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diff --git a/8158-h/8158-h.htm b/8158-h/8158-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..17c7e0a --- /dev/null +++ b/8158-h/8158-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,11455 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + Barlasch of the Guard, by Henry Seton Merriman + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Barlasch of the Guard, by H. S. Merriman + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Barlasch of the Guard + +Author: H. S. Merriman + +Release Date: July 30, 2009 [EBook #8158] +Last Updated: March 12, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BARLASCH OF THE GUARD *** + + + + +Produced by Les Bowler, and David Widger + + + + + + +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h1> + BARLASCH OF THE GUARD + </h1> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h2> + By Henry Seton Merriman + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h5> + “And they that have not heard shall understand” + </h5> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p class="toc"> + <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big> + </p> + <p> + <br /> <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I. </a> ALL ON A + SUMMER'S DAY <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II. </a> A + CAMPAIGNER <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III. </a> FATE + <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV. </a> THE + CLOUDED MOON <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V. </a> THE + WEISSEN ROSS'L <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI. </a> THE + SHOEMAKER OF KONIGSBERG <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII. + </a> THE WAY OF LOVE <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0008"> + CHAPTER VIII. </a> A VISITATION <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX. </a> THE GOLDEN GUESS <br /><br /> + <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X. </a> IN DEEP WATER <br /><br /> + <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI. </a> THE WAVE MOVES ON + <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII. </a> FROM + BORODINO <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER XIII. </a> IN + THE DAY OF REJOICING <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER XIV. + </a> MOSCOW <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER XV. + </a> THE GOAL <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER + XVI. </a> THE FIRST OF THE EBB <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER XVII. </a> A FORLORN HOPE <br /><br /> + <a href="#link2HCH0018"> CHAPTER XVIII. </a> MISSING <br /><br /> + <a href="#link2HCH0019"> CHAPTER XIX. </a> KOWNO <br /><br /> + <a href="#link2HCH0020"> CHAPTER XX. </a> DESIREE'S CHOICE + <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0021"> CHAPTER XXI. </a> ON THE + WARSAW ROAD <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0022"> CHAPTER XXII. </a> THROUGH + THE SHOALS <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0023"> CHAPTER XXIII. </a> AGAINST + THE STREAM <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0024"> CHAPTER XXIV. </a> MATHILDE + CHOOSES <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0025"> CHAPTER XXV. </a> A + DESPATCH <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0026"> CHAPTER XXVI. </a> ON + THE BRIDGE <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0027"> CHAPTER XXVII. </a> A + FLASH OF MEMORY <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0028"> CHAPTER XXVIII. + </a> VILNA <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0029"> + CHAPTER XXIX. </a> THE BARGAIN <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0030"> CHAPTER XXX. </a> THE FULFILMENT <br /><br /> + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h2> + CHAPTER I. ALL ON A SUMMER'S DAY. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Il faut devoir lever les yeux pour regarder ce qu'on aime. +</pre> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Who is it?” asked a stout fishwife, stepping over the threshold to + whisper to Peter Koch. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </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. 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> + “They teach dancing?” she inquired. + </p> + <p> + And Koch nodded again, taking snuff. + </p> + <p> + “And he—the father?” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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 Desiree had none of these things. 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. 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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. It runs from the Marienkirche to the Frauenthor, and + remains to-day as it was built three hundred years ago. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + He jerked his hand out with widespread fingers, in a gesture indicative of + familiarity with the nakedness of the land. + </p> + <p> + “I have nothing, little citizens,” he said with a mock gravity; “nothing + but my blessing.” + </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. 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. 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. + </p> + <p> + But at the sight of the first troopers Charles Darragon threw up his head + with a little exclamation of surprise. + </p> + <p> + Desiree looked at him and then turned to follow the direction of his gaze. + </p> + <p> + “What are these?” she murmured. For the uniforms were new and unfamiliar. + </p> + <p> + “Cavalry of the Old Guard,” 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. 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. + </p> + <p> + “Who was it? He looked at you, Charles,” said Desiree. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + Desiree turned to those behind her. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Did he see me?” he asked in a low voice which only Desiree 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> + “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. + </p> + <p> + It was Desiree who at length made a movement to continue their way towards + her father's house. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” she said with a slight laugh, “he was not bidden to my wedding, + but he has come all the same.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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, + 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. + </p> + <p> + This, at all events, was what old Koch the locksmith must have read in her + beautiful, discontented face. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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. 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Is there wine?” he asked with a vague smile. “Where has it come from?” + </p> + <p> + “Like other good things, my father-in-law,” replied Charles with his easy + laugh, “it comes from France.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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. 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. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER II. A CAMPAIGNER. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Not what I am, but what I Do, is my Kingdom. +</pre> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “I tremble,” she exclaimed aloud, “to think what it may be like in the + middle.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Barlasch,” he said curtly, holding out a long strip of blue paper. “Of + the Guard. Once a sergeant. Italy, Egypt, the Danube.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Then he turned to the servant who stood, comely and breathless, looking + him up and down. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “Does this mean that you are quartered upon us?” asked Desiree without + seeking to hide her disgust. She spoke in her own tongue. + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “Do you speak so many languages?” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “The Old Guard,” he said, “can always make itself understood.” + </p> + <p> + He rubbed his hands together with the air of a brisk man ready for any + sort of work. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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...” + </p> + <p> + He broke off and made a gesture towards the saucepans which indicated + quite clearly that he was between campaigns—inclined to good living. + </p> + <p> + “I am a rude fork,” he jerked to Desiree over his shoulder in the dialect + of the Cotes du Nord. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + Barlasch held up a reproving hand. The question, he seemed to think, was + not quite delicate. + </p> + <p> + “I pay my own,” he said. “Give and take—that is my motto. When you + have nothing to give... offer a smile.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “A fete?” he inquired curtly. + </p> + <p> + “My marriage fete,” she answered. “I was married half an hour ago.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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> + “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.” + </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> + 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. + </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> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + With a gesture he described a condition of domestic peace and comfort + which far exceeded his humble requirements. + </p> + <p> + “The blackbeetles and I are old friends,” he concluded cheerfully. + </p> + <p> + “There are no blackbeetles in the house, monsieur,” said Desiree, + hesitating to accept his proposal. