsp; Barlasch
+was quick to see it.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It is the Fourth Corps.&nbsp; The Viceroy&rsquo;s army.&nbsp;
+They have done well.&nbsp; He is a soldier, who commands them.&nbsp;
+Ah!&nbsp; There is one I know.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He threw the reins to D&eacute;sir&eacute;e, and in a moment he was
+out on the snow.&nbsp; A man, as old, it would seem, as himself, in
+uniform and carrying a musket, was marching past with a few men who
+seemed to be under his orders, though his uniform was long past recognition.&nbsp;
+He did not perceive, for some minutes, that Barlasch was coming towards
+him, and then the process of recognition was slow.&nbsp; Finally, he
+laid aside his musket, and the two old men gravely kissed each other.</p>
+<p>Quite forgetful of D&eacute;sir&eacute;e, they stood talking together
+for twenty minutes.&nbsp; Then they gravely embraced once more, and
+Barlasch returned to the sleigh.&nbsp; He took the reins, and urged
+the horses up the hill without commenting on his encounter, but D&eacute;sir&eacute;e
+could see that he had heard news.</p>
+<p>The inn was outside the town, on the road that follows the Vistula
+northwards to Dirschau and Dantzig.&nbsp; The horses were tired, and
+stumbled on the powdery snow which was heavy, like sand, and of a sandy
+colour.&nbsp; Here and there, by the side of the road, were great stains
+of blood and the remains of a horse that had been killed, and eaten
+raw.&nbsp; The faces of many of the men were smeared with blood, which
+had dried on their cheeks and caked there.&nbsp; Nearly all were smoke-grimed
+and had sore eyes.</p>
+<p>At last Barlasch spoke, with the decisive air of one who has finally
+drawn up a course of action in a difficult position.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He comes from my own country, that man.&nbsp; You heard us?&nbsp;
+We spoke together in our patois.&nbsp; I shall not see him again.&nbsp;
+He has a catarrh.&nbsp; When he coughs there is blood.&nbsp; Alas!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>D&eacute;sir&eacute;e glanced at the rugged face half turned away
+from her.&nbsp; She was not naturally heartless; but she quite forgot
+to sympathize with the elderly soldier who had caught a cold on the
+retreat from Moscow; for his friend&rsquo;s grief lacked conviction.&nbsp;
+Barlasch had heard news which he had decided to keep to himself.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Has he come from Vilna?&rdquo; asked D&eacute;sir&eacute;e.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;From Vilna&mdash;oh yes.&nbsp; They are all from Vilna.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And he had no news&rdquo;&mdash;persisted she, &ldquo;of&mdash;Captain
+Darragon?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;News&mdash;oh no!&nbsp; He is a common soldier, and knows
+nothing of the officers on the staff.&nbsp; We are the same&mdash;he
+and I&mdash;poor animals in the ranks.&nbsp; A little gentleman rides
+up, all sabretasche and gold lace.&nbsp; It is an officer of the staff.&nbsp;
+&lsquo;Go down into the valley and get shot,&rsquo; he says.&nbsp; And&mdash;<i>bon
+jour</i>! we go.&nbsp; No&mdash;no.&nbsp; He has no news, my poor comrade.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>They were at the inn now, and found the huge yard still packed with
+sleighs and disabled carriages, and the stables ostentatiously empty.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Go in,&rdquo; said Barlasch; &ldquo;and tell them who your
+father is&mdash;say Antoine Sebastian and nothing else.&nbsp; I would
+do it myself, but when it is so cold as that, the lips are stiff, and
+I cannot speak German properly.&nbsp; They would find out that I am
+French, and it is no good being French now.&nbsp; My comrade told me
+that in K&ouml;nigsberg, Murat himself was ill-received by the burgomaster
+and such city stuff as that.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>It was as Barlasch foretold.&nbsp; For at the name of Antoine Sebastian
+the innkeeper found horses&mdash;in another stable.</p>
+<p>It would take a few minutes, he said, to fetch them, and in the meantime
+there were coffee and some roast meat&mdash;his own dinner.&nbsp; Indeed,
+he could not do enough to testify his respect for D&eacute;sir&eacute;e,
+and his commiseration for her, being forced to travel in such weather
+through a country infested by starving brigands.</p>
+<p>Barlasch consented to come just within the inner door, but refused
+to sit at the table with D&eacute;sir&eacute;e.&nbsp; He took a piece
+of bread, and ate it standing.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;See you,&rdquo; he said to her when they were left alone,
+&ldquo;the good God has made very few mistakes, but there is one thing
+I would have altered.&nbsp; If He intended us for such a rough life,
+He should have made the human frame capable of going longer without
+food.&nbsp; To a poor soldier marching from Moscow to have to stop every
+three hours and gnaw a piece of horse that has died&mdash;and raw&mdash;it
+is not amusing.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He watched D&eacute;sir&eacute;e with a grudging eye.&nbsp; For she
+was young, and had eaten nothing for six freezing hours.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And for us,&rdquo; he added; &ldquo;what a waste of time!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>D&eacute;sir&eacute;e rose at once with a laugh.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You want to go,&rdquo; she said.&nbsp; &ldquo;Come, I am ready.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; he admitted, &ldquo;I want to go.&nbsp; I am afraid&mdash;name
+of a dog!&nbsp; I am afraid, I tell you.&nbsp; For I have heard the
+Cossacks cry, &lsquo;Hurrah! Hurrah!&rsquo;&nbsp; And they are coming.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ah!&rdquo; said D&eacute;sir&eacute;e, &ldquo;that is what
+your friend told you.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That, and other things.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He was pulling on his gloves as he spoke, and turned quickly on his
+heel when the innkeeper entered the room, as if he had expected one
+of those dread Cossacks of Toula who were half savage.&nbsp; But the
+innkeeper carried nothing more lethal in his hand than a yellow mug
+of beer, which he offered to Barlasch.&nbsp; And the old soldier only
+shook his head.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;There is poison in it,&rdquo; he muttered.&nbsp; &ldquo;He
+knows I am a Frenchman.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Come,&rdquo; said D&eacute;sir&eacute;e, with her gay laugh,
+&ldquo;I will show you that there is no poison in it.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She took the mug and drank, and handed the measure to Barlasch.&nbsp;
+It was a poor thin beer, and Barlasch was not one to hide his opinion
+from the host, to whom he made a reproving grimace when he returned
+the empty mug.&nbsp; But the effect upon him was nevertheless good,
+for he took the reins again with a renewed energy, and called to the
+horses gaily enough.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Allons,&rdquo; he said; &ldquo;we shall reach Dantzig safely
+by nightfall, and there we shall find your husband awaiting us, and
+laughing at us for our foolish journey.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>But being an old man, the beer could not warm his heart for long,
+and he soon lapsed again into melancholy and silence.&nbsp; Nevertheless,
+they reached Dantzig by nightfall, and although it was a bitter twilight&mdash;colder
+than the night itself&mdash;the streets were full.&nbsp; Men stood in
+groups and talked.&nbsp; In the brief time required to journey to Thorn
+something had happened.&nbsp; Something happened every day in Dantzig;
+for when history wakes from her slumber and moves, it is with a heavy
+and restless tread.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What is it?&rdquo; asked Barlasch of the sentry at the town
+gate, while they waited for their passports to be returned to them.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It is a proclamation from the Emperor of Russia&mdash;no one
+knows how it has got here.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And what does he proclaim&mdash;that citizen?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He bids the Dantzigers rise and turn us out,&rdquo; answered
+the soldier, with a grim laugh.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Is that all?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No, comrade, that is not all,&rdquo; was the answer in a graver
+voice.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He proclaims that every Pole who submits now will be forgiven
+and set at liberty; the past, he says, will be committed to an eternal
+oblivion and a profound silence&mdash;those are his words.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ah!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, and half the defenders of Dantzig are Poles&mdash;there
+are your passports&mdash;pass on.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>They drove through the dark streets where men like shadows hurried
+silently about their business.</p>
+<p>The Frauengasse seemed to be deserted when they reached it.&nbsp;
+It was Mathilde who opened the door.&nbsp; She must have been at the
+darkened window, behind the curtain.&nbsp; Lisa had gone home to her
+native village in Sammland in obedience to the Governor&rsquo;s orders.&nbsp;
+Sebastian had not been home all day.&nbsp; Charles had not returned,
+and there was no news of him.</p>
+<p>Barlasch, wiping the snow from his face, watched D&eacute;sir&eacute;e,
+and made no comment.</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<h2>CHAPTER XXIV.&nbsp; MATHILDE CHOOSES.</h2>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<i>But strong is fate, O Love,<br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Who
+makes, who mars, who ends.</i></p>
+<p>D&eacute;sir&eacute;e was telling Mathilde the brief news of her
+futile journey, when a knock at the front door made them turn from the
+stairs where they were standing.&nbsp; It was Sebastian&rsquo;s knock.&nbsp;
+His hours had been less regular of late.&nbsp; He came and went without
+explanation.</p>
+<p>When he had freed his throat from his furs, and laid aside his gloves,
+he glanced hastily at D&eacute;sir&eacute;e, who had kissed him without
+speaking.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And your husband?&rdquo; he asked curtly.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It was not he whom we found at Thorn,&rdquo; she answered.&nbsp;
+There was something in her father&rsquo;s voice&mdash;in his quick,
+sidelong glance at her&mdash;that caught her attention.&nbsp; He had
+changed lately.&nbsp; From a man of dreams he had been transformed into
+a man of action.&nbsp; It is customary to designate a man of action
+as a hard man.&nbsp; Custom is the brick wall against which feeble minds
+come to a standstill and hinder the progress of the world.&nbsp; Sebastian
+had been softened by action, through which his mental energy had found
+an outlet.&nbsp; But to-night he was his old self again&mdash;hard,
+scornful, incomprehensible.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I have heard nothing of him,&rdquo; said D&eacute;sir&eacute;e.</p>
+<p>Sebastian was stamping the snow from his boots.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But I have,&rdquo; he said, without looking up.</p>
+<p>D&eacute;sir&eacute;e said nothing.&nbsp; She knew that the secret
+she had guarded so carefully&mdash;the secret kept by herself and Louis&mdash;was
+hers no longer.&nbsp; In the silence of the next moments she could hear
+Barlasch breathing on his fingers, within the kitchen doorway just behind
+her.&nbsp; Mathilde made a little movement.&nbsp; She was on the stairs,
+and she moved nearer to the balustrade and held to it breathlessly.&nbsp;
+For Charles Darragon&rsquo;s secret was De Casimir&rsquo;s too.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;These two gentlemen,&rdquo; said Sebastian slowly, &ldquo;were
+in the secret service of Napoleon.&nbsp; They are hardly likely to return
+to Dantzig.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Why not?&rdquo; asked Mathilde.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;They dare not.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I think the Emperor will be able to protect his officers,&rdquo;
+said Mathilde.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But not his spies,&rdquo; replied Sebastian coldly.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Since they wore his uniform, they cannot be blamed for doing
+their duty.&nbsp; They are brave enough.&nbsp; They would hardly avoid
+returning to Dantzig because&mdash;because they have outwitted the Tugendbund.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Mathilde&rsquo;s face was colourless with anger, and her quiet eyes
+flashed.&nbsp; She had been surprised into this sudden advocacy, and
+an advocate who displays temper is always a dangerous ally.&nbsp; Sebastian
+glanced at her sharply.&nbsp; She was usually so self-controlled that
+her flashing eyes and quick breath betrayed her.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What do you know of the Tugendbund?&rdquo; he asked.</p>
+<p>But she would not answer, merely shrugging her shoulders and closing
+her thin lips with a snap.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It is not only in Dantzig,&rdquo; said Sebastian, &ldquo;that
+they are unsafe.&nbsp; It is anywhere where the Tugendbund can reach
+them.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He turned sharply to D&eacute;sir&eacute;e.&nbsp; His wits, cleared
+by action, told him that her silence meant that she, at all events,
+had not been surprised.&nbsp; She had, therefore, known already the
+part played by De Casimir and Charles, in Dantzig, before the war.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And you,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;you have nothing to say for
+your husband.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He may have been misled,&rdquo; she said mechanically, in
+the manner of one making a prepared speech or meeting a foreseen emergency.&nbsp;
+It had been foreseen by Louis d&rsquo;Arragon.&nbsp; The speech had
+been, unconsciously, prepared by him.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You mean, by Colonel de Casimir,&rdquo; suggested Mathilde,
+who had recovered her usual quiet.&nbsp; And D&eacute;sir&eacute;e did
+not deny her meaning.&nbsp; Sebastian looked from one to the other.&nbsp;
+It was the irony of Fate that had married one of his daughters to Charles
+Darragon, and affianced the other to De Casimir.&nbsp; His own secret,
+so well kept, had turned in his hand like a concealed weapon.</p>
+<p>They were all startled by Barlasch, who spoke from the kitchen door,
+where he had been standing unobserved or forgotten.&nbsp; He came forward
+to the light of the lamp hanging overhead.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That reminds me . . . &rdquo; he said a second time, and having
+secured their attention, he instituted a search in the many pockets
+of his nondescript clothing.&nbsp; He still wore a dirty handkerchief
+bound over one eye.&nbsp; It served to release him from duty in the
+trenches or work on the frozen fortifications.&nbsp; By this simple
+device, coupled with half a dozen bandages in various parts of his person,
+where a frost-bite or a wound gave excuse, he passed as one of the twenty-five
+thousand sick and wounded who encumbered Dantzig at this time, and were
+already dying at the rate of fifty a day.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;A letter . . . &rdquo; he said, still searching with his maimed
+hand.&nbsp; &ldquo;You mentioned the name of the Colonel de Casimir.&nbsp;
+It was that which recalled to my mind . . . &rdquo;&nbsp; He paused,
+and produced a letter carefully sealed.&nbsp; He turned it over, glancing
+at the seals with a reproving jerk of the head, which conveyed as clearly
+as words a shameless confession that he had been frustrated by them