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” answered Desiree, still considering the question. + </p> + <p> + “I too am a musician,” said Papa Barlasch, turning towards the kitchen + again. “I played a drum at Marengo.” + </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> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “The good God be merciful to you,” he added under his breath when Desiree + had gone. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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 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. + </p> + <p> + “They will attend to him in the kitchen, no doubt,” he said with that + grand air which the dancing academy tried to imitate. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + After a glance he came back into the room. + </p> + <p> + “Excuse me,” he said, with a bow towards Mathilde. “It is, I think, a + messenger for me.” + </p> + <p> + And he hurried downstairs. He did not return at once, and soon the + conversation became general again. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Desiree, thus admonished, followed Charles. 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. 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. + </p> + <p> + “I have been sent for by the... I am wanted at head-quarters,” he said + vaguely. “I shall not be long...” + </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> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER III. FATE. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + We pass; the path that each man trod + Is dim; or will be dim, with weeds. +</pre> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + She glanced at the clock. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “He is on his way to Russia,” Sebastian said jerkily. “God spare me to see + him return!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + Mathilde, who was setting the room in order, glanced through the lace + curtains. + </p> + <p> + “I do not know,” she answered indifferently. “Just an ordinary man.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Is it?” she said rather oddly. “I do not know—I—” + </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> + “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.” + </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> + “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.” + </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. He had a lean look of good breeding. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + The man bowed gravely—a comprehensive bow; but he looked at Desiree. + </p> + <p> + “This is my father-in-law,” continued Charles breathlessly. “Monsieur + Antoine Sebastian, and Desiree and Mathilde—my wife, my dear Louis—your + cousin, Desiree.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “It is I... I am Desiree,” said the younger sister, coming forward with a + slow gesture of shyness. + </p> + <p> + D'Arragon took her hand. + </p> + <p> + “I have been happy,” he said, “in the moment of my arrival.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “A son of Louis d'Arragon who was fortunate enough to escape to England?” + he inquired with a courteous gesture. + </p> + <p> + “The only son,” replied the new-comer. + </p> + <p> + “I am honoured to make the acquaintance of Monsieur le Marquis,” said + Antoine Sebastian slowly. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you must not call me that,” replied D'Arragon with a short laugh. “I + am an English sailor—that is all.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + He turned, nodded gaily to Desiree and ran downstairs. + </p> + <p> + Through the open windows they heard his quick, light footfall as he + hurried up the Frauengasse. Something made them silent, listening to it. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Your father received kindnesses at English hands, after his escape, like + many others.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, and he was too old to repay them by doing the country any service + himself. He would have done it if he could—” + </p> + <p> + D'Arragon paused, looking steadily at the tall old man who listened to him + with averted eyes. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Sebastian held up a warning hand. + </p> + <p> + “In England—” he corrected, “in England one may think such things. + But not in France, and still less in Dantzig.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Fate,” put in Mathilde in her composed voice and manner, “has come to + Dantzig to-day.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. You are the second unexpected arrival this afternoon.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Has the Emperor come?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + Mathilde nodded. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + He turned towards Sebastian, who stood with a stony face. + </p> + <p> + “Which means war,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “It always means war,” replied Sebastian in a tired voice. “Is he again + going to prove himself stronger than any?” + </p> + <p> + “Some day he will make a mistake,” said D'Arragon cheerfully. “And then + will come the day of reckoning.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “I am not young—I am thirty-one—but I am, as you say, full of + hope. I look to that day, Monsieur Sebastian.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “In the mean time one must play one's part,” returned D'Arragon, with his + almost inaudible laugh, “whatever it may be.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “That will not be easy, with Denmark friendly to France,” said Sebastian, + “and every Prussian port closed to you.” + </p> + <p> + “But Sweden will help. She is not friendly to France.” + </p> + <p> + Sebastian laughed, and made a gesture with his white and elegant hand, of + contempt and ridicule. + </p> + <p> + “And, bon Dieu! what a friendship it is,” he exclaimed, “that is based on + the fear of being taken for an enemy.” + </p> + <p> + “It is a friendship that waits its time, monsieur,” said D'Arragon taking + up his hat. + </p> + <p> + “Then you have a ship, monsieur, here in the Baltic?” asked Mathilde with + more haste than was characteristic of her usual utterance. + </p> + <p> + “A very small one, mademoiselle,” he answered. “So small that I could turn + her round here in the Frauengasse.” + </p> + <p> + “But she is fast?” + </p> + <p> + “The fastest in the Baltic, mademoiselle,” he answered. “And that is why I + must take my leave—with the news you have told me.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “We have but one servant,” she said, “who is busy.” + </p> + <p> + On the doorstep he paused for a moment. And Desiree seemed to expect him + to do so. + </p> + <p> + “Charles and I have always been like brothers—you will remember that + always, will you not?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she answered with her gay nod. “I will remember.” + </p> + <p> + “Then good-bye, mademoiselle.” + </p> + <p> + “Madame,” she corrected lightly. + </p> + <p> + “Madame, my cousin,” he said, and departed smiling. + </p> + <p> + Desiree went slowly upstairs again. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IV. THE CLOUDED MOON. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Quand on se mefie on se trompe, quand on ne se mefie pas, on est +trompe. +</pre> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “I am a poor devil of a lieutenant,” he said, “that is all.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “But it must go no farther...” a hundred men had said to him. + </p> + <p> + “My friend, by to-morrow I shall have forgotten all about it,” 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—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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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. 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. + </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. Charles Darragon lived only in the present + moment. He was in love with her. Desiree must marry him. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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. 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. + </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. 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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. He was better received than he had any reason to expect. + </p> + <p> + “I am only a lieutenant,” he said, “but in these days, monsieur, you know—there + are possibilities.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “I have a little money,” he said, “in addition to my pay. I assure you, + monsieur, I am not of mean birth.” + </p> + <p> + “You are an orphan?” said Sebastian curtly. + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Of the... Terror?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; I—well, one does not make much of one's parentage in these + rough times—monsieur.” + </p> + <p> + “Your father's name was Charles—like your own?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “The second son?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, monsieur. Did you know him?” + </p> + <p> + “One remembers a name here and there,” answered Sebastian, in his stiff + manner, looking straight in front of him. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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. + There was a Poniatowski high in the Emperor's service and esteem. The + Poles were for France. + </p> + <p> + 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? + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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. 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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 Desiree's + impetuosity. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “It is because she has no method,” said Mathilde, who had herself a + well-ordered mind, and that quickness which never needs to hurry. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER V. THE WEISSEN ROSS'L. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The moth will singe her wings, and singed return, + Her love of light quenching her fear of pain. +</pre> + <p> + 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. + </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. 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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. 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + At half-past six a soldier brought a hurried note from Charles. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Decidedly,” she said, folding the letter, and placing it in her + work-basket, “Fate is interfering in our affairs to-day.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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. 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. + </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. 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: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Gruss Gott. Tritt ein! + Bring Gluck herein. +</pre> + <p> + But few seemed to accept it. 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. 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “Sacred-name-of-a-thunderstorm,” he said. “Where have I seen that face + before?” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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 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. + </p> + <p> + The troops had been passing out of the city all the afternoon on the road + to Elbing and Konigsberg. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “But war is not declared,” said the first speaker. + </p> + <p> + “Does that matter?” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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. 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. 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 Ross'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—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. + </p> + <p> + “Not there to-night,” said the man, holding up a thick forefinger and + shaking it sideways. + </p> + <p> + “Then where?” + </p> + <p> + “Nowhere to-night,” was the answer. “He has come—you know that?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” answered Sebastian slowly, “for I saw him.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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. 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. + </p> + <p> + “I know that man,” said Sebastian. + </p> + <p> + “So do I,” was the reply. “It is Colonel de Casimir.” + </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> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VI. THE SHOEMAKER OF KONIGSBERG. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Chacun ne comprend que ce qu'il trouve en soi. +</pre> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Cartloads of it were on the road. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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. 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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. As these wanted no repair + he half closed the door again and looked at the newcomer's face. + </p> + <p> + “What do you want?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “A lodging.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “I have no lodging to let,” said the bootmaker. But he did not shut the + door. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Who are you?” asked the bootmaker. + </p> + <p> + The soldier was a dull and slow man. He leant against the doorpost with + tired gestures before replying. + </p> + <p> + “Sergeant in a Schleswig regiment, in charge of spare horses.” + </p> + <p> + “And you have come far?” + </p> + <p> + “From Dantzig without a halt.” + </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. The dust and + fatigue were, however, unmistakable. + </p> + <p> + “Who sent you to me, anyway?” he grumbled. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “How much do you pay?” + </p> + <p> + “A thaler—if you like. Among friends, one is willing to pay.” + </p> + <p> + After a short minute of hesitation the shoemaker opened the door wider and + came out. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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. 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> + “Will you eat before you go to bed?” asked the bootmaker not unkindly. + </p> + <p> + “I ate as I came along the street,” was the reply. “No, I will go to bed. + What time is it?” + </p> + <p> + “It is only seven o'clock—but no matter.” + </p> + <p> + “No, it is no matter. To-morrow I must be astir by five.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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. 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. + </p> + <p> + The soldier hardly noticed his surroundings, but sat down instantly, with + the abandonment of a shepherd's dog at the day's end. + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </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. 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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. + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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. 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. 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. + </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. 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + The sun was up before he folded the papers together. By way of a + postscript he wrote a brief letter. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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: + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes,” the soldier cried, “I am astir.” + </p> + <p> + And as his host rattled the door he opened it. He had unrolled his long + cavalry cloak, and wore it over his wet clothes. + </p> + <p> + “You never told me your name,” said the shoemaker. A suspicious man is + always more suspicious at the beginning of the day. + </p> + <p> + “My name,” answered the other carelessly. “Oh! my name is Max Brunner.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VII. THE WAY OF LOVE. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Celui qui souffle le feu s'expose a etre brule par les +etincelles. +</pre> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + De Casimir was left behind in Dantzig when the army moved forward. + </p> + <p> + “There will be a great battle,” he said, “somewhere near Vilna—and I + shall miss it.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Desiree made a little movement of horror at the announcement. She did not + know that the fighting had already begun. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + Desiree made a little movement as if to continue on her way; and de + Casimir instantly stood aside, with a bow. + </p> + <p> + “Shall I find your father at home?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “I think so. He was at home when I left,” 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> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </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> + “There is Fraulein Mathilde.” + </p> + <p> + “But... well, ask her if she will do me the honour of speaking to me for + an instant. I leave it to you....” + </p> + <p> + “But come in,” protested the servant. “Come upstairs. She will see you; + why not?” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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'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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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—” + </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> + “My father will be sorry—” she began. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “Charles does not interest you so much as he interests your sister?” he + suggested. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “Is that because he is in love, Mademoiselle?” inquired de Casimir with a + guarded laugh. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps so.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “It was my conscience,” he said, looking at her over his shoulder, “that + bade me go.” + </p> + <p> + Her face and her averted eyes asked why, but her straight lips were + silent. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “I have no tolerance for a man who is weakened by love. He should be + strengthened and hardened by it.” + </p> + <p> + “To—?” + </p> + <p> + “To do a man's work in the world,” said Mathilde coldly. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said she at length. + </p> + <p> + “Such is my love for you,” 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'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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + He came a step nearer to her and stood resting on his sword—a lean + hard man who had seen much war. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Mathilde made a little movement towards him which she instantly repressed. + The heart is quicker, but the head nearly always has the last word. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + After all, he was modest in his demands. + </p> + <p> + “Will you help me? Together, Mademoiselle—to what height may we not + rise in these days?” + </p> + <p> + There was a ring of sincerity in his voice, and her eyes answered it. + </p> + <p> + “How can I help you?” she asked in a doubting voice. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Still he could not see from the pale profile whether Mathilde knew + anything at all. + </p> + <p> + “And if I procure information for you?” asked she at length, in a quiet + and collected voice. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + But Mathilde did not seem to be thinking of her father. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “You will help me!” he said, and, turning abruptly on his heel, he left + her. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “She may as well have it,” he said. “It will be as well that she should be + occupied with her own affairs.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VIII. A VISITATION. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Be wiser than other people if you can, but do not tell them so. +</pre> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “You and I,” he said to Desiree, “are the friends. The others—” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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. 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Woman's chatter!” he said. “What is the German for 'magpie'?” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes—and he is in good health.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” + </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> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Desiree laughed at him and made no other answer. While she spoke to Lisa + he sat and watched them. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Then Desiree attracted his scrutiny again. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “That must have been a long time ago,” answered Desiree with her gay + laugh, only giving him half her attention. + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “It is a letter,” said Lisa, returning. “A sailor brought it.” + </p> + <p> + “Another?” said Barlasch, with a gesture of despair. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Is it about your father?” he asked, in a hoarse whisper. + </p> + <p> + “No!” + </p> + <p> + He made a gesture commanding secrecy and silence. Then he went to close + the kitchen door and returned on tip-toe. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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. 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “How many?” asked Sebastian, in a dull voice. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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. 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. + </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> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + As he spoke the bell rang just above his head. He looked up at it and + laughed. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, ah!” he said, “the fanfare begins.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “His hat is not there, as you see,” answered Desiree. “You must seek him + elsewhere.” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + As he spoke he produced a candle from his pocket, and encouraged the + broken wick with his finger-nail. + </p> + <p> + “It will make it pleasanter for all,” said Desiree cheerfully, “if you + will accept a candlestick.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Where are the cellar-stairs?” he asked. “I warn you, Fraulein, it is + useless to conceal your father. We shall, of course, find him.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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 Desiree had somehow cast a mystic contempt. + </p> + <p> + “There is a door there,” said the heavy official, with a brusque return of + his early manner. “Come, what is that door?” + </p> + <p> + “That is a little room.” + </p> + <p> + “Then open it.” + </p> + <p> + “I cannot,” returned Lisa. “It is locked.” + </p> + <p> + “Aha!” said the man, with a laugh of much meaning. “On the inside, eh?” + </p> + <p> + He went to it, and banged on it with his fist. + </p> + <p> + “Come,” he shouted, “open it and be done.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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. 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. + </p> + <p> + “It is the soldier billeted in the house,” explained Lisa, with a + half-hysterical laugh. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IX. THE GOLDEN GUESS. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The golden guess + Is morning star to the full round of truth. +</pre> + <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. 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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> + “Now,” he said, turning to Desiree again, “have you any in Dantzig to help + you?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she answered rather slowly. + </p> + <p> + “Then send for him.” + </p> + <p> + “I cannot do that.” + </p> + <p> + “Then go for him yourself,” snapped Barlasch impatiently. + </p> + <p> + He looked at her fiercely beneath his shaggy eyebrows. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Come,” he said sharply; “there is nothing else to do.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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 + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Run,” he whispered. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “The Elsa,” she said to him; “which ship is it?” + </p> + <p> + “Come along with me, Mademoiselle,” the man replied; “though I was not + told to look for a woman.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Have you a letter,” he said, “or will you come on board?” + </p> + <p> + Then perceiving that she did not understand, he repeated the question in + German. + </p> + <p> + “I will come on board,” she answered. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “You?” he said in surprise. “I did not expect you, madame. You want me?” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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. 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. + </p> + <p> + “My father,” she said quickly, “is in danger. There is no one else in + Dantzig to whom we can turn, and—” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “Come,” he added, “you can tell me as we go ashore.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “Stop—stop,” he interrupted gravely, “who is Barlasch?” + </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> + “And you trust him?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course,” she answered. + </p> + <p> + “But why?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you are so matter-of-fact,” she exclaimed; “I do not know. Because he + is trustworthy, I suppose.” + </p> + <p> + She continued the story, but suddenly stopped and looked up at him under + the shadow of her hood. + </p> + <p> + “You are silent,” she said. “Do you know something about my father of + which I am ignorant? Is that it?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” he answered, “I am trying to follow—that is all. You leave so + much to my imagination.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “Partly,” he answered slowly. + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” she exclaimed half-impatiently, “one sees that you are an + Englishman.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “You forget,” he said in self-defence. + </p> + <p> + “I forget what?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she admitted thoughtfully, “I had forgotten that.” + </p> + <p> + And they walked on in silence, a long way, till they came to the Gate of + the Holy Ghost. + </p> + <p> + “But you can help him to escape?” she said at length, as if following the + course of her own thoughts. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he answered, and that was all. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “A little oil,” he whispered, “and it was soon done.” + </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> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Desiree was throwing back her hood and looking at her father with a + reassuring smile. + </p> + <p> + “I have brought Monsieur d'Arragon,” she said, “to help us.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “It is the least I could do,” he said, “in the absence of Charles. Have + you money?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes—a little.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER X. IN DEEP WATER. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Le coeur humain est un abime qui trompe tous les calculs. +</pre> + <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. 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. 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. + </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. 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Here to-day, Mademoiselle, and gone to-morrow,” he said. “All these eager + soldiers. And who can tell which of us may return?” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “And who can tell,” whispered de Casimir with a careless and confident + laugh, “which of us shall come back rich and great?” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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. 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. + </p> + <p> + His inexorable finger had come down on the name of Antoine Sebastian, + figuring on all the secret reports—first in many. + </p> + <p> + “Who is this man?” he asked, and none could answer. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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. 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “Something has happened,” he said, looking at her doubtfully. + </p> + <p> + “Where is my father?” was the reply. + </p> + <p> + “Unless there has been some mistake,” he answered glibly, “he is at home + in bed.” + </p> + <p> + She smiled contemptuously into his innocent face. + </p> + <p> + “There has been a mistake,” she said; “they came to arrest him to-night.” + </p> + <p> + De Casimir made a gesture of anger and seemed to be mentally assigning a + punishment to some blunderer. + </p> + <p> + “And?” he asked, without looking at her. + </p> + <p> + “And he escaped.” + </p> + <p> + “For the moment?” + </p> + <p> + “No; he has left Dantzig.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “You came here to accuse me of having deceived you,” he said rather + anxiously. “Is that it?” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Mathilde,” he asked slowly, “do you believe me?” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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. 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “No one in Dantzig,” he said, “is so glad to hear that your father has + escaped as I am.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + De Casimir, who was locking the drawers of his writing-table, glanced up + sharply. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! but not alone?” + </p> + <p> + “No—not alone. I will tell you as we go through the streets.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XI. THE WAVE MOVES ON. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + La meme fermete qui sert a resister a l'amour sert aussi a le +rendre violent et durable. +</pre> + <p> + 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. + </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. 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “She leaves her greasy plates here and there,” explained Barlasch in + return. “One must think of one's self and one's uniform.” + </p> + <p> + He was in his stocking-feet with unbuttoned tunic when the two girls came + to him. + </p> + <p> + “Ai, ai, ai,” he said, imitating with his two hands the galloping of a + horse. “The Russians,” he explained confidentially. + </p> + <p> + “Has there been a battle?” asked Desiree. + </p> + <p> + And Barlasch answered “Pooh!” not without contempt for the female + understanding. + </p> + <p> + “Then what is it?” she inquired. “You must remember we are not soldiers—we + do not understand those manoeuvres—ai, ai, like that.” + </p> + <p> + And she copied his gesture beneath his scowling contempt. + </p> + <p> + “It is Vilna,” he said. “That is what it is. Then it will be Smolensk, and + then Moscow. Ah, ah! That little man!” + </p> + <p> + He turned and took up his haversack. + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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. 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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. + 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. + </p> + <p> + “If you take it,” she said, “I shall know that we are friends.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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. 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Towards the end of July he mentioned curtly the arrival of de Casimir at + head-quarters. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </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> + “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.” + </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 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Why did he do it?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, because I asked him,” was the reply. + </p> + <p> + “And why did you ask him?” + </p> + <p> + “Who else was there to ask?” returned Desiree, which was indeed + unanswerable. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “It seems no good at all, your being married,” said one of these + breathlessly, while Desiree laughingly attended to her dishevelled hair. + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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. 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. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XII. FROM BORODINO. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + However we brave it out, we men are a little breed. +</pre> + <p> + 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. + </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—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? + </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. 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. + </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. 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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. 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + All the while the Russians retreated, and, stranger still, the French + followed them, eking out their twenty days' provision. + </p> + <p> + “I will make them fight a big battle, and beat them,” said Napoleon; “and + then the Emperor will sue for peace.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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> + “The horses have no patriotism,” replied Nansouty. “The men will fight on + empty stomachs, but not the horses.” + </p> + <p> + An ominous reply at the beginning of a campaign, while communications were + still open. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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....” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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. 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. + </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 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Desiree, from whose face the colour had faded, nodded cheerfully enough. + </p> + <p> + “Oh yes,” she answered, “I have no doubt he is safe. He has good fortune.” + </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> + “But there is no definite news,” said Mathilde, hardly looking up from the + needlework at which her fingers were so deft and industrious. + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “No news of Charles, I mean,” she continued, “or of any of our friends. Of + Monsieur de Casimir, for instance?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Madame Desiree Darragon—nee Sebastian, + Frauengasse 36, + Dantzig.” + </pre> + <p> + 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: + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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? + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + One letter still remained unread. It was in a different writing—the + writing on the white leather. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + Desiree had read the explanation too late. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIII. IN THE DAY OF REJOICING. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Truth, though it crush me. +</pre> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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 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. + </p> + <p> + “You told me to send for you,” she said in a quiet, tired voice, “if I + wanted you. You have saved me the trouble.” + </p> + <p> + His eyes were hard with anxiety as he looked at her. She held the letters + towards him. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + Seeing that he looked doubtfully at the papers, she spoke again. + </p> + <p> + “One,” she said, “that one on the stained paper, is addressed to me. You + can read it—since I ask you.” + </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> + “Read the others,” she said. “Oh! you need not hesitate. You need not be + so particular. Read one, the top one. One is enough.” + </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'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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “It may not be so easy as you think,” returned D'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. 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. + </p> + <p> + “There is good news, Monsieur,” he said to Sebastian. “Though I did not + come to bring it.” + </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> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “No details?” asked Mathilde in a muffled voice, without looking round. + </p> + <p> + “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! + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “And what news do you bring from the sea?” asked Sebastian. “Is your sky + there as overcast as ours in Dantzig?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Nodding his head with silent emphasis, Sebastian gave it to be understood + that he knew that and more. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “One is glad to hear that your life is one of less hardship,” said + Sebastian gravely. “I.... who have tasted it.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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. + 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. + </p> + <p> + “At first a victory is always a great one,” said D'Arragon, looking + towards the window. + </p> + <p> + “It is so easy to ring a bell,” 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> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + D'Arragon bowed his acknowledgment of this kind thought, and rose rather + hastily. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “So, you see,” she said, “there is no other Sebastian.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “You judge too hastily,” said D'Arragon; but she interrupted him with a + gesture of warning. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “I—?