+. . . &ldquo;this letter.&nbsp; I was told to give it you, without fail,
+at the right moment.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>It could hardly be the case that he honestly thought this moment
+might be so described.&nbsp; But he gave the letter to Mathilde with
+a gesture of grim triumph.&nbsp; Perhaps he was thinking of the cellar
+in the Palace on the Petrovka at Moscow, and the treasure which he had
+found there.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It is from the Colonel de Casimir,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;a
+clever man,&rdquo; he added, turning confidentially to Sebastian, and
+holding his attention by an upraised hand.&nbsp; &ldquo;Oh! . . . a
+clever man.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Mathilde, her face all flushed, tore open the envelope, while Barlasch,
+breathing on his fingers, watched with twinkling eye and busy lips.</p>
+<p>The letter was a long one.&nbsp; Colonel de Casimir was an adept
+at explanation.&nbsp; There was, no doubt, much to explain.&nbsp; Mathilde
+read the letter carefully.&nbsp; It was the first she had ever had&mdash;a
+love-letter in its guise&mdash;with explanations in it.&nbsp; Love and
+explanation in the same breath.&nbsp; Assuredly De Casimir was a daring
+lover.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He says that Dantzig will be taken by storm,&rdquo; she said
+at length, &ldquo;and that the Cossacks will spare no one.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Does it signify,&rdquo; inquired Sebastian in his smoothest
+voice, &ldquo;what Colonel de Casimir may say?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>His grand manner had come back to him.&nbsp; He made a gesture with
+his hand almost suggestive of a ruffle at the wrist, and clearly insulting
+to Colonel de Casimir.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He urges us to quit the city before it is too late,&rdquo;
+continued Mathilde, in her measured voice, and awaited her father&rsquo;s
+reply.&nbsp; He took snuff with a cold smile.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You will not do so?&rdquo; she asked.&nbsp; And by way of
+reply, Sebastian laughed as he dusted the snuff from his coat with his
+pocket-handkerchief.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He asks me to go to Cracow with the Gr&auml;fin, and marry
+him,&rdquo; said Mathilde finally.&nbsp; And Sebastian only shrugged
+his shoulders.&nbsp; The suggestion was beneath contempt.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And . . . ?&rdquo; he inquired with raised eyebrows.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I shall do it,&rdquo; replied Mathilde, defiance shining in
+her eyes.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;At all events,&rdquo; commented Sebastian, who knew Mathilde&rsquo;s
+mind, and met her coldness with indifference, &ldquo;you will do it
+with your eyes open, and not leap in the dark, as D&eacute;sir&eacute;e
+did.&nbsp; I was to blame there; a man is always to blame if he is deceived.&nbsp;
+With you . . .&nbsp; Bah! you know what the man is.&nbsp; But you do
+not know, unless he tells you in that letter, that he is even a traitor
+in his treachery.&nbsp; He has accepted the amnesty offered by the Czar;
+he has abandoned Napoleon&rsquo;s cause; he has petitioned the Czar
+to allow him to retire to Cracow, and there live on his estates.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He has no doubt good reasons for his action,&rdquo; said Mathilde.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Two carriages full,&rdquo; muttered Barlasch, who had withdrawn
+to the dark corner near the kitchen door.&nbsp; But no one heeded him.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You must make your choice,&rdquo; said Sebastian, with the
+coldness of a judge.&nbsp; &ldquo;You are of age.&nbsp; Choose.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I have already chosen,&rdquo; answered Mathilde.&nbsp; &ldquo;The
+Gr&auml;fin leaves to-morrow.&nbsp; I will go with her.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She had, at all events, the courage of her own opinions&mdash;a courage
+not rare in women, however valueless may be the judgment upon which
+it is based.&nbsp; And in fairness it must be admitted that women usually
+have the courage not only of the opinion, but of the consequence, and
+meet it with a better grace than men can summon in misfortune.</p>
+<p>Sebastian dined alone and hastily.&nbsp; Mathilde was locked in her
+room, and refused to open the door.&nbsp; D&eacute;sir&eacute;e cooked
+her father&rsquo;s dinner while Barlasch made ready to depart on some
+vague errand in the town.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;There may be news,&rdquo; he said.&nbsp; &ldquo;Who knows?&nbsp;
+And afterwards the patron will go out, and it would not be wise for
+you to remain alone in the house.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Why not?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Barlasch turned and looked at her thoughtfully over his shoulder.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;In some of the big houses down in the Niederstadt there are
+forty and fifty soldiers quartered&mdash;diseased, wounded, without
+discipline.&nbsp; There are others coming.&nbsp; I have told them we
+have fever in the house.&nbsp; It is the only way.&nbsp; We may keep
+them out; for the Frauengasse is in the centre of the town, and the
+soldiers are not needed in this quarter.&nbsp; But you&mdash;you cannot
+lie as I can.&nbsp; You laugh&mdash;ah!&nbsp; A woman tells more lies;
+but a man tells them better.&nbsp; Push the bolts, when I am gone.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>After his dinner, Sebastian went out, as Barlasch had predicted.&nbsp;
+He said nothing to D&eacute;sir&eacute;e of Charles or of the future.&nbsp;
+There was nothing to be said, perhaps.&nbsp; He did not ask why Mathilde
+was absent.&nbsp; In the stillness of the house, he could probably hear
+her moving in her rooms upstairs.</p>
+<p>He had not been long gone when Mathilde came down, dressed to go
+out.&nbsp; She came into the kitchen where D&eacute;sir&eacute;e was
+doing the work of the absent Lisa, who had reluctantly gone to her home
+on the Baltic coast.&nbsp; Mathilde stood by the kitchen table and ate
+some bread.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The Gr&auml;fin has arranged to quit Dantzig to-morrow,&rdquo;
+she said.&nbsp; &ldquo;I am going to ask her to take me with her.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>D&eacute;sir&eacute;e nodded and made no comment.&nbsp; Mathilde
+went to the door, but paused there.&nbsp; Without looking round, she
+stood thinking deeply.&nbsp; They had grown from childhood together&mdash;motherless&mdash;with
+a father whom neither understood.&nbsp; Together they had faced the
+difficulties of life; the hundred petty difficulties attending a woman&rsquo;s
+life in a strange land, among neighbours who bear the sleepless grudge
+of unsatisfied curiosity.&nbsp; They had worked together for their daily
+bread.&nbsp; And now the full stream of life had swept them together
+from the safe moorings of childhood.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Will you come too?&rdquo; asked Mathilde.&nbsp; &ldquo;All
+that he says about Dantzig is true.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No, thank you,&rdquo; answered D&eacute;sir&eacute;e, gently
+enough.&nbsp; &ldquo;I will wait here.&nbsp; I must wait in Dantzig.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I cannot,&rdquo; said Mathilde, half excusing herself.&nbsp;
+&ldquo;I must go.&nbsp; I cannot help it.&nbsp; You understand?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said D&eacute;sir&eacute;e, and nothing more.</p>
+<p>Had Mathilde asked her the question six months ago, she would have
+said &ldquo;No.&rdquo;&nbsp; But she understood now, not that Mathilde
+could love De Casimir; that was beyond her individual comprehension,
+but that there was no alternative now.</p>
+<p>Soon after Mathilde had gone, Barlasch returned.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;If Mademoiselle Mathilde is going, she will have to go to-morrow,&rdquo;
+he said.&nbsp; &ldquo;Those that are coming in at the gates now are
+the rearguard of the Heudelet Division which was driven out of Elbing
+by the Cossacks three days ago.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He sat mumbling to himself by the fire, and only turned to the supper
+which D&eacute;sir&eacute;e had placed in readiness for him when she
+quitted the room and went upstairs.&nbsp; It was he who opened the door
+for Mathilde, who returned in half an hour.&nbsp; She thanked him absent-mindedly
+and went upstairs.&nbsp; He could hear the sisters talking together
+in a low voice in the drawing-room, which he had never seen, at the
+top of the stairs.</p>
+<p>Then D&eacute;sir&eacute;e came down, and he helped her to find in
+a shed in the yard one of those travelling-trunks which he had recognized
+as being of French manufacture.&nbsp; He took off his boots, and carried
+it upstairs for her.</p>
+<p>It was ten o&rsquo;clock before Sebastian came in.&nbsp; He nodded
+his thanks to Barlasch, and watched him bolt the door.&nbsp; He made
+no inquiry as to Mathilde, but extinguished the lamp, and went to his
+room.&nbsp; He never mentioned her name again.</p>
+<p>Early the next morning, the girls were astir.&nbsp; But Barlasch
+was before them, and when D&eacute;sir&eacute;e came down, she found
+the kitchen fire alight.&nbsp; Barlasch was cleaning a knife, and nodded
+a silent good morning.&nbsp; D&eacute;sir&eacute;e&rsquo;s eyes were
+red, and Barlasch must have noted this sign of grief, for he gave a
+contemptuous laugh, and continued his occupation.</p>
+<p>It was barely daylight when the Gr&auml;fin&rsquo;s heavy, old-fashioned
+carriage drew up in front of the house.&nbsp; Mathilde came down, thickly
+veiled and in her travelling furs.&nbsp; She did not seem to see Barlasch,
+and omitted to thank him for carrying her travelling-trunk to the carriage.</p>
+<p>He stood on the terrace beside D&eacute;sir&eacute;e until the carriage
+had turned the corner into the Pfaffengasse.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Bah!&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;let her go.&nbsp; There is no
+stopping them, when they are like that.&nbsp; It is the curse&mdash;of
+the Garden of Eden.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<h2>CHAPTER XXV.&nbsp; A DESPATCH.</h2>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<i>In counsel it is good to see dangers;
+and in execution not to see them unless they be very great.</i></p>
+<p>Mathilde had told D&eacute;sir&eacute;e that Colonel de Casimir made
+no mention of Charles in his letter to her.&nbsp; Barlasch was able
+to supply but little further information on the matter.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It was given to me by the Captain Louis d&rsquo;Arragon at
+Thorn,&rdquo; he said.&nbsp; &ldquo;He handled it as if it were not
+too clean.&nbsp; And he had nothing to say about it.&nbsp; You know
+his way, for the rest.&nbsp; He says little; but he knows the look of
+things.&nbsp; It seemed that he had promised to deliver the letter&mdash;for
+some reason, who knows what? and he kept his promise.&nbsp; The man
+was not dying by any chance&mdash;that De Casimir?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>And his little sharp eyes, reddened by the smoke of camp-fires, inflamed
+by the glare of sun on snow, searched her face.&nbsp; He was thinking
+of the treasure.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh no!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Was he ill at all?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He was in bed,&rdquo; answered D&eacute;sir&eacute;e, doubtfully.</p>
+<p>Barlasch scratched his head without ceremony, and fell into a long
+train of thought.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Do you know what I think?&rdquo; he said at length.&nbsp;
+&ldquo;I think that De Casimir was not ill at all&mdash;any more than
+I am; I, Barlasch.&nbsp; Not so ill, perhaps, as I am, for I have an
+indigestion.&nbsp; It is always there at the summit of the stomach.&nbsp;
+It is horse without salt.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He paused and rubbed his chest tenderly.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Never eat horse without salt,&rdquo; he put in parenthetically.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I hope never to eat it at all,&rdquo; answered D&eacute;sir&eacute;e.&nbsp;
+&ldquo;What about Colonel de Casimir?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He waved her aside as a babbler who broke in upon his thoughts.&nbsp;
+These seemed to be lodged in his mouth, for, when reflecting, he chewed
+and mumbled with his lips.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Listen,&rdquo; he said at length.&nbsp; &ldquo;This is De
+Casimir.&nbsp; He goes to bed and lets his beard grow&mdash;half an
+inch of beard will keep any man in the hospital.&nbsp; You nod your
+head.&nbsp; Yes; I thought so.&nbsp; He knows that the viceroy, with
+the last of the army, is at Thorn.&nbsp; He keeps quiet.&nbsp; He waits
+in his roadside inn until the last of the army has gone.&nbsp; He waits
+until the Russians come, and to them he hands over the Emperor&rsquo;s
+possessions&mdash;all the papers, the maps, the despatches.&nbsp; For
+that he will be rewarded by the Emperor Alexander, who has already promised
+pardon to all Poles who have taken arms against Russia and now submit.&nbsp;
+De Casimir will be allowed to retain his own baggage.&nbsp; He has no
+loot taken at Moscow&mdash;oh no!&nbsp; Only his own baggage.&nbsp;
+Ah&mdash;that man!&nbsp; See, I spit him out.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>And it is painful to record that he here resorted to graphic illustration.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ah!&rdquo; he went on triumphantly, &ldquo;I know.&nbsp; I
+can see right into the mind of such a man.&nbsp; I will tell you why.&nbsp;
+It is because I am that sort of man myself.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You do not seem to have been so successful&mdash;since you
+are poor,&rdquo; said D&eacute;sir&eacute;e, with a laugh.</p>
+<p>He frowned at her apparently in speechless anger, seeking an answer.&nbsp;
+But for the moment he could think of none, so he turned to the knives
+again, which he was cleaning on a board on the kitchen-table.&nbsp;
+At length he paused and glanced at D&eacute;sir&eacute;e.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And your husband,&rdquo; he said slowly.&nbsp; &ldquo;Remember
+that he is a partner with this De Casimir.&nbsp; They hunt together.&nbsp;
+I know it; for I was in Moscow.&nbsp; Ah! that makes you stand stiffly,
+and push your chin out.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He went on cleaning the knives, and, without looking at her, seemed
+to be speaking his own thoughts aloud.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes!&nbsp; He is a traitor.&nbsp; And he is worse than the
+other; for he is no Pole, but a Frenchman.&nbsp; And if he returns to
+France, the Emperor will say: &lsquo;Where are my despatches, my maps,
+my papers, which were given into your care?&rsquo;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He finished the thought with three gestures, which seemed to illustrate
+the placing of a man against a wall and shooting him.&nbsp; His meaning
+could not be mistaken.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And that is what the patron means when he says that Monsieur
+Charles Darragon will not return to Dantzig.&nbsp; I knew that he meant
+that last night, when he was so angry&mdash;on the mat.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And why did you not tell me?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Barlasch looked at her thoughtfully for a moment, before replying
+slowly and impressively.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Because, if I had told you, you might have decided to quit
+Dantzig with Mademoiselle Mathilde, and go hunting your husband in a
+country overrun by desperate fugitives and untamed Cossacks.&nbsp; And
+I did not want that.&nbsp; I want you here&mdash;in Dantzig; in the