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “You would have stopped it if you could,” said Desiree; and he did not + deny it. + </p> + <p> + “It was some instinct,” he said at length. “Some passing misgiving.” + </p> + <p> + “For Charles?” she asked sharply. + </p> + <p> + And D'Arragon, looking out of the window, would not answer. She gave a + sudden laugh. + </p> + <p> + “One cannot compliment you on your politeness,” she said. “Was it for + Charles that you had misgivings?” + </p> + <p> + At last D'Arragon turned on his heel. + </p> + <p> + “Does it matter?” he asked. “Since I came too late.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “I will help you,” said D'Arragon slowly, almost carefully, “if I can.” + </p> + <p> + He was still avoiding her eyes, still looking out of the window. Sebastian + was coming up the steps. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIV. MOSCOW. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Nothing is so disappointing as failure—except success. +</pre> + <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. 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + For this the army waited on that sunny September morning. + </p> + <p> + “He is putting on his robes,” they said gaily. “He is new to this work.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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. 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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. 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “What are you doing there, my friend?” 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> + “The cellar,” he answered, “always the cellar. It is human nature. We get + it from the animals.” + </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. 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XV. THE GOAL. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + God writes straight on crooked lines. +</pre> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “No—I wrote it.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Was it addressed like that to Madame Desiree Darragon?” + </p> + <p> + “So a comrade told me. It is you, her husband?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” answered Charles, “since you ask; I am her husband.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” replied Barlasch darkly, and his limbs and features settled + themselves into a patient waiting. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” asked Charles, “what are you waiting for?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Charles laughingly sought his purse. But there was nothing in it, so he + looked round the room. + </p> + <p> + “Here, add this to your collection,” and he took a small French clock from + the writing-table, a pretty, gilded toy from Paris. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, mon capitaine.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Four o'clock,” he said to himself, “and I, who have not yet breakfasted—” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Listen,” said Charles, “I found him burrowing like a rat at a cellar-door + in the courtyard. Perhaps he has got in.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + De Casimir caught the gleam of jewellery, and went hurriedly downstairs. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + De Casimir turned and followed Charles upstairs again. + </p> + <p> + “Come up,” he said, “and go to your post.” + </p> + <p> + There was no movement in response. + </p> + <p> + “Name of a dog,” cried de Casimir, “is all discipline relaxed? Come up, I + tell you, and obey my orders.” + </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> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “To your post,” he said, “take your arm, and out into the street, in front + of the house. That is your place.” + </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. 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. + </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. 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + “Quick—with what, mon colonel?” asked Barlasch. + </p> + <p> + “Why, go and fetch some men with a fire-engine.” + </p> + <p> + “There are no fire-engines left in Moscow, mon colonel!” + </p> + <p> + “Then find buckets, and tell me where the well is.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + By way of reply, Barlasch held up one finger in a childlike gesture of + attention to some distant sound. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + With knotted and shaking fingers he drew back the bolts and opened the + door. On the threshold he saluted. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + The crowd was collected in front of a high, many-windowed building in + flames. + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” Barlasch asked first one and then another. But no one spoke + his tongue. At last he found a Frenchman. + </p> + <p> + “It is the hospital.” + </p> + <p> + “And what is that smell? What is burning there?” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + One man gravely wore a gilt coronet crammed over the crown of his shako. + He joined Barlasch, staggering along beside him. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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. 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. + </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> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVI. THE FIRST OF THE EBB. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Tho' he trip and fall + He shall not blind his soul with clay. +</pre> + <p> + 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. + </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. 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “It is a thing to say your prayers to,” he said gruffly. + </p> + <p> + By an effort he kept his eyes averted from the food on the table. + </p> + <p> + “I met a baker on the bridge,” he said, “and offered it to him for a loaf, + but he refused.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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. He went back to the chair near the door, and sat down. + </p> + <p> + “Seven hundred miles,” he said, looking down at his feet with a shake of + the head, “seven hundred miles in six weeks.” + </p> + <p> + Then he glanced at her and out through the open door, to make sure none + could overhear. + </p> + <p> + “Because I was afraid,” he added in a whisper. “I am easily frightened. I + am not brave.” + </p> + <p> + Desiree shook her head and laughed. Women have from all time accepted the + theory that a uniform makes a man courageous. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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> + “But I cannot take it,” said Desiree. “It is worth a million francs.” + </p> + <p> + He looked at her fiercely. + </p> + <p> + “You think that I look for something in return?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh no!” she answered, “I have nothing to give you in return. I am as poor + as you.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + He stopped and scratched his head, looked at her sideways with a grimace + of bewilderment. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “And you—what had you?” asked Desiree, over her shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “No matter,” he answered gruffly, “since I am here.” + </p> + <p> + “And yet you believe in that man still,” flashed out Desiree, 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. He wagged his + head from side to side and heaved a sigh. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah—they say that already?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + He looked at her with a sudden light of anger in his eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Who has taught you to hate Napoleon?” he asked bluntly. + </p> + <p> + And again Desiree turned away from his glance as if she could not meet it. + </p> + <p> + “No one,” she answered. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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> + “It is because you have grown into a woman since I went away.” + </p> + <p> + And out came his accusing finger, though Desiree had her back turned + towards him, and there was none other to see. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” he said, with deadly contempt, “I see, I see!” + </p> + <p> + “Did you expect me to grow up into a man?” asked Desiree, over her + shoulder. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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. 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. + </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—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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + And suddenly came the news that Napoleon was in Paris. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVII. A FORLORN HOPE. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The fire i' the flint + Shows not, till it be struck. +</pre> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Papa Barlasch knew what to do, however. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “There is a man at Zoppot who will tell you,” she answered. + </p> + <p> + “Then I go to Zoppot.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “You mean that we should have heard from Charles before now,” said + Desiree. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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? + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Write a word to him,” he said. “I will take it to Zoppot.” + </p> + <p> + “But you can send a message by the fisherman whose name I have given you,” + answered Desiree. + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” asked Desiree. + </p> + <p> + “Why? How should I know that? He came before when you asked him.” + </p> + <p> + Desiree leant over the table and wrote six words: + </p> + <p> + “Come, if you can come safely.” + </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> + “It is not all writings that I can read,” he admitted. “Have you signed + it?