+Frauengasse; in this kitchen; under my hand&mdash;so that I can take
+care of you till the war is over.&nbsp; I&mdash;who speak to you&mdash;Papa
+Barlasch, at your service.&nbsp; And there is not another man in the
+world who will do it so well.&nbsp; No; not one.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>And his eyes flashed as he threw the knives into a drawer.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But why should you do all this for me?&rdquo; asked D&eacute;sir&eacute;e.&nbsp;
+&ldquo;You could have gone home to France&mdash;quite easily&mdash;and
+have left us to our fate here in Dantzig.&nbsp; Why did you not go home?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Barlasch looked at her with surprise, not unmixed with a sudden dumb
+disappointment.&nbsp; He was preparing to go out according to his wont
+immediately after breakfast; for Lisa had unconsciously hit the mark
+when she compared him to a cat.&nbsp; He had the regular and self-contained
+habits of that unobtrusive friend.&nbsp; He buttoned his rough coat
+slowly, and looked round the kitchen with eyes dimly wistful.&nbsp;
+He was very old and ragged and homeless.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Is it not enough,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;that we are friends?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He went towards the door, but came back and warned her by the familiar
+upheld finger not to let her attention wander from his words.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You will be glad yet that I have stayed.&nbsp; It is because
+I speak a little plainly of your husband that you wish me gone.&nbsp;
+Bah!&nbsp; What does it matter?&nbsp; All men are alike.&nbsp; We are
+only men&mdash;not angels.&nbsp; And you can go on loving him all the
+same.&nbsp; You are not particular, you women.&nbsp; You can love anything&mdash;even
+a man like that.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>And he went out muttering anathemas on the hearts of all women.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It seems,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;that a woman can love anything.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Which is true; and a very good thing for some of us.&nbsp; For without
+that Heaven-sent capacity the world could not go on at all.</p>
+<p>It was later in the day when Barlasch made his way into the low and
+smoke-grimed Bier Halle of the Weissen R&ouml;ss&rsquo;l.&nbsp; He must
+have known Sebastian&rsquo;s habits, for he went straight to that corner
+of the great room where the violin-player usually sat.&nbsp; The stout
+waitress&mdash;a country girl of no intelligence, smiled broadly at
+the sight of such a ragged customer as she followed him down the length
+of the sawdust-strewn floor.</p>
+<p>Sebastian&rsquo;s face showed no surprise when he looked up and recognized
+the new-comer.&nbsp; The surrounding tables were empty.&nbsp; It was
+too early in the evening for the regular customers, whose numbers, moreover,
+had been sadly thinned during the last few months.&nbsp; For the peaceful
+Dantzigers, remembering the siege of seven years ago, had mostly fled
+at the first mention of the word.</p>
+<p>Sebastian nodded in answer to Barlasch&rsquo;s somewhat ceremonious
+bow, and by a gesture invited him to be seated on the chair upon which
+he had already laid his hand.&nbsp; The atmosphere of the room was warm,
+and Barlasch laid aside his sheepskin coat, as he had seen the great
+and the rich divest themselves of their sables.&nbsp; He turned sharply
+and caught the waitress with an amused smile still on her face.&nbsp;
+He drew her attention to a little pool of beer on the table, and stood
+until she had made good this lapse in her duty.&nbsp; Then he pointed
+to Sebastian&rsquo;s mug of beer and dismissed her giggling, to get
+one for him of the same size and contents.</p>
+<p>Making sure that there was no one within earshot, he waited until
+Sebastian&rsquo;s dreamy eye met his, and then said&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It is time we understood each other.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>A light of surprise&mdash;passing and half-indifferent&mdash;flashed
+into Sebastian&rsquo;s eyes and vanished again at once when he saw Barlasch
+had meant nothing: made no sign or countersign with his hand.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;By all means, my friend,&rdquo; he answered.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I delivered your letters,&rdquo; said Barlasch, &ldquo;at
+Thorn and at the other places.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I know; I have already had answers.&nbsp; You would be wise
+to forget the incident.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Barlasch shrugged his shoulders.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You were paid,&rdquo; said Sebastian, jumping to a natural
+conclusion.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;A little,&rdquo; admitted Barlasch, &ldquo;a small little&mdash;but
+it was not that.&nbsp; I always get paid in advance, when I can.&nbsp;
+Except by the Emperor.&nbsp; He owes me some&mdash;that citizen.&nbsp;
+It was another question.&nbsp; In the house I am friends with all&mdash;with
+Lisa who has gone&mdash;with Mademoiselle Mathilde who has gone&mdash;with
+Mademoiselle D&eacute;sir&eacute;e, so-called Madame Darragon, who remains.&nbsp;
+With all except you.&nbsp; Why should we not be friends?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But we are friends&mdash;&rdquo; protested Sebastian, with
+a bow.&nbsp; As if in confirmation of the statement, he held out his
+beer-mug, and Barlasch touched it with the rim of his own before drinking.&nbsp;
+Sebastian&rsquo;s attitude, his bow, his manner of drinking, were those
+of the Court; Barlasch was distinctly of the camp.&nbsp; But these were
+strange days, and all society had been turned topsy-turvy by one man.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Then,&rdquo; said Barlasch, licking his lips, &ldquo;let us
+understand one another.&nbsp; You say there will be no siege.&nbsp;
+I say you are wrong.&nbsp; You think that the Dantzigers will rise in
+answer to the Emperor Alexander&rsquo;s proclamations, and turn the
+French out.&nbsp; I say the Dantzigers&rsquo; stomachs are too big.&nbsp;
+I say that Rapp will hold Dantzig, and that the Russians will not take
+it by storm, because they are too weak.&nbsp; There will be a siege,
+and a long one.&nbsp; Are you and Mademoiselle and I going to sit it
+out in the Frauengasse together?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;We shall be honoured to have you as our guest,&rdquo; answered
+Sebastian, with that levity which went before the Revolution, and was
+never understood of the people.</p>
+<p>Barlasch did not understand it.&nbsp; He glanced doubtfully at his
+companion, and sipped his beer.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Then I will begin to-night.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Begin what, my friend?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Barlasch waved aside all petty detail.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;My preparations.&nbsp; I go out about ten o&rsquo;clock&mdash;after
+you are in.&nbsp; I will take the key of the front door, and let myself
+in when I come back.&nbsp; I shall make two journeys.&nbsp; Under the
+kitchen floor is a large hollow space.&nbsp; I fill that with bags of
+corn.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But where will you get the corn, my friend?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I know where to get it&mdash;corn and other things.&nbsp;
+Salt I have already&mdash;enough for a year.&nbsp; Other things I can
+get for three months.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But we have no money to pay for them.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Bah!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You mean you will steal them,&rdquo; suggested Sebastian,
+not without a ring of contempt in his mincing voice.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;A soldier never steals,&rdquo; answered Barlasch, carelessly
+announcing a great truth.</p>
+<p>Sebastian laughed.&nbsp; It was obvious that his mind, absorbed in
+great thought, heeded small things not at all.&nbsp; His companion pushed
+his fur cap to the back of his head, and ruffled his hair forward.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That is not all,&rdquo; he said at length.&nbsp; He looked
+round the vast room, which was almost deserted.&nbsp; The stout waitress
+was polishing pewter mugs at the bar.&nbsp; &ldquo;You say you have
+already had answers to those letters.&nbsp; It is a great organization&mdash;your
+secret society&mdash;whatever it is called.&nbsp; It delivers letters
+all over Prussia&mdash;eh? and Poland perhaps&mdash;or farther still.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Sebastian shrugged one shoulder, and made no answer for some time.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I have already told you,&rdquo; he said impatiently, at length,
+&ldquo;to forget the incident; you were paid.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>By way of reply, the old soldier laboriously emptied his pockets,
+searching the most remote of them for small copper coins.&nbsp; He counted
+slowly and carefully until he had made up a thaler.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But it is not my turn to be paid this time.&nbsp; It is I
+who pay.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He held out his hand with a pound weight of base metal in it, but
+Sebastian refused the money with a sudden assumption of his cold and
+scornful manner, oddly out of keeping with his humble surroundings.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;As between friends&mdash;&rdquo; suggested Barlasch, and,
+on receiving a more decided negative, returned the coins to his pocket,
+not without satisfaction.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I want your friends to pass on a letter for me&mdash;I am
+willing to pay,&rdquo; he said in a whisper.&nbsp; &ldquo;A letter to
+Captain Louis d&rsquo;Arragon&mdash;it concerns the happiness of Mademoiselle
+D&eacute;sir&eacute;e.&nbsp; Do not shake your head.&nbsp; Think before
+you refuse.&nbsp; The letter will be an open one&mdash;six words or
+so&mdash;telling the Captain that his cousin, Mademoiselle&rsquo;s husband,
+is not in Dantzig, and cannot now return here since the last of the
+rearguard entered the city this morning.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Sebastian seemed to be considering the matter, and Barlasch was quick
+to combat possible objections.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The Captain went to K&ouml;nigsberg.&nbsp; He is there now.&nbsp;
+Your friends can easily find him, and give him the letter.&nbsp; It
+is of great importance to Mademoiselle.&nbsp; The Captain is not looking
+for Monsieur Charles Darragon, because he thinks that he is here in
+Dantzig.&nbsp; Colonel de Casimir assured him that Mademoiselle would
+find him here.&nbsp; Where is he&mdash;that Monsieur Charles&mdash;I
+wonder?&nbsp; It is of great importance to Mademoiselle.&nbsp; The Captain
+would perhaps continue his search.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Where is your letter?&rdquo; asked Sebastian.</p>
+<p>By way of reply, Barlasch laid on the table a sheet of paper.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You must write it,&rdquo; he said.&nbsp; &ldquo;My hand is
+injured.&nbsp; I write not badly, you understand.&nbsp; But this evening
+I do not feel that my hand is well enough.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>So, with the sticky, thick ink of the Weissen R&ouml;ss&rsquo;l,
+Sebastian wrote the letter, and Barlasch, forgetting his scholarly acquirements,
+took the pen and made a mark beneath his own name written at the foot
+of it.</p>
+<p>Then he went out, and left Sebastian to pay for the beer.</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<h2>CHAPTER XXVI.&nbsp; ON THE BRIDGE.</h2>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<i>They that are above<br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Have
+ends in everything.</i></p>
+<p>A lame man was standing on the bridge that crosses the Neuer Pregel
+from the Kant Strasse&mdash;which is the centre of the city of K&ouml;nigsberg&mdash;to
+the island known as the Kneiphof.&nbsp; This bridge is called the Kr&auml;mer
+Br&uuml;cke, and may be described as the heart of the town.&nbsp; From
+it on either hand diverge the narrow streets that run along the river
+bank, busy with commerce, crowded with the narrow sleighs that carry
+wood from the Pregel up into the town.</p>
+<p>The wider streets&mdash;such as the Kant Strasse, running downhill
+from the royal castle to the river, and the Kneiph&ouml;f&rsquo;sche
+Langgasse, leading southward to the Brandenburg gate and the great world&mdash;must
+needs make use of the Kr&auml;mer Br&uuml;cke.&nbsp; Here, it may be
+said, every man in the town must sooner or later pass in the execution
+of his daily business, whether he go about it on foot or in a sleigh
+with a pair of horses.&nbsp; Here the idler and those grave professors
+from the University, which was still mourning the death of the aged
+Kant, nearly always passed in their thoughtful and conscientious promenades.</p>
+<p>Here this lame man, a cobbler by trade, plying his quiet calling
+in a house in the Neuer Markt, where the lime-trees grow close to the
+upper windows, had patiently kept watch for three days.&nbsp; He was,
+like many lame men, of an abnormal width and weight.&nbsp; He had a
+large, square, dogged face, which seemed to promise that he would wait
+there till the crack of doom rather than abandon a quest.</p>
+<p>It was very cold&mdash;mid-winter within a few miles of the frozen
+Baltic on the very verge of Russia, at that point where old Europe stretches
+a long arm out into the unknown.&nbsp; The cobbler was wrapped in a
+sheepskin coat, which stood out all round him with the stiffness of
+wood, so that he seemed to be living inside a box.&nbsp; To keep himself
+warm he occasionally limped across from end to end of the bridge, but
+never went farther.&nbsp; At times he leant his arms on the stone wall
+at the Kant Strasse end of the bridge, and looked down into the Lower
+Fish Market, where women from Pillau and the Baltic shores&mdash;mere
+bundles of clothes&mdash;stood over their baskets of fish frozen hard
+like sticks.&nbsp; It was a silent market.&nbsp; One cannot haggle long
+when a minute&rsquo;s exposure to the air will give a frost-bite to
+the end of the nose.&nbsp; The would-be purchaser can scarcely make
+an effective bargain through a fringe of icicles that rattle against
+his lips if he open them.</p>
+<p>The Pregel had been frozen for three months, with only the one temporary
+thaw in November which cost Napoleon so many thousands at his broken
+bridge across the B&eacute;r&eacute;sina.&nbsp; Though no water had
+flowed beneath this bridge, many strange feet had passed across it.</p>
+<p>It had vibrated beneath Napoleon&rsquo;s heavy carriage, under the
+lumbering guns that Macdonald took northward to blockade Riga.&nbsp;
+Within the last few weeks it had given passage to the last of the retreating
+army, a mere handful of heartsick fugitives.&nbsp; Macdonald with his
+staff had been ignominiously driven across it by the Cossacks who followed
+hard after them, the great marshal still wild with rage at the defection
+of Yorck and the Prussian contingent.</p>
+<p>And now the Cossacks on their spare and ill-tempered horses passed
+to and fro, wild men under an untamed leader whose heart was hardened
+to stone by bereavement.&nbsp; The cobbler looked at them with a countenance
+of wood.&nbsp; It was hard to say whether he preferred them to the French,
+or was indifferent to one as to the other.&nbsp; He looked at their
+boots with professional disdain.&nbsp; For all men must look at the
+world from their own standpoint and consider mankind in the light of
+their own interests.&nbsp; Thus those who live on the greed or the vanity,
+or batten on the charity of their neighbour, learn to watch the lips.</p>
+<p>The cobbler, by reason of looking at the lower end of men, attracted