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “Then sign something that he will know, and no other—they might + shoot me. Your baptismal name.” + </p> + <p> + And she wrote “Desiree” after the six words. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “You can leave the rest to me,” he said; and, with a nod and a grimace + expressive of cunning, he left her. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “First,” he said, “there is a question for the patron. Will he quit + Dantzig?—that is the question.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” answered Desiree. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “My father will not leave,” said Desiree. “He has said so. He knows that + Rapp is coming, with the Russians behind him.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + Desiree shook her head. + </p> + <p> + “It is not I,” said Barlasch, “who ask the question. You understand?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I understand. My father will not quit Dantzig.” + </p> + <p> + Whereupon Barlasch made a gesture conveying a desire to think as kindly of + Antoine Sebastian as he could. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + Desiree looked at him and hesitated. + </p> + <p> + “Oh—good—if you are afraid—” said Barlasch. + </p> + <p> + “I am not afraid—I will come,” 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> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Is it the snow—that you find slippery?” he asked, not requiring an + answer. A moment later Louis came forward. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Who will go?” she asked quietly. + </p> + <p> + “I.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “To go to England?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “At a price,” put in that soldier, in a shrewd undertone. “At a price.” + </p> + <p> + “A small one,” corrected Louis, turning to look at him with the close + attention of one exploring a new country. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Louis laughed, as if this were the blunt truth. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + The last words were addressed to Desiree, as if he had acted in assurance + of her approval. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” answered Louis, as if she had asked him a question. “We must do + everything; but I have no more money.” + </p> + <p> + “And I have none with me. I have nothing that I can sell.” + </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> + “You have the ikon I brought you from Moscow,” said Barlasch gruffly. + “Sell that.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” answered Desiree; “I will not sell that.” + </p> + <p> + Barlasch laughed cynically. + </p> + <p> + “There you have a woman,” he said, turning to Louis. “First she will not + have a thing, then she will not part with it.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Desiree, with some spirit, “a woman may know her own mind.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “Five hundred francs,” said Louis. “A thousand francs, if we succeed in + bringing my cousin safely back to Dantzig.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “And I,” she asked, “what am I to do?” + </p> + <p> + “We must know where to find you,” replied D'Arragon. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “I shall wait in Dantzig,” 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> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + He emphasized himself with a touch of his curved fingers on either + shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + Desiree and Louis were left alone. He was looking at her, but she was + watching Barlasch with a still persistency. + </p> + <p> + “He said that it is the happy women who know their own minds,” she said + slowly. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose he meant—Duty,” she added at length, when Louis made no + sign of answering. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he said. + </p> + <p> + Barlasch was beckoning to her. She moved away, but stopped a few yards + off, and looked at Louis again. + </p> + <p> + “Do you think it is any good trying?” she asked, with a short laugh. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + She tried to see his face. + </p> + <p> + “I am only an ordinary human being, you know,” she said warningly. + </p> + <p> + Then she followed Barlasch. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVIII. MISSING. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 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. +</pre> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Desiree heard the news without comment. + </p> + <p> + “You do not believe it?” asked Mathilde, who had come in with shining eyes + and a pale face. + </p> + <p> + “Oh yes, I believe it.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you forget,” persisted Mathilde, “that Charles is on the staff. They + may arrive to-night.” + </p> + <p> + While they were speaking Sebastian came in. He looked quickly from one to + the other. + </p> + <p> + “You have heard the news?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “That the General is coming back?” said Mathilde. + </p> + <p> + “No; not that. Though it is true. Macdonald is in full retreat on Dantzig. + The Prussians have abandoned him—at last.” + </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. Then he remembered Desiree + and turned towards her. + </p> + <p> + “Rapp returns to-morrow,” he said. “We may presume that Charles is with + him.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Desiree, in a lifeless voice. + </p> + <p> + Sebastian wrinkled his eyes and gave an apologetic laugh. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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. 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + At last the clocks struck six, and, soon after, Lisa's heavy footstep made + the stairs creak and crack. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I should have heard him.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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. The + citizens were invited to decorate their streets, and to gather there to + welcome the returning garrison. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Is it the French or the Russians that are coming?” asked a child near to + Desiree. + </p> + <p> + “Both,” was the answer. + </p> + <p> + “But which will come first?” + </p> + <p> + “Wait and see—silentium,” replied the careful Dantziger, looking + over his shoulder. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “You have changed,” she said, “since you last wore it.” + </p> + <p> + “I have grown older—and fatter,” answered Desiree cheerfully. + </p> + <p> + And Lisa, who had no imagination, seemed satisfied with the explanation. + But the change was in Desiree's eyes. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Let us hope,” said Sebastian, “that two of these gentlemen may perceive + you as they pass.” + </p> + <p> + But he did not offer to accompany them. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “If I had such an army as that,” said a stout Dantziger, “I should bring + it into the city quietly, after dusk.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Where are the guns?” asked one. + </p> + <p> + “And the baggage?” suggested another. + </p> + <p> + “And the treasure of Moscow?” 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. 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. + </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. 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. + </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. 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. + </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. Neither Charles nor de + Casimir was among the horsemen. One or two of them bowed, as their leader + had done, to the two girls. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + Desiree did not answer. None of these men was Charles. 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. 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. + </p> + <p> + “Is that all?” she said at length—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 Grunes Thor, they + turned and walked home in silence. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIX. KOWNO. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Distinct with footprints yet + Of many a mighty marcher gone that way. +</pre> + <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. 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. + </p> + <p> + Louis d'Arragon had worked out a route across the plain, as he had been + taught to shape a course across a chart. + </p> + <p> + “How did you return from Kowno?” he asked Barlasch. + </p> + <p> + “Name of my own nose,” replied that traveller. “I followed the line of + dead horses.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I will take you by another route,” replied the sailor. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Where are you going, comrades?” a hundred men had paused to ask them. + </p> + <p> + “To seek a brother,” 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. 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + At first D'Arragon, to whom these horrors were new, attempted to help such + as appealed to him, but Barlasch laughed at him. + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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. 