+little attention from the passer-by.&nbsp; He who has his eyes on the
+ground passes unheeded.&nbsp; For the surest way of awakening interest
+is to appear interested.&nbsp; It would seem that this cobbler was waiting
+for a pair of boots not made in K&ouml;nigsberg.&nbsp; And on the third
+day his expressionless black eyes lighted on feet not shod in Poland,
+or France, or Germany, nor yet in square-toed Russia.</p>
+<p>The owner of these far-travelled boots was a lightly-built dark-faced
+man, with eyes quietly ubiquitous.&nbsp; He caught the interested glance
+of the cobbler, and turned to look at him again with the uneasiness
+that is bred of war.&nbsp; The cobbler instantly hobbled towards him.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Will you help a poor man?&rdquo; he said.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Why should I?&rdquo; was the answer, with one hand already
+half out of its thick glove.&nbsp; &ldquo;You are not hungry; you have
+never been starved in your life.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The German was quick enough, but it was not quite the Prussian German.</p>
+<p>The cobbler looked at the speaker slowly.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;An Englishman?&rdquo; he asked.</p>
+<p>And the other nodded.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Come this way.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The cobbler hobbled towards the Kneiphof, where the streets are quiet,
+and the Englishman followed him.&nbsp; At the corner of the Kohl Markt
+he turned and looked, not at the man, but at his boots.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You are a sailor?&rdquo; he said.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I was told to look for an English sailor&mdash;Louis d&rsquo;Arragon.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Then you have found me,&rdquo; was the reply.</p>
+<p>Still the cobbler hesitated.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;How am I to know it?&rdquo; he asked suspiciously.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Can you read?&rdquo; asked D&rsquo;Arragon.&nbsp; &ldquo;I
+can prove who I am&mdash;if I want to.&nbsp; But I am not sure that
+I want to.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh! it is only a letter&mdash;of no importance.&nbsp; Some
+private business of your own.&nbsp; It comes from Dantzig&mdash;written
+by one whose name begins with &lsquo;B.&rsquo;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Barlasch,&rdquo; suggested D&rsquo;Arragon quietly, as he
+took from his pocket a paper which he unfolded and held beneath the
+eyes of the cobbler.&nbsp; It was a passport written in three languages.&nbsp;
+If the man could read, he was not anxious to boast of an accomplishment
+so far above his station; but he glanced at the paper, not without a
+practised skill, to seize the essential parts of it.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, that is the name,&rdquo; he said, searching in his pockets.&nbsp;
+&ldquo;The letter is an open one.&nbsp; Here it is.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>In passing the letter, the man made a scarcely perceptible movement
+of the hand which might have been a signal.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No,&rdquo; said D&rsquo;Arragon, &ldquo;I do not belong to
+the Tugendbund or to any other secret society.&nbsp; We have need of
+no such associations in my country.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The cobbler laughed, not without embarrassment.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You have a quick eye,&rdquo; he said.&nbsp; &ldquo;It is a
+great country, England.&nbsp; I have seen the river full of English
+ships before Napoleon chased you off the seas.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>D&rsquo;Arragon smiled as he unfolded the letter.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He has not done it yet,&rdquo; he said, with that spirit which
+enables mariners of the Anglo-Saxon race to be amused when there is
+a talk of supremacy on the high seas.&nbsp; He read the letter carefully,
+and his face hardened.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I was instructed,&rdquo; said the cobbler, &ldquo;to give
+you the letter, and at the same time to inform you that any assistance
+or facilities you may require will be forth-coming; besides . . . &rdquo;
+he broke off and pointed with his thick, leather-stained finger, &ldquo;that
+writing is not the writing of him who signs.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He who signs cannot write at all.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That writing,&rdquo; went on the cobbler, &ldquo;is a passport
+in any German state.&nbsp; He who carries a letter written in that hand
+can live and travel free anywhere from here to the Rhine or the Danube.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Then I am lucky in possessing a powerful friend,&rdquo; said
+D&rsquo;Arragon, &ldquo;for I know who wrote this letter.&nbsp; I think
+I may say he is a friend of mine.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I am sure of it.&nbsp; I have already been told so,&rdquo;
+said the cobbler.&nbsp; &ldquo;Have you a lodging in K&ouml;nigsberg?&nbsp;
+No?&nbsp; Then you can lodge in my house.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Without awaiting a reply, which he seemed to consider a foregone
+conclusion, he limped down the Kohl Markt towards the steps leading
+to the river, which in winter is a thoroughfare.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I live in the Neuer Markt,&rdquo; he said breathlessly, as
+he laboured onwards.&nbsp; &ldquo;I have waited for you three days on
+that bridge.&nbsp; Where have you been all this time?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Avoiding the French,&rdquo; replied D&rsquo;Arragon curtly.&nbsp;
+Respecting his own affairs he was reticent, as commanders and other
+lonely men must always be.&nbsp; They walked side by side on the dusty
+and trodden ice without further speech.&nbsp; At the steps from the
+river to Neuer Markt, D&rsquo;Arragon gave the lame man his hand, and
+glanced a second time at the fingers which clasped his own.&nbsp; They
+had not been born to toil, but had had it thrust upon them.</p>
+<p>They crossed the Neuer Markt together, and went into that house where
+the linden grows so close as to obscure the windows.&nbsp; And the lodging
+offered to Louis was the room in which Charles Darragon had slept in
+his wet clothes six months earlier.&nbsp; So small is the world in which
+we live, and so narrow are the circles drawn by Fate around human existence
+and endeavour.</p>
+<p>The cobbler having shown his visitor the room, and pointed out its
+advantages, was turning to go when D&rsquo;Arragon, who was laying aside
+his fur coat, seemed to catch his attention, and he paused on the threshold.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;There is French blood in your veins,&rdquo; he said abruptly.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes&mdash;a little.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;So.&nbsp; I thought there must be.&nbsp; You reminded me&mdash;it
+was odd, the way you laid aside your coat&mdash;reminded me of a Frenchman
+who lodged here for one night.&nbsp; He was like you, too, in build
+and face.&nbsp; He was a spy, if you please&mdash;one of the French
+Emperor&rsquo;s secret police.&nbsp; I was new at the work then, but
+still I suspected there was something wrong about him.&nbsp; I took
+his boots&mdash;a pretext of mending them.&nbsp; I locked him in.&nbsp;
+He got out of that window, if you please, without his boots.&nbsp; He
+followed me, and learnt much that he was not meant to know.&nbsp; I
+have since heard it from others.&nbsp; He did the Emperor a great service&mdash;that
+man.&nbsp; He saved his life, I think, from assassination in Dantzig.&nbsp;
+And he did me an ill turn&mdash;but it was my own carelessness.&nbsp;
+I thought to make a thaler by lodging him, and he was tricking me all
+the while.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What was his name?&rdquo; asked D&rsquo;Arragon.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh&mdash;I forgot the name he gave.&nbsp; It was a false one.&nbsp;
+He was disguised as a common soldier&mdash;and he was in reality an
+officer of the staff.&nbsp; But I know the name of the officer to whom
+he wrote his report of his night&rsquo;s lodging here&mdash;his colleague
+in the secret police, it would seem.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ah!&rdquo; said D&rsquo;Arragon, busying himself with his
+haversack.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It was De Casimir&mdash;a Polish name.&nbsp; And in the last
+two days I have heard of him.&nbsp; He has accepted the Emperor&rsquo;s
+amnesty.&nbsp; He has married a beautiful woman, and is living like
+a prince at Cracow.&nbsp; All this since the siege of Dantzig began.&nbsp;
+In time of war there is no moment to lose, eh?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And the other?&nbsp; He who slept in this room.&nbsp; Has
+he passed through K&ouml;nigsberg again?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No, that he has not.&nbsp; If he had, I should have seen him.&nbsp;
+You can believe me, I wanted to see him.&nbsp; I was at my place on
+the bridge all the time&mdash;while the French occupied K&ouml;nigsberg&mdash;when
+the last of them hurried away a month ago with the Cossacks close behind.&nbsp;
+No.&nbsp; I should have seen him, and known him.&nbsp; He is not on
+this side of the Niemen, that fine young gentleman.&nbsp; Now, what
+can I do to help you to-morrow?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You can help me on the way to Vilna,&rdquo; answered D&rsquo;Arragon.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You will never get there.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I will try,&rdquo; said the sailor.</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<h2>CHAPTER XXVII.&nbsp; A FLASH OF MEMORY.</h2>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<i>Nothing can cover his high fame
+but Heaven,<br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;No pyramids set off his
+memories,<br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;But the eternal substance
+of his greatness<br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;To which I leave
+him.</i></p>
+<p>&ldquo;Why I will not let you go out into the streets?&rdquo; said
+Barlasch one February morning, stamping the snow from his boots.&nbsp;
+&ldquo;Why I will not let you go out into the streets?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He turned and followed D&eacute;sir&eacute;e towards the kitchen,
+after having carefully bolted the heavy oaken door which had been strengthened
+as if to resist a siege.&nbsp; D&eacute;sir&eacute;e&rsquo;s face had
+that clear pallor which marks an indoor life; but Barlasch, weather-beaten,
+scorched and wrinkled, showed no sign of having endured a month&rsquo;s
+siege in an overcrowded city.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I will tell you why I will not let you go into the streets.&nbsp;
+Because they are not fit for any woman to go into&mdash;because if you
+walked from here to the Rathhaus you would see sights that would come
+back to you in your sleep, and wake you from it, when you are an old
+woman.&nbsp; Do you know what they do with their dead?&nbsp; They throw
+them outside their doors&mdash;with nothing to cover their starved nakedness&mdash;as
+Lisa put her ashes in the street every morning.&nbsp; And the cart goes
+round, as the dustman&rsquo;s cart used to go in times of peace, and,
+like the dustman&rsquo;s cart, it drops part of its load, and the dust
+that blows round it is the infection of typhus.&nbsp; That is why you
+cannot go into the streets.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He unbuttoned his fur coat and displayed a smart new uniform; for
+Rapp had put his miserable army into new clothes, with which many of
+the Dantzig warehouses had been filled by Napoleon&rsquo;s order at
+the beginning of the war.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;There,&rdquo; he said, laying a small parcel on the table,
+&ldquo;there is my daily ration.&nbsp; Two ounces of horse, one ounce
+of salt beef, the same as yesterday.&nbsp; One does not know how long
+we shall be treated so generously.&nbsp; Let us keep the beef&mdash;we
+may come to want some day.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>And giving a hoarse laugh, he lifted a board in the floor, beneath
+which he hoarded his stores.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Will you cook your <i>d&eacute;jeuner</i> yourself,&rdquo;
+asked D&eacute;sir&eacute;e.&nbsp; &ldquo;I have something else for
+my father.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And what have you?&rdquo; asked Barlasch curtly; &ldquo;you
+are not keeping anything hidden from me?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No,&rdquo; answered D&eacute;sir&eacute;e, with a laugh at
+the sternness of his face, &ldquo;I will give him a piece of the ham
+which was left over from last night.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Left over?&rdquo; echoed Barlasch, going close to her and
+looking up into her face, for she was two inches taller than he.&nbsp;
+&ldquo;Left over?&nbsp; Then you did not eat your supper last night?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Neither did you eat yours, for it is there under the floor.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Barlasch turned away with a gesture of despair.&nbsp; He sat down
+in the high armchair that stood on the hearth, and tapped on the floor
+with one foot in pessimistic thought.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ah! the women, the women,&rdquo; he muttered, looking into
+the smouldering fire.&nbsp; &ldquo;Lies&mdash;all lies.&nbsp; You said
+that your supper was very nice,&rdquo; he shouted at her over his shoulder.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;So it was,&rdquo; answered she gaily, &ldquo;so it is still.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Barlasch did not rise to her lighter humour.&nbsp; He sat in reflection
+for some minutes.&nbsp; Then his thoughts took their usual form of a
+muttered aside.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It is a case of compromise.&nbsp; Always like that.&nbsp;
+The good God had to compromise with the first woman he created almost
+at once.&nbsp; And men have done it ever since&mdash;and have never
+had the best of it.&nbsp; See here,&rdquo; he said aloud, turning to
+D&eacute;sir&eacute;e, &ldquo;I will make a bargain with you.&nbsp;
+I will eat my last night&rsquo;s supper here at this table, now, if
+you will eat yours.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Agreed.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Are you hungry?&rdquo; asked Barlasch, when the scanty meal
+was set out before him.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;So am I.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He laughed quite gaily now, and the meal was not without a certain
+air of festivity, though it consisted of nothing better than two ounces
+of horse and half an ounce of ham eaten in company of that rye-bread
+made with one-third part of straw which Rapp allowed the citizens to
+buy.</p>
+<p>For Rapp had first tamed his army, and was now taming the Dantzigers.&nbsp;
+He had effected discipline in his own camp by getting his regiments
+into shape, by establishing hospitals (which were immediately filled),
+and by protecting the citizens from the depredations of the starving
+fugitives who had been poured pell-mell into the town.</p>
+<p>Then he turned his attention to the Dantzigers, who were openly or
+secretly opposed to him.&nbsp; He seized their churches and turned them
+into stores; their schools he used for hospitals, their monasteries
+for barracks.&nbsp; He broke into their cellars, and took the wine for
+the sick.&nbsp; Their storehouses he placed under the strictest guard,
+and no man could claim possession of his own goods.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;We are,&rdquo; he said in effect, with that grim Alsatian
+humour which the Prussians were slow to understand; &ldquo;we are one
+united family in a narrow house, and it is I who keep the storeroom
+key.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Barlasch had proved to be no false prophet.&nbsp; His secret store
+escaped the vigilance of the picket, whom he himself conducted to the
+cellars in the Frauengasse.&nbsp; Although he was sparing enough, he
+could always provide D&eacute;sir&eacute;e with anything for which she
+expressed a wish, and even forestalled those which she left unspoken.&nbsp;
+In return he looked for absolute obedience, and after their frugal breakfast
+he took her to task for depriving herself of such food as they could
+afford.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;See you,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;a siege is a question of the
+stomach.&nbsp; It is not the Russians we have to fight; for they will
+not fight.&nbsp; They sit outside and wait for us to die of cold, of
+starvation, of typhus.&nbsp; And we are obliging them at the rate of
+two hundred a day.&nbsp; Yes, each day Rapp is relieved of the responsibility
+of two hundred mouths that drop open and require nothing more.&nbsp;
+Be greedy&mdash;eat all you have, and hope for release to-morrow, and
+you die.&nbsp; Be sparing&mdash;starve yourself from parsimony or for
+the love of some one who will eat your share and forget to thank you,
+and you will die of typhus.&nbsp; Be careful, and patient, and selfish&mdash;eat
+a little, take what exercise you can, cook your food carefully with
+salt, and you will live.&nbsp; I was in a siege thirty years before
+you were born, and I am alive yet, after many others.&nbsp; Obey me
+and we will get through the siege of Dantzig, which is only just beginning.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Then suddenly he gave way to anger, and banged his hand down on the
+table.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But, sacred name of thunder, do not make me believe you have
+eaten when you have not,&rdquo; he shouted.&nbsp; &ldquo;Never do that.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Carried away by the importance of this question, he said many things
+which cannot be set before the eyes of a generation sensitive to plainness
+of speech, and only tolerant of it in suggestions of impropriety.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And the patron,&rdquo; he ended abruptly, &ldquo;how is he?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He is not very well,&rdquo; answered D&eacute;sir&eacute;e.&nbsp;
+Which answer did not satisfy Barlasch, who insisted on taking off his
+boots, and going upstairs to see Sebastian.</p>
+<p>It was a mere nothing, the invalid said.&nbsp; Such food did not
+suit him.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You have been accustomed to live well all your life,&rdquo;
+answered Barlasch, looking at him with the puzzled light of a baffled
+memory in his eye which always came when he looked at D&eacute;sir&eacute;e&rsquo;s
+father.&nbsp; &ldquo;One must see what can be done.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>And he went out forthwith to return after an hour and more with a
+chicken freshly killed.&nbsp; D&eacute;sir&eacute;e did not ask him
+where he had procured it.&nbsp; She had given up such inquiries, for
+Barlasch always confessed quite bluntly to theft, and she did not know
+whether to believe him or not.</p>
+<p>But the change of diet had no beneficial effect, and the next day
+D&eacute;sir&eacute;e sent Barlasch to the house of the doctor whose
+practice lay in the Frauengasse.&nbsp; He came and shook his head bluntly.&nbsp;
+For even an old doctor may be hardened at the end of his life by an
+orgy, as it were, of death.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I could cure him,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;if there were no
+Russians outside the walls; if I could give him fresh milk and good
+brandy and strong soup.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>But even Barlasch could not find milk in Dantzig.&nbsp; The brandy
+was forthcoming, and the fresh meat; the soup D&eacute;sir&eacute;e
+made with her own hands.&nbsp; Sebastian had not been the same man since
+the closing of the roads and the gradual death of his hopes that the
+Dantzigers would rise against the soldiers that thronged their streets.&nbsp;
+At one time it would have been easy to carry out such a movement, and
+to throw themselves and their city upon the mercy of the Russians.&nbsp;
+But Dantzig awoke to this possibility too late, when Rapp&rsquo;s iron
+hand had closed in upon it.&nbsp; He knew his own strength so well that
+he treated with a contemptuous leniency such citizens as were convicted
+of communicating with the enemy.</p>
+<p>Sebastian&rsquo;s friends seemed to have deserted him.&nbsp; Perhaps
+it was not discreet to be seen in the company of one who had come under
+Napoleon&rsquo;s displeasure.&nbsp; Some had quitted the city after
+hurriedly concealing their valuables in their gardens, behind the chimneys,
+beneath the floors, where it is to be supposed they still lie hidden.&nbsp;
+Others were among the weekly thousand or twelve hundred who were carted
+out by the Oliva Gate to be thrown into huge trenches, while the waiting
+Russians watched from their lines on the heights of Langfuhr.</p>
+<p>It was true that news continued to filter in, and never quite ceased,
+all through the terrible twelve months that were to follow.&nbsp; More
+especially did news that was unfavourable to the French find its way
+into the beleaguered city.&nbsp; But it was not authentic news, and
+Sebastian gathered little comfort from the fact&mdash;not unknown to
+the whispering citizens&mdash;that Rapp himself had heard nothing from
+the outer world since the Elbing mail-cart had been turned back by the
+first of the Cossacks on the night of the seventh of January.</p>
+<p>Perhaps Sebastian had that most fatal of maladies&mdash;to which
+nearly all men come at last&mdash;weariness of life.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Why don&rsquo;t you fortify yourself, and laugh at fortune?&rdquo;
+asked Barlasch, twenty years his senior, as he stood sturdily on his
+stocking-feet at the sick man&rsquo;s bedside.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I take what my daughter gives me,&rdquo; protested Sebastian,
+half peevishly.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But that does not suffice,&rdquo; answered the materialist.&nbsp;
+&ldquo;It does not suffice to swallow evil fortune&mdash;one must digest
+it.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Sebastian made no answer.&nbsp; He was a quiet patient, and lay all
+day with wide-open, dreaming eyes.&nbsp; He seemed to be waiting for
+something.&nbsp; This, indeed, was his mental attitude as presented
+to his neighbours, and perhaps to the few friends he possessed in Dantzig.&nbsp;
+He had waited through the years during which D&eacute;sir&eacute;e had
+grown to womanhood.&nbsp; He waited on doggedly through the first month
+of the siege, without enthusiasm, without comment&mdash;without hope,
+perhaps.&nbsp; He seemed to be waiting now to get better.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He has made little or no progress,&rdquo; said the doctor,
+who could only give a passing glance at his patients, for he was working
+day and night.&nbsp; He had not time to beat about the bush, as his
+kind heart would have liked, for he had known D&eacute;sir&eacute;e
+all her life.</p>
+<p>It was Shrove Tuesday, and the streets were full of revellers.&nbsp;
+The Neapolitans and other Southerners had made great preparations for
+the carnival, and the Governor had not denied them their annual licence.&nbsp;
+They had built a high car in one of the entrance yards to the Marienkirche;
+and finding that the ancient arch would not allow the erection to pass
+out into the street, they had pulled down the pious handiwork of a bygone
+generation.</p>
+<p>The shouts of these merrymakers could be dimly heard through the
+double windows, but Sebastian made no inquiry as to the meaning of the
+cry.&nbsp; A sort of lassitude&mdash;the result of confinement within
+doors, of insufficient food, of waning hope&mdash;had come over D&eacute;sir&eacute;e.&nbsp;
+She listened heedlessly to the sounds in the streets through which the
+dead were passing to the Oliva Gate, while the living danced by in their
+hideous travesty of rejoicing.</p>
+<p>It was dusk when Barlasch came in.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The streets,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;are full of fools, dressed
+as such.&rdquo;&nbsp; Receiving no answer, he crossed the room to where
+D&eacute;sir&eacute;e sat, treading noiselessly, and stood in front
+of her, trying to see her averted face.&nbsp; He stooped down and peered
+at her until she could no longer hide her tear-stained eyes.</p>
+<p>He made a wry face and a little clicking noise with his tongue, such
+as the women of his race make when they drop and break some household
+utensil.&nbsp; Then he went back towards the bed.&nbsp; Hitherto he
+had always observed a certain ceremoniousness of manner in the sick
+chamber.&nbsp; He laid this aside this evening, and sat down on a chair
+that stood near.</p>
+<p>Thus they remained in a silence which seemed to increase with the
+darkness.&nbsp; At length the stillness became so marked that Barlasch
+slowly turned his head towards the bed.&nbsp; The same instinct had
+come to D&eacute;sir&eacute;e at the same moment.</p>
+<p>They both rose and groped their way towards Sebastian.&nbsp; D&eacute;sir&eacute;e
+found the flint and struck it.&nbsp; The sulphur burnt blue for interminable
+moments, and then flared to meet the wick of the candle.&nbsp; Barlasch
+watched D&eacute;sir&eacute;e as she held the light down to her father&rsquo;s
+face.&nbsp; Sebastian&rsquo;s waiting was over.&nbsp; Barlasch had not
+needed a candle to recognize death.</p>
+<p>From D&eacute;sir&eacute;e his bright and restless eyes turned slowly
+towards the dead man&rsquo;s face&mdash;and he stepped back.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ah!&rdquo; he said, with a hoarse cry of surprise, &ldquo;now
+I remember.&nbsp; I was always sure that I had seen his face before.&nbsp;
+And when I saw it it was like that&mdash;like the face of a dead man.&nbsp;
+It was on the Place de la Nation, on a tumbrel&mdash;going to the guillotine.&nbsp;
+He must have escaped, as many did, by some accident or mistake.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He went slowly to the window, holding his shaggy head between his
+two clenched hands as if to spur his memory to an effort.&nbsp; Then
+he turned and pointed to the silent form on the bed.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That is a noble of France,&rdquo; he said; &ldquo;one of the
+greatest.&nbsp; And all France thinks him dead this twenty years.&nbsp;
+And I cannot remember his name&mdash;goodness of God&mdash;I cannot
+remember his name!&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<h2>CHAPTER XXVIII.&nbsp; VILNA.</h2>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<i>It
+is our trust<br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;That there is yet another
+world to mend<br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;All error and mischance.</i></p>
+<p>Louis d&rsquo;Arragon knew the road well enough from K&ouml;nigsberg
+to the Niemen.&nbsp; It runs across a plain, flat as a table, through
+which many small streams seek their rivers in winding beds.&nbsp; This
+country was not thinly inhabited, though the villages had been stripped,
+as foliage is stripped by a cloud of locusts.&nbsp; Each cottage had
+its ring of silver birch-trees to protect it from the winds which sweep
+from the Baltic and the steppe.&nbsp; These had been torn and broken
+down by the retreating army, in a vain hope of making fire with green
+wood.</p>
+<p>It was quite easy to keep in the steps of the retreating army, for
+the road was marked by recumbent forms huddled on either side.&nbsp;
+Few vehicles had come so far, for the broken country near to Vilna and
+around Kowno had presented slopes up which the starving horses were
+unable to drag their load.</p>
+<p>D&rsquo;Arragon reached Kowno without mishap, and there found a Russian
+colonel of Cossacks who proved friendly enough, and not only appreciated
+the value of his passport and such letters of recommendation as he had
+been able to procure at K&ouml;nigsberg, but gave him others, and forwarded
+him on his journey.</p>
+<p>He still nourished a lingering belief in De Casimir&rsquo;s word.&nbsp;
+Charles must have been left behind at Vilna to recover from his exhaustion.&nbsp;
+He would, undoubtedly, make his way westward as soon as possible.&nbsp;
+He might have got away to the South.&nbsp; Any one of these huddled
+human landmarks might be Charles Darragon.</p>
+<p>Louis was essentially a thorough man.&nbsp; The sea is a mistress
+demanding a whole and concentrated attention&mdash;and concentration
+soon becomes a habit.&nbsp; Louis did not travel at night, for fear
+of passing Charles on the road, alive or dead.&nbsp; He knew his cousin
+better than any in the Frauengasse had learnt to know this gay and inconsequent
+Frenchman.&nbsp; A certain cunning lay behind the happy laugh&mdash;a
+great capacity was hidden by the careless manner.&nbsp; If ready wit
+could bring man through the dangers of the retreat, Charles had as good
+a chance of surviving as any.</p>
+<p>Nevertheless, Louis rarely passed a dead man on the road, but drew
+up, and quitting his sleigh, turned over the body, which was almost
+invariably huddled with its back offered to the deadly, prevailing North
+wind.&nbsp; Against each this wind had piled a sloping bank of that
+fine snow which, even in the lightest breeze, drifts over the surface
+of the land like an ivory mist, waist high, and cakes the clothes.&nbsp;
+In a high wind it will rise twenty feet in the air, and blind any who
+try to face it.</p>
+<p>As often as not a mere glance sufficed to show that this was not
+Charles, for few of the bodies were clad.&nbsp; Many had been stripped,
+while still living, by their half-frozen comrades.&nbsp; But sometimes
+Louis had to dust the snow from strange bearded faces before he could
+pass on with a quick sigh of relief.</p>
+<p>Beyond Kowno, the country is thinly populated, and spreading pine-forests
+bound the horizon.&nbsp; The Cossacks&mdash;the wild men of Toula, who
+reaped the laurels of the rearguard fighting&mdash;were all along the
+road.&nbsp; D&rsquo;Arragon frequently came upon a picket&mdash;as often
+as not the men were placidly sitting on a frozen corpse, as on a seat&mdash;and
+stopped to say a few words and gather news.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You will find your friend at Vilna,&rdquo; said one young
+officer, who had been attached to General Wilson&rsquo;s staff, and
+had many stories to tell of the energetic and indefatigable English
+commissioner.&nbsp; &ldquo;At Vilna we took twenty thousand prisoners&mdash;poor
+devils who came and asked us for food&mdash;and I don&rsquo;t know how
+many officers.&nbsp; And if you see Wilson there, remember me to him.&nbsp;
+If Napoleon has need to hate one man more than another for this business,
+it is that firebrand, Wilson.&nbsp; Yes, you will assuredly find your
+cousin at Vilna among the prisoners.&nbsp; But you must not linger by
+the road, for they are being sent back to Moscow to rebuild that which
+they have caused to be destroyed.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He laughed and waved his gloved hand as D&rsquo;Arragon drove on.</p>
+<p>After the broken land and low abrupt hills of Kowno, the country
+was flat again until the valley of the Vilia opened out.&nbsp; And here,
+almost within sight of Vilna, D&rsquo;Arragon drove down a short hill
+which must ever be historic.&nbsp; He drove slowly, for on either side
+were gun-carriages deep sunken in the snow where the French had left
+them.&nbsp; This hill marked the final degeneration of the Emperor&rsquo;s
+army into a shapeless rabble hopelessly flying before an exhausted enemy.</p>
+<p>Half on the road and half in the ditch were hundreds of carriages
+which had been hurriedly smashed up to provide firewood.&nbsp; Carts,
+still laden with the booty of Moscow, stood among the trees.&nbsp; Some
+of them contained small square boxes of silver coin, brought by Napoleon
+to pay his army and here abandoned.&nbsp; Silver coin was too heavy
+to carry.&nbsp; The rate of exchange had long been sixty francs in silver
+for a gold napoleon or a louis.&nbsp; The cloth coverings of the cushions
+had been torn off to shape into rough garments; the straw stuffing had
+been eaten by the horses.</p>
+<p>Inside the carriages were&mdash;crouching on the floor&mdash;the
+frozen bodies of fugitives too badly wounded or too ill to attempt to
+walk.&nbsp; They had sat there till death came to them.&nbsp; Many were
+women.&nbsp; In one carriage four women, in silks and fine linen, were
+huddled together.&nbsp; Their furs had been dragged from them either
+before or after death.</p>
+<p>Louis stopped at the bottom and looked back.&nbsp; De Casimir at
+all events had succeeded in surmounting this obstacle which had proved
+fatal to so many&mdash;the grave of so many hopes&mdash;God&rsquo;s
+rubbish-heap, where gold and precious stones, silks and priceless furs,
+all that greedy men had schemed and striven and fought to get, fell
+from their hands at last.</p>
+<p>Vilna lies all down a slope&mdash;a city built upon several hills&mdash;and
+the Vilia runs at the bottom.&nbsp; That Way of Sorrow, the Smolensk
+Road, runs eastward by the river bank, and here the rearguard held the
+Cossacks in check while Murat hastily decamped, after dark, westwards
+to Kowno.&nbsp; The King of Naples, to whom Napoleon gave the command
+of his broken army quite gaily&mdash;&ldquo;&agrave; vous, Roi de Naples,&rdquo;
+he is reported to have said, as he hurried to his carriage&mdash;Murat
+abandoned his sick and wounded; did not even warn the stragglers.</p>
+<p>D&rsquo;Arragon entered the city by the narrow gate known as the
+Town Gate, through which, as through that greater portal of Moscow,
+every man must pass bareheaded.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The Emperor is here,&rdquo; were the first words spoken to
+him by the officer on guard.</p>
+<p>But the streets were quiet enough, and the winner in this great game
+of chance maintained the same unostentatious silence in victory as that
+which, in the hour of humiliation, had baffled Napoleon.</p>
+<p>It was almost night, and D&rsquo;Arragon had been travelling since
+daylight.&nbsp; He found a lodging, and, having secured the comfort
+of the horse provided by the lame shoemaker of K&ouml;nigsberg, he went
+out into the streets in search of information.</p>
+<p>Few cities are, to this day, so behind the times as Vilna.&nbsp;
+The streets are still narrow, winding, ill-paved, ill-lighted.&nbsp;
+When D&rsquo;Arragon quitted his lodging, he found no lights at all,
+for the starving soldiers had climbed to the lamps for the sake of the
+oil, which they had greedily drunk.&nbsp; It was a full moon, however,
+and the patrols at the street corners were willing to give such information
+as they could.&nbsp; They were strangers to Vilna like Louis himself,
+and not without suspicion; for this was a city which had bidden the
+French welcome.&nbsp; There had been dancing and revelry on the outward
+march.&nbsp; The citizens themselves were afraid of the strange, wild-eyed
+men who returned to them from Moscow.</p>
+<p>At last, in the Episcopal Palace, where head-quarters had been hurriedly
+established, Louis found the man he sought, the officer in charge of
+the arrangements for despatching prisoners into Russia and to Siberia.&nbsp;
+He was a grizzled warrior of the old school, speaking only French and
+Russian.&nbsp; He was tired out and hungry, but he listened to Louis&rsquo;
+story.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;There is the list,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;it is more or less
+complete.&nbsp; Many have called themselves officers who never held
+a commission from the Emperor Napoleon.&nbsp; But we have done what
+we can to sort them out.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>So Louis sat down in the dimly lighted room and deciphered the names
+of those officers who had been left behind, detained by illness or wounds
+or the lack of spirit to persevere.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You understand,&rdquo; said the Russian, returning to his
+work, &ldquo;I cannot afford the time to help you.&nbsp; We have twenty-five
+thousand prisoners to feed and keep alive.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes&mdash;I understand,&rdquo; answered Louis, who had the
+seaman&rsquo;s way of making himself a part of his surroundings.</p>
+<p>The old colonel glanced at him across the table with a grim smile.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The Emperor,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;was sitting in that chair
+an hour ago.&nbsp; He may come back at any moment.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ah!&rdquo; said Louis, following the written lines with a
+pencil.</p>
+<p>But no interruption came, and at last the list was finished.&nbsp;
+Charles was not among the officers taken prisoner at Vilna.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well?&rdquo; inquired the Russian, without looking up.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Not there.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The old officer took a sheet of paper and hurriedly wrote a few words
+on it.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Try the Basile Hospital to-morrow morning,&rdquo; he said.&nbsp;
+&ldquo;That will gain you admittance.&nbsp; It is to be cleared out
+by the Emperor&rsquo;s orders.&nbsp; We have about twenty thousand dead
+to dispose of as well&mdash;but they are in no hurry.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He laughed grimly, and bade Louis good night.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Come to me again,&rdquo; he called out after him, drawn by
+a sudden chord of sympathy to this stranger, who had the rare capacity
+of confining himself to the business in hand.</p>
+<p>By daybreak the next morning Louis was at the hospital of St. Basile.&nbsp;
+It had been prepared by the Duc de Bassano under Napoleon&rsquo;s orders
+when Vilna was selected as the base of the great army.&nbsp; When the
+Russians entered Vilna after the retreating remnant of Murat&rsquo;s
+rabble, they found the dead and the dying in the streets and the market-place.&nbsp;
+Some had made fires and had lain themselves down around them&mdash;to
+die.&nbsp; Others were without food or firing, almost without clothes.&nbsp;
+Many were barefoot.&nbsp; All, officers and men alike, were in rags.&nbsp;
+It was a piteous sight; for half of these men were no longer human.&nbsp;
+Some were gnawing at their own limbs.&nbsp; Many were blind, others
+had lost their speech or hearing.&nbsp; Nearly all were marred by some
+disfigurement&mdash;some terrible sore, the result of a frozen wound,
+of frostbite, of scurvy, of gangrene.</p>
+<p>The Cossacks, half civilized as they were, wild with the excitement
+of killing and the chase of a human quarry, stood aghast in the streets
+of Vilna.</p>
+<p>When the Emperor arrived, he set to work to clear the streets first,
+to get these piteous men indoors.&nbsp; There was no question yet of
+succouring them.&nbsp; It was not even possible to feed them all.&nbsp;
+The only thought was to find them some protection against the ruthless
+cold.</p>
+<p>The first thought was, of course, directed to the hospitals.&nbsp;
+They looked in and saw a storehouse of the dead.&nbsp; The dead could
+wait; but the living must be housed.</p>
+<p>So the dead waited, and it was their turn now at the St. Basile Hospital,
+where Louis presented himself at dawn.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Looking for some one?&rdquo; asked a man in uniform, who must
+have been inside the hospital, for he hurried down the steps with a
+set mouth and quailing eyes.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Then don&rsquo;t go in&mdash;wait here.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Louis looked in and took the doctor&rsquo;s advice.&nbsp; The dead
+were stored in the passages, one on the top of the other, like bales
+of goods in a warehouse.</p>
+<p>Some attempt seemed to have been made to clear the wards, but those
+whose task it had been had not had time to do more than drag the dead
+out into the passage.</p>
+<p>The soldiers were now at work in the lower passage.&nbsp; Carts began
+to arrive.&nbsp; An officer told off to this dread duty came up hurriedly
+smoking a cigarette, his high fur collar about his ears.&nbsp; He glanced
+at Louis, and bowed to him.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Looking for some one?&rdquo; he asked.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Then stand here beside me.&nbsp; It is I who have to keep
+count.&nbsp; They say there are eight thousand in here.&nbsp; They will
+be carried past here to the carts.&nbsp; Have a cigarette.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>It is hard to talk when the thermometer registers more than twenty
+degrees of frost, for the lips stiffen and contract into wrinkles like
+the lips of a very old woman.&nbsp; Perhaps neither of the watchers
+was in the humour to begin an acquaintance.</p>
+<p>They stood side by side, stamping their feet to keep the blood going,
+without speaking.&nbsp; Once or twice Louis stepped forward, and at
+a signal from the officer the bearers stopped.&nbsp; But Louis shook
+his head, and they passed on.&nbsp; At midday the officer was relieved,
+his place being taken by another, who bowed stiffly to Louis and took
+no more notice of him.&nbsp; For war either hardens or softens.&nbsp;
+It never leaves a man as it found him.</p>
+<p>All day the work was carried on.&nbsp; Through the hours this procession
+of the bearded dead went silently by.&nbsp; At the invitation of a sergeant,
+Louis took some soup and bread from the soldiers&rsquo; table.&nbsp;
+The men laughingly apologized for the quality of both.</p>
+<p>Towards evening the officer who had first come on duty returned to
+his work.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Not yet?&rdquo; he asked, offering the inevitable cigarette.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Not yet,&rdquo; answered Louis, and even as he spoke he stepped
+forward and stopped the bearers.&nbsp; He brushed aside the matted hair
+and beard.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Is that your friend?&rdquo; asked the officer.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>It was Charles at last.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The doctor says these have been dead two months,&rdquo; volunteered
+the first bearer, over his shoulder.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I am glad you have found him,&rdquo; said the officer, signing
+to the men to go on with their burden.&nbsp; &ldquo;It is better to
+know&mdash;is it not?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; answered Louis slowly.&nbsp; &ldquo;It is better
+to know.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>And something in his voice made the Russian officer turn and watch
+him as he went away.</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<h2>CHAPTER XXIX.&nbsp; THE BARGAIN.</h2>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<i>Like plants in mines which never
+saw the sun,<br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;But dream of him and
+guess where he may be,<br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;And do their
+best to climb and get to him.</i></p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh yes,&rdquo; Barlasch was saying, &ldquo;it is easier to
+die&mdash;it is that that you are thinking&mdash;it is easier to die.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>D&eacute;sir&eacute;e did not answer.&nbsp; She was sitting in the
+little kitchen at the back of the house in the Frauengasse.&nbsp; For
+they had no firing now, and were burning the furniture.&nbsp; Her father
+had been buried a week.&nbsp; The siege was drawn closer than ever.&nbsp;
+There was nothing to eat, nothing to do, no one to talk to.&nbsp; For
+Sebastian&rsquo;s political friends did not dare to come near his house.&nbsp;
+D&eacute;sir&eacute;e was alone in this hopeless world with Barlasch,
+who was on duty now in one of the trenches near the river.&nbsp; He
+went out in the morning, and only returned at night.&nbsp; He had just
+come in, and she could see by the light of the single candle that his
+face was grey and haggard, with deep lines drawn downwards from eyes
+to chin.&nbsp; D&eacute;sir&eacute;e&rsquo;s own face had lost all its
+roundness and the bloom of her northern girlhood.</p>
+<p>Barlasch glanced at her, and bit his lip.&nbsp; He had brought nothing
+with him.&nbsp; At one time he had always managed to bring something
+to the house every day&mdash;a chicken, or a turnip, or a few carrots.&nbsp;
+But to-night there was nothing.&nbsp; And he was tired out.&nbsp; He
+did not sit down, however, but stood breathing on his fingers and rubbing
+them together to restore circulation.&nbsp; He pushed the candle farther
+forward on the table, so that it cast a better light upon her face.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;it is often so.&nbsp; I, who speak
+to you, have seen it so a dozen times in my life.&nbsp; When it is easier
+to sit down and die.&nbsp; Bah!&nbsp; That is a fine thing to do&mdash;a
+brave thing&mdash;to sit down and die.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I am not going to do it, so do not make that mistake,&rdquo;
+said D&eacute;sir&eacute;e, with a laugh that had no mirth in it.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But you would like to.&nbsp; Listen.&nbsp; It is not what
+you feel that matters; it is what you do.&nbsp; Remember that.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>There was an unusual vigour in his voice.&nbsp; Of late, since the
+death of Sebastian, Barlasch seemed to have fallen victim to the settled
+apathy which lives within a prison wall and broods over a besieged city.&nbsp;
+It is a sort of silent mourning worn by the soul for a lost liberty.&nbsp;
+Dantzig had soon succumbed to it, for the citizens had not even the
+satisfaction of being quite sure that they were deserving of the world&rsquo;s
+sympathy.&nbsp; It soon spread to the soldiers who were defending a
+Prussian city for a French Emperor who seemed to have forgotten them.</p>
+<p>But to-night Barlasch seemed to be more energetic.&nbsp; D&eacute;sir&eacute;e
+looked round over her shoulder.&nbsp; He had not laid on the table any
+contribution to a bare larder; and yet his manner was that of one who
+has prepared a surprise and is waiting to enjoy its effect.&nbsp; He
+was restless, moving from one foot to another, rubbing together his
+crooked fingers and darting sidelong glances at her face.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What is it?&rdquo; she asked suddenly, and Barlasch gave a
+start as if he had been detected in some deceit.&nbsp; He bustled forward
+to the smouldering fire and held his hands over it.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It is that it is very cold to-night,&rdquo; he answered, with
+that exaggerated ease of manner with which the young and the simple
+seek to conceal embarrassment.&nbsp; &ldquo;Tell me, mademoiselle, what
+have we for supper to-night?&nbsp; It is I who will cook it.&nbsp; To-night
+we will keep a <i>f&ecirc;te</i>.&nbsp; There is that piece of beef
+for you.&nbsp; I know a way to make it appetizing.&nbsp; For me there
+is my portion of horse.&nbsp; It is the friend of man&mdash;the horse.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He laughed and made an effort to be gay, which had a poignant pathos
+in it that made D&eacute;sir&eacute;e bite her lip.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What <i>f&ecirc;te</i> is it that we are to keep?&rdquo; she
+asked, with a wan smile.&nbsp; Her kind blue eyes had that glitter in
+them which is caused by a constant and continuous hunger.&nbsp; Six
+months ago they had only been gay and kind, now they saw the world as
+it is, as it always must be so long as the human heart is capable of
+happiness and the human reason recognizes the rarity of its attainment.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The <i>f&ecirc;te</i> of St. Matthias&mdash;my <i>f&ecirc;te</i>,
+mademoiselle.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But I thought your name was Jean.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;So it is.&nbsp; But I keep my <i>f&ecirc;te</i> at St. Matthias,
+because on that day we won a battle in Egypt.&nbsp; We will have wine&mdash;a
+bottle of wine&mdash;eh?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>So Barlasch prepared a great feast which was to be celebrated by
+D&eacute;sir&eacute;e in the dining-room, where he lighted a fire, and
+by himself in the kitchen.&nbsp; For he held strongly to a code of social
+laws which the great Revolution had not succeeded in breaking.&nbsp;
+And one of these laws was that it would be in some way degrading to
+D&eacute;sir&eacute;e to see him eat.</p>
+<p>He was a skilled and delicate cook, only hampered by that insatiable
+passion for economy which is the dominant characteristic of the peasant
+of Northern France.&nbsp; To-night, however, he was reckless, and D&eacute;sir&eacute;e
+could hear him searching in his secret hiding-place beneath the floor
+for concealed condiments and herbs.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;There,&rdquo; he said, when he set the dish before her, &ldquo;eat
+it with an easy mind.&nbsp; There is nothing unclean in it.&nbsp; It
+is not rat or cat or the liver of a starved horse, such as we others
+eat and ask no better.&nbsp; It is all clean meat.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He poured out wine, and stood in the darkened doorway watching her
+drink it.&nbsp; Then he went away to his own meal in the kitchen, leaving
+D&eacute;sir&eacute;e vaguely uneasy&mdash;for he was not himself to-night.&nbsp;
+She could hear him muttering as he ate and moved hither and thither
+in the kitchen.&nbsp; At short intervals he came and looked in at the
+door to make sure that she was doing full honour to St. Matthias.&nbsp;
+When she had finished, he came into the room.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ah!&rdquo; he said, glancing at her suspiciously and rubbing
+his hands together.&nbsp; &ldquo;That strengthens, eh?&mdash;that strengthens.&nbsp;
+We others who lead a rough life&mdash;we know that a little food and
+a glass of wine fit one out for any enterprise, for&mdash;well, any
+catastrophe.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>And D&eacute;sir&eacute;e knew in a flash of comprehension that the
+food and the wine and the forced gaiety were nothing but preliminaries
+to bad news.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What is it?&rdquo; she asked a second time.&nbsp; &ldquo;Is
+it . . . bombardment?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Bombardment,&rdquo; he laughed, &ldquo;they cannot shoot,
+those Cossacks.&nbsp; It is only the French who understand artillery.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Then what is it?&mdash;for you have something to tell me,
+I know.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He ruffled his shock-head of white hair, with a grimace of despair.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; he admitted, &ldquo;it is news.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;From outside?&rdquo; cried D&eacute;sir&eacute;e, with a sudden
+break in her voice.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;From Vilna,&rdquo; answered Barlasch.&nbsp; He came into the
+room, and went past her towards the fire, where he put the logs together
+carefully.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It is that he is alive,&rdquo; said D&eacute;sir&eacute;e,
+&ldquo;my husband.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No, it is not that,&rdquo; Barlasch corrected.&nbsp; He stood
+with his back to her, vaguely warming his hands.&nbsp; He had no learning,
+nor manners, nor any polish: nothing but those instincts of the heart
+that teach the head.&nbsp; And his instinct bade him turn his back on
+D&eacute;sir&eacute;e, and wait in silence until she had understood
+his meaning.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Dead?&rdquo; she asked, in a whisper.</p>
+<p>And, still warming his hands, he nodded his head vigorously.&nbsp;
+He waited a long time for her to speak, and at last broke the silence
+himself without looking round.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Troubles,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;troubles for us all.&nbsp;
+There is no avoiding them.&nbsp; One can only push against them as against
+your cold wind of Dantzig that comes from the sea.&nbsp; One can only
+push on.&nbsp; You must push, mademoiselle.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;When did he die?&rdquo; asked D&eacute;sir&eacute;e; &ldquo;where?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;At Vilna, three months ago.&nbsp; He has been dead three months.&nbsp;
+I knew he was dead when you came back to the inn at Thorn, and told
+me that you had seen De Casimir.&nbsp; De Casimir had left him dying&mdash;that
+liar.&nbsp; You remember, I met a comrade on the road&mdash;one of my
+own country&mdash;he told me that they had left ten thousand dead at
+Vilna, and twenty thousand prisoners little better than dead.&nbsp;
+And I knew then that De Casimir had left him there dying, or dead.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He glanced back at her over his shoulder, and at the sight of her
+face made that little click in his throat which, in peasant circles,
+denotes a catastrophe.&nbsp; Then he shook his head slowly from side
+to side.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Listen,&rdquo; he said roughly, &ldquo;the good God knows
+best.&nbsp; I knew when I saw you first, that day in June, in this kitchen,
+that you were beginning your troubles; for I knew the reputation of
+Monsieur, your husband.&nbsp; He was not what you thought him.&nbsp;
+A man is never what a woman thinks him.&nbsp; But he was worse than
+most.&nbsp; And this trouble that has come to you is chosen by the good
+God&mdash;and he has chosen the least in his sack for you.&nbsp; You
+will know it some day&mdash;as I know it now.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You know a great deal,&rdquo; said D&eacute;sir&eacute;e,
+who was quick in speech, and he swung round on his heel to meet her
+spirit.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You are right,&rdquo; he said, pointing his accusatory finger.&nbsp;
+&ldquo;I know a great deal about you&mdash;and I am a very old man.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;How did you learn this news from Vilna?&rdquo; she asked,
+and his hand went up to his mouth as if to hide his thoughts and control
+his lips.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;From one who comes straight from there&mdash;who buried your
+husband there.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>D&eacute;sir&eacute;e rose and stood with her hands resting on the
+table, looking at the persistent back again turned towards her.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Who?&rdquo; she asked, in little more than a whisper.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The Captain&mdash;Louis d&rsquo;Arragon.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And you have spoken to him to-day&mdash;here, in Dantzig?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Barlasch nodded his head.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Was he well?&rdquo; asked D&eacute;sir&eacute;e, with a spontaneous
+anxiety that made Barlasch turn slowly and look at her from beneath
+his great brows.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, he was well enough,&rdquo; he answered, &ldquo;he is made
+of steel, that gentleman.&nbsp; He was well enough, and he has the courage
+of the devil.&nbsp; There are some fishermen who come from Zoppot to
+sell their fish.&nbsp; They steal through the Russian lines&mdash;on
+the ice of the river at night and come to our outposts at daylight.&nbsp;
+One of them said my name this morning.&nbsp; I looked at him.&nbsp;
+He was wrapped up only to show the eyes.&nbsp; He drew his scarf aside.&nbsp;
+It was the Captain d&rsquo;Arragon.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And he was well?&rdquo; asked D&eacute;sir&eacute;e again,
+as if nothing else in the world mattered.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, mon Dieu, yes,&rdquo; cried Barlasch, impatiently, &ldquo;he
+was well, I tell you.&nbsp; Do you know why he came?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>D&eacute;sir&eacute;e had sat down at the table again, where she
+leant her arms and rested her chin in the palms of her two hands; for
+she was weakened by starvation, and confinement, and sorrow.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No,&rdquo; she answered.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He came because he had learnt that the patron was dead.&nbsp;
+It was known in K&ouml;nigsberg a week ago.&nbsp; It is known all over
+Germany; that quiet old gentleman who scraped a fiddle here in the Frauengasse.&nbsp;
+And it is only I, in all the world, who know that he was a greater man
+in Paris than ever he was in Germany&mdash;with his Tugendbund&mdash;and
+I cannot remember his name.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Barlasch broke off and thumped his brow with his fists, as if to
+awaken that dead memory.&nbsp; And all the while he was searching D&eacute;sir&eacute;e&rsquo;s
+face, with eyes made brighter and sharper than ever by starvation.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And do you know what he came for&mdash;the Captain&mdash;for
+he never does anything in idleness?&nbsp; He will run a great risk&mdash;but
+it is for a great purpose.&nbsp; Do you know what he came for?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Barlasch jerked his head back and laughed.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;For you.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He turned and looked at her; but she had raised her clasped hands
+to her forehead, as if to shield her eyes from the light of the candle,
+and he could not see her face.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Do you remember,&rdquo; said Barlasch, &ldquo;that night when
+the patron was so angry&mdash;on the mat&mdash;when Mademoiselle Mathilde
+had to make her choice.&nbsp; It is your turn to-night.&nbsp; You have
+to make your choice.&nbsp; Will you go?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; answered D&eacute;sir&eacute;e, behind her fingers.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;&lsquo;If Mademoiselle will come,&rsquo; he said to me, &lsquo;bring
+her to this place!&rsquo;&nbsp; &lsquo;Yes, mon capitaine,&rsquo; answered
+I.&nbsp; &lsquo;At any cost, Barlasch?&rsquo;&nbsp; &lsquo;At any cost,
+mon capitaine.&rsquo;&nbsp; And we are not men to break our words.&nbsp;
+I will take you there&mdash;at any cost, mademoiselle.&nbsp; And he
+will meet you there&mdash;at any cost.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>And Barlasch expectorated emphatically into the fire, after the manner
+of low-born men.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What a pity,&rdquo; he added reflectively, &ldquo;that he
+is only an Englishman.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;When are we to go?&rdquo; asked D&eacute;sir&eacute;e, still
+behind her barrier of clasped fingers.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;To-morrow night, after midnight.&nbsp; We have arranged it
+all&mdash;the Captain and I&mdash;at the outpost nearest to the river.&nbsp;
+He has influence.&nbsp; He has rendered services to the Russians, and
+the Russian commander will make a night attack on the outpost.&nbsp;
+In the confusion we get through.&nbsp; We arranged it together.&nbsp;
+He pays me well.&nbsp; It is a bargain, and I am to have my money.&nbsp;
+We shook hands on it, and those who saw us must have thought that I
+was buying fish.&nbsp; I, who have no money&mdash;and he, who had no
+fish.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<h2>CHAPTER XXX.&nbsp; THE FULFILMENT.</h2>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<i>And I have laboured somewhat in
+my time<br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;And not been paid profusely.</i></p>
+<p>When D&eacute;sir&eacute;e came down the next morning, she found
+Barlasch talking to himself and laughing as he prepared his breakfast.</p>
+<p>He met her with a gay salutation, and seemed unable to control his
+hilarity.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It is,&rdquo; he explained, &ldquo;because to-night we shall
+be under fire.&nbsp; We shall be in danger.&nbsp; It makes me afraid,
+and I laugh.&nbsp; I cannot help it.&nbsp; When I am afraid, I laugh.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He bustled about the room, and D&eacute;sir&eacute;e saw that he
+had already opened his secret store beneath the floor, to take from
+it such delicacies as remained.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You slept?&rdquo; he asked sharply.&nbsp; &ldquo;Yes, I can
+see you did.&nbsp; That is good, for to-night we shall be awake.&nbsp;
+And now you must eat.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>For Barlasch was a materialist.&nbsp; He had fought death in one
+form or another all his life, and he knew that those who eat and sleep
+are better equipped for the battle than those who cherish high ideals
+or think great thoughts.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It is a good thing,&rdquo; he said, looking at her, &ldquo;that
+you are so slim.&nbsp; In a military coat&mdash;if you put on that short
+dress in which you skate, and your high boots&mdash;you will look like
+a soldier.&nbsp; It is a good thing that it is winter, for you can wear
+the hood of your military coat over your head, as they all do out in
+the trenches to keep their ears from falling.&nbsp; So you need not
+cut off your hair&mdash;all that golden hair.&nbsp; Name of thunder,
+that would be a pity, would it not?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He turned to the fire and stirred his coffee reflectively.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;In my own country,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;a long time ago,
+there was a girl who had hair like yours.&nbsp; That is why we are friends,
+perhaps.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He gave a queer, short laugh, and took up his sheepskin coat preparatory
+to going out.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I have my preparations to make,&rdquo; he said, with an air
+of importance.&nbsp; &ldquo;There is much to be thought of.&nbsp; We
+had not long together, for the others were watching us.&nbsp; But we
+understand each other.&nbsp; I go now to give him the signal that it
+is for to-night.&nbsp; I have borrowed one of Lisa&rsquo;s dusters&mdash;a
+blue one that will show against the snow&mdash;with which to give him
+the signal.&nbsp; And he is watching from Zoppot with his telescope.&nbsp;
+That fat Lisa&mdash;if I had held up my finger, she would have fallen
+in love with me.&nbsp; It has always been so.&nbsp; These women&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>And he went away muttering.</p>
+<p>If he had preparations to make, D&eacute;sir&eacute;e had no less.&nbsp;
+She could take but little with her, and she was quitting the house which
+had always been her home so long as she could remember.&nbsp; Those
+trunks which Barlasch had so unhesitatingly recognized as coming from
+France were, it seemed, destined never to be used again.&nbsp; Mathilde
+had gone, taking with her her few simple possessions; for they had always
+been poor in the Frauengasse.&nbsp; Sebastian had departed on that journey
+which the traveller must face alone, taking naught with him.&nbsp; And
+it was characteristic of the man that he had left nothing behind him&mdash;no
+papers, no testament, no clue to that other life so different from his
+life in the Frauengasse that it must have lapsed into a fleeting, intangible
+memory, such as the brain is sometimes allowed to retain of a dream
+dreamt in this existence, or perhaps in another.&nbsp; Sebastian was
+gone&mdash;with his secret.</p>
+<p>D&eacute;sir&eacute;e, alone with hers, was left in this quiet house
+for a few hours longer.&nbsp; Mechanically she set it in order.&nbsp;
+What would it matter to-morrow whether it were set in order or not?&nbsp;
+Who would come to note the last touches?&nbsp; She worked with that
+feverish haste which is responsible for much unnecessary woman&rsquo;s
+work in this world&mdash;the haste that owes its existence to the fear
+of having time to think.&nbsp; Many talk for the same reason.&nbsp;
+What a quiet world, if those who have nothing to say said nothing!&nbsp;
+But speech or work must fail at last, and lo! the thoughts are lying
+in wait.</p>
+<p>D&eacute;sir&eacute;e&rsquo;s thoughts found their opportunity when
+she went into the drawing-room upstairs, where her wedding-breakfast
+had been set before the guests only eight months ago.&nbsp; The guests&mdash;De
+Casimir, the Gr&auml;fin, Sebastian, Mathilde, Charles!</p>
+<p>D&eacute;sir&eacute;e stood alone now in the silent room.&nbsp; She
+did not look at the table.&nbsp; The guests were all gone.&nbsp; The
+dead past had buried its dead.&nbsp; She went to the window and drew
+aside the curtain as she had drawn it aside on her wedding-day to look
+down into the Frauengasse and see Louis d&rsquo;Arragon.&nbsp; And again
+her heart leapt in her breast with that throb of fear.&nbsp; She turned
+where she stood, and looked at the door as if she expected to see Charles
+come in at it, laughing and gay, explaining (he was so good at explaining)
+his encounter in the street, and stepping aside to allow Louis to come
+forward.&nbsp; Louis, who looked at no one but her, and came into the
+room and into her life.</p>
+<p>She had been afraid of him.&nbsp; She was afraid of him still.&nbsp;
+And her heart had leapt at the thought that he had been restlessly,
+sleeplessly thinking of her, working for her&mdash;had been to Vilna
+and back for her, and was now waiting for her beyond the barrier of
+Russian camp-fires.&nbsp; The dangers which made Barlasch laugh&mdash;and
+she knew they were real enough, for it was only a real danger that stirred
+something in the old soldier&rsquo;s blood to make him gay&mdash;these
+dangers were of no account.&nbsp; She knew, she had known instantly
+and for all time when she looked down into the Frauengasse and saw Louis,
+that nothing in heaven or earth could keep them apart.</p>
+<p>She stood now, looking at the empty doorway.&nbsp; What was the rest
+of her life to be?</p>
+<p>Barlasch returned in the afternoon.&nbsp; He was leisurely and inclined
+to contemplativeness.&nbsp; It would seem that his preparations having
+all been completed, he was left with nothing to do.&nbsp; War is a purifier;
+it clears the social atmosphere and puts womanly men and manly women
+into their right places.&nbsp; It is also a simplifier; it teaches us
+to know how little we really require in daily life, and how many of
+the environments with which men and women hamper themselves are superfluous
+and the fruit of idleness.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I have nothing to do,&rdquo; said Barlasch, &ldquo;I will
+cook a careful dinner.&nbsp; All that I have saved in money I cannot
+carry away; all that was stored beneath the floor must be left there.&nbsp;
+It is often so in war.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He had told D&eacute;sir&eacute;e that they would have to walk twelve
+miles across the snow-clad marshes bordering the frozen Vistula, between
+midnight and dawn.&nbsp; It needed no telling that they could carry
+little with them.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You will have to make a new beginning in life,&rdquo; he said
+curtly, &ldquo;with the clothes upon your back.&nbsp; How many times
+have I done it&mdash;the Saints alone know!&nbsp; But take money, if
+you have it in gold or silver.&nbsp; Mine is all in copper gr&ouml;schen,
+and it is too heavy to carry.&nbsp; I have never yet been anywhere that
+money was not useful&mdash;and name of a dog! I have never had it.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>So D&eacute;sir&eacute;e divided what money she possessed with Barlasch,
+who added it carefully up and repeated several times for accuracy the
+tale of what he had received.&nbsp; For, like many who do not hesitate
+to steal, he was very particular in money matters.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;As for me,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;I shall make a new beginning,
+too.&nbsp; The Captain will enable me to get back to France, when I
+shall go to the Emperor again.&nbsp; It is no place for one of the Old
+Guard, here with Rapp.&nbsp; I am getting old, but he will find something
+for me to do, that little Emperor.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>At midnight they set out, quitting the house in the Frauengasse noiselessly.&nbsp;
+The street was quiet enough, for half the houses were empty now.&nbsp;
+Their footsteps were inaudible on the trodden snow.&nbsp; It was a dark
+night and not cold; for the great frosts of this terrible winter were
+nearly over.</p>
+<p>Barlasch carried his musket and bayonet.&nbsp; He had instructed
+D&eacute;sir&eacute;e to walk in front of him, should they meet a patrol.&nbsp;
+But Rapp had no men to spare for patrolling the town.&nbsp; There was
+no spirit left in Dantzig; for typhus and starvation patrolled the narrow
+streets.</p>
+<p>They quitted the town to the north-west, near the Oliva Gate.&nbsp;
+There was no guard-house here because Langfuhr was held by the French,
+and Rapp&rsquo;s outposts were three miles out on the road to Zoppot.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I have played this game for fifty years,&rdquo; said Barlasch,
+with a low laugh, when they reached the earthworks, completed, at such
+enormous cost of life and strength, by Rapp; &ldquo;follow me and do
+as I do.&nbsp; When I stoop, stoop; when I crawl, crawl; when I run,
+run.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>For he was a soldier now and nothing else.&nbsp; He stood erect,
+and looked round him with the air of a young man&mdash;ready, keen,
+alert.&nbsp; Then he moved forward with confidence towards the high
+land which terminates in the Johannesberg, where the peaceful Dantzigers
+now repair on a Sunday afternoon to drink thin beer and admire the view.</p>
+<p>Below them on the right hand lay the marshes, a white expanse of
+snow with a single dark line drawn across it&mdash;the Langfuhr road
+with its double border of trees.</p>
+<p>Barlasch turned once or twice to make sure that D&eacute;sir&eacute;e
+was following him; but he added nothing to his brief instructions.&nbsp;
+When he gained the summit of the tableland which runs parallel with
+the coast and the Langfuhr road, he paused for breath.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;When I crawl, crawl.&nbsp; When I run, run,&rdquo; he whispered
+again; and led the way.&nbsp; He went up the bed of a stream, turning
+his back to the coast, and at a certain point stopped and by a gesture
+of the hand bade D&eacute;sir&eacute;e crouch down and wait till he
+returned.&nbsp; He came back and signed to her to quit the bed of the
+stream and follow him.&nbsp; When she came up to the tableland, she
+found that they were quite close to a camp-fire.&nbsp; Through the low
+pines she could perceive the dark outline of a house.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Now run,&rdquo; whispered Barlasch, leading the way across
+an open space which seemed to extend to the line of the horizon.&nbsp;
+Without looking back, D&eacute;sir&eacute;e ran&mdash;her only thought
+was a sudden surprise that Barlasch could move so quickly and silently.</p>
+<p>When he gained the shelter of some trees, he threw himself down on
+the snow, and D&eacute;sir&eacute;e coming up to him found him breathlessly
+holding his sides and laughing aloud.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;We are through the lines,&rdquo; he gasped, &ldquo;name of
+a dog, I was so frightened.&nbsp; There they go&mdash;pam! pam!&nbsp;
+Buz . . z . . z . .&rdquo;</p>
+<p>And he imitated the singing buzz of the bullets humming through the
+trees over their heads.&nbsp; For half a dozen shots were fired, while
+he was yet speaking, from behind the camp-fires.&nbsp; There were no
+more, however, and presently, having recovered his breath, Barlasch
+rose.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Come,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;we have a long walk.&nbsp; <i>En
+route</i>.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>They made a great circuit in the pine-woods, through which Barlasch
+led the way with an unerring skill, and descending towards the plain
+far beyond Langfuhr they came out on to a lower tableland, below which
+the great marshes of the Vistula stretched in the darkness, slowly merging
+at last into the sea.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Those,&rdquo; said Barlasch, pausing at the edge of the slope,
+&ldquo;those are the lights of Oliva, where the Russians are.&nbsp;
+That line of lights straight in front is the Russian fleet lying off
+Zoppot, and with them are English ships.&nbsp; One of them is the little
+ship of Captain d&rsquo;Arragon.&nbsp; And he will take you home with
+him; for the ship is ordered to England, to Plymouth&mdash;which is
+across the Channel from my own country.&nbsp; Ah&mdash;cristi!&nbsp;
+I sometimes want to see my own country again&mdash;and my own people&mdash;mademoiselle.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He went on a few paces and then stopped again, and in the darkness
+held up one hand, commanding silence.&nbsp; It was the churches of Dantzig
+striking the hour.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Six o&rsquo;clock,&rdquo; he whispered, &ldquo;it will soon
+be dawn.&nbsp; Yes&mdash;we are half an hour too early.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He sat down, and, by a gesture, bade D&eacute;sir&eacute;e sit beside
+him.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;the Captain told me that he is
+bound for England to convoy larger ships, and you will sail in one of
+them.&nbsp; He has a home in the west of England, and he will take you
+there&mdash;a sister or a mother, I forget which&mdash;some woman.&nbsp;
+You cannot get on without women&mdash;you others.&nbsp; It is there
+that you will be happy, as the bon Dieu meant you to be.&nbsp; It is
+only in England that no one fears Napoleon.&nbsp; One may have a husband
+there and not fear that he will be killed.&nbsp; One may have children
+and not tremble for them&mdash;and it is that that makes you happy&mdash;you
+women.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Presently he rose and led the way down the slope.&nbsp; At the foot
+of it, he paused, and pointing out a long line of trees, said in a whisper&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He is there&mdash;where there are three taller trees.&nbsp;
+Between us and those trees are the French outposts.&nbsp; At dawn the
+Russians attack the outposts, and during the attack we have simply to
+go through it to those trees.&nbsp; There is no other way&mdash;that
+is the rendezvous.&nbsp; Those three tall trees.&nbsp; When I give the
+word, you get up and run to those trees&mdash;run without pausing, without
+looking round.&nbsp; I will follow.&nbsp; It is you he has come for&mdash;not
+Barlasch.&nbsp; You think I know nothing.&nbsp; Bah! I know everything.&nbsp;
+I have always known it&mdash;your poor little secret.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>They lay on the snow crouching in a ditch until a grey line appeared
+low down in the Eastern sky and the horizon slowly distinguished itself
+from the thin thread of cloud that nearly always awaits the rising of
+the sun in Northern latitudes.</p>
+<p>A minute later the dark group of trees broke into intermittent flame
+and the sharp, short &ldquo;Hurrah!&rdquo; of the Cossacks, like an
+angry bark, came sweeping across the plain on the morning breeze.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Not yet,&rdquo; whispered Barlasch, with a gay chuckle of
+enjoyment.&nbsp; &ldquo;Not yet&mdash;not yet.&nbsp; Listen, the bullets
+are not coming here, but are going past to the right of us.&nbsp; When
+you go, keep to the left.&nbsp; Slowly at first&mdash;keep a little
+breath till the end.&nbsp; Now, up! Mademoiselle, run; name of thunder,
+let us run!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>D&eacute;sir&eacute;e did not understand which were the French lines
+and which the line of Russian attack.&nbsp; But there was a clear way
+to the three trees which stood above the rest, and she went towards
+them.&nbsp; She knew she could not run so far, so she walked.&nbsp;
+Then the bullets, instead of passing to the right, seemed to play round
+her&mdash;like bees in a garden on a summer day&mdash;and she ran until
+she was tired.</p>
+<p>The trees were quite close now, and the sky was light behind them.&nbsp;
+Then she saw Louis coming towards her, and she ran into his arms.&nbsp;
+The sound of the humming bullets was still in her dazed brain, and she
+touched him all over with her gloved hand as she clung to him, as a
+mother touches her child when it has fallen, to see whether it be hurt.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;How was I to know?&rdquo; she whispered breathlessly.&nbsp;
+&ldquo;How was I to know that you were to come into my life?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The bullets did not matter, it seemed, nor the roar of the firing
+to the right of them.&nbsp; Nothing mattered&mdash;except that Louis
+must know that she had never loved Charles.</p>
+<p>He held her and said nothing.&nbsp; And she wanted him to say nothing.&nbsp;
+Then she remembered Barlasch, and looked back over her shoulder.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Where is Barlasch?&rdquo; she asked, with a sudden sinking
+at her heart.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He is coming slowly,&rdquo; replied Louis.&nbsp; &ldquo;He
+came slowly behind you all the time, so as to draw the fire away from
+you.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>They turned and waited for Barlasch, who seemed to be going in the
+wrong direction with an odd vagueness in his movements.&nbsp; Louis
+ran towards him with D&eacute;sir&eacute;e at his heels.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;&Ccedil;a-y-est,&rdquo; said Barlasch; which cannot be translated,
+and yet has many meanings.&nbsp; &ldquo;&Ccedil;a-y-est.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>And he sat down slowly on the snow.&nbsp; He sat quite upright and
+rigid, and in the cold light of the Baltic dawn they saw the meaning
+of his words.&nbsp; One hand was within his fur coat.&nbsp; He drew
+it out, and concealed it from D&eacute;sir&eacute;e behind his back.&nbsp;
+He did not seem to see them, but presently he put out his hand and lightly
+touched D&eacute;sir&eacute;e.&nbsp; Then he turned to Louis with that
+confidential drop of the voice with which he always distinguished his
+friends from those who were not his friends.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What is she doing?&rdquo; he asked.&nbsp; &ldquo;I cannot
+see in the dark.&nbsp; Is it not dark?&nbsp; I thought it was.&nbsp;
+What is she doing?&nbsp; Saying a prayer?&nbsp; What&mdash;because I
+have my affair?&nbsp; Hey, mademoiselle.&nbsp; You may leave it to me.&nbsp;
+I will get in, I tell you that.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He put his finger to his nose, and then shook it from side to side
+with an air of deep cunning.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Leave it to me.&nbsp; I shall slip in.&nbsp; Who will stop
+an old man, who has many wounds?&nbsp; Not St. Peter, assuredly.&nbsp;
+Let him try.&nbsp; And if the good God hears a commotion at the gate,
+He will only shrug His shoulders.&nbsp; He will say to St. Peter, &lsquo;Let
+pass; it is only Papa Barlasch!&rsquo;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>And then there was silence.&nbsp; For Barlasch had gone to his own
+people.</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines4"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>
+<p>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, BARLASCH OF THE GUARD ***</p>
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