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'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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + At length D'Arragon, who was quick enough in understanding rough men, said— + </p> + <p> + “No, I don't want any more. I will throw it away.” + </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> + “Provided,” muttered Barlasch one day, “that you keep your health. I am an + old man. I could not do this alone.” + </p> + <p> + Which was true, for D'Arragon was carrying all the baggage now. + </p> + <p> + “We must both keep our health,” answered Louis. “I have eaten worse things + than horse.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “It was by that winding stream where a farm had been burnt,” said Louis. + </p> + <p> + Barlasch glanced at him sideways. + </p> + <p> + “If we should come to that, mon capitaine....” + </p> + <p> + “We won't.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Louis looked at him with a slow smile. + </p> + <p> + “I am tired as you,” he said. “We will rest here until the moon rises.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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. 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Louis d'Arragon made a sudden effort and rose to his feet, beneath which + the snow squeaked. + </p> + <p> + “Come,” he said. “If we stay, we shall fall asleep, and then—” + </p> + <p> + Barlasch roused himself and looked sleepily at his companion. He had a + patch of blue on either cheek. + </p> + <p> + “Come!” shouted Louis, as if to a deaf man. “Let us go on to Kowno, and + find out whether he is alive or dead.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XX. DESIREE'S CHOICE. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Our wills and fates do so contrary run, + That our devices still are overthrown. + Our thoughts are ours, their ends none of our own. +</pre> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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. 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Again the Dantzigers laughed. + </p> + <p> + “It is frozen three feet down,” they said. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “I took counsel,” he said, long afterwards, “with two engineer officers + whose devotion equalled their brilliancy—Colonel Richemont and + General Campredon.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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. 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. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “And you, countryman?” replied the new-comer, with a non-committing + readiness, as he stumbled over the gunwale. + </p> + <p> + “And you—an old man?” 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> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “There is Rapp,” replied the Italian, poling his boat through the floating + ice. + </p> + <p> + “He will be glad to see me.” + </p> + <p> + The Italian turned and looked over his shoulder. Then he gave a curt, + derisive laugh. + </p> + <p> + “Barlasch—of the Old Guard!” explained the new-comer, with a + careless air. + </p> + <p> + “Never heard of him.” + </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> + “You have not the price of a glass in your purse, perhaps,” he suggested. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Who is that?” asked Lisa just within, on the mat. She must have been + there all the time. + </p> + <p> + “Barlasch,” he replied. 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 Desiree. + </p> + <p> + “Where is the patron?” he asked, turning to bolt the door again. + </p> + <p> + “He is out, in the town,” answered Desiree, in a strained voice. “Where + are you from?” + </p> + <p> + “From Kowno.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “A dog's country,” he muttered, as he breathed on his fingers. + </p> + <p> + At last he found the letter, and gave it to Desiree. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Desiree went up two steps in order to be nearer the lamp, and they all + watched her as she opened the letter. + </p> + <p> + “Is it from Charles?” asked Mathilde, speaking for the first time. + </p> + <p> + “No,” answered Desiree, rather breathlessly. + </p> + <p> + 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— + </p> + <p> + “Since last night—nothing.” + </p> + <p> + In a few minutes Desiree, having read the letter twice, handed it to her + sister. It was characteristically short. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “How do you know that?” asked Mathilde, a dull light in her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “And they were safe and well at Vilna?” asked Mathilde. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Was it at Kowno that you left Monsieur d'Arragon?” asked Desiree, in a + sharp voice. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </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> + “Well,” he said, after a pause, to Desiree, “have you made your choice?” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” answered Mathilde. “Open quickly.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! What news?” he asked, when he recognised Barlasch. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + And he took the letter from Desiree's hand. + </p> + <p> + “I knew he would come back safely,” said Desiree; and that was all. + </p> + <p> + Sebastian read the letter in one quick glance—and then fell to + thinking. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + But Sebastian dismissed the suggestion with a curt shake of the head. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Then it remains,” he said, looking towards the kitchen, “for Mademoiselle + to make her choice.” + </p> + <p> + “There is no choice,” replied Desiree, “I shall be ready to go with you—when + you have eaten.” + </p> + <p> + “Good,” said Barlasch, and the word applied as well to Lisa, who was + beckoning to him. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0021" id="link2HCH0021"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXI. ON THE WARSAW ROAD. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Oft expectation fails, and most oft there + Where it most promises; and oft it hits + Where hope is coldest and despair most sits. +</pre> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “And how do you propose to make the journey?” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “That is possible; but he will not go so far as to provide horses.” + </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> + “Will you provide them?” he asked abruptly, at length, without looking up. + </p> + <p> + “I can get them for you, and can ensure you relays by the way.” + </p> + <p> + Barlasch cut a piece of meat very carefully, and, opening his mouth wide, + looked at Sebastian over the orifice. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Barlasch smiled pleasantly. + </p> + <p> + “The risks are very great,” said Sebastian, tapping his snuff-box + reflectively. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “But never fear,” he added. “We shall get there, soon enough.” + </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. 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “You laugh when there is nothing to laugh at,” he said grimly. “Foolish. + It makes people wonder what is in your mind.” + </p> + <p> + “There is nothing in my mind,” she answered gaily. + </p> + <p> + “Then there is something in your heart, and that is worse!” said Barlasch, + which made Desiree look at him doubtfully. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “If we go on like this, when shall we arrive?” asked Desiree suddenly. + </p> + <p> + “By eight o'clock, if all goes well.” + </p> + <p> + “And we shall find Monsieur Louis d'Arragon awaiting us at Thorn?” + </p> + <p> + Barlasch shrugged his shoulders doubtfully. + </p> + <p> + “He said he would be there,” he muttered, and, turning in his seat, he + looked down at her with some contempt. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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. 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Without desisting, he looked over his shoulder towards Desiree, but not + actually at her face. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Enough, enough!” he said. “You hurt me. The life is returning now; a drop + of brandy perhaps—” + </p> + <p> + “There is no brandy in Thorn,” said D'Arragon, turning towards the table. + “There is only coffee.” + </p> + <p> + He busied himself with the cups, and did not look at Desiree when he spoke + again. + </p> + <p> + “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—” + </p> + <p> + “Let us go on at once,” interrupted Desiree 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> + “You will wait here,” said D'Arragon, turning towards him, “until—until + I return.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” was the answer. “I will lie on the floor here and sleep. I have had + enough. I—” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + The sound of bells, feebly heard through the double windows, told them + that the horses were being harnessed. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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> + “That is the inn,” he said. + </p> + <p> + In the inn yard he indicated with his whip two travelling-carriages + standing side by side. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + It was Colonel de Casimir. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0022" id="link2HCH0022"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXII. THROUGH THE SHOALS. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I see my way, as birds their trackless way. +</pre> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “You seek me, Monsieur,” he asked, not having recognized Desiree, who + stood behind her companion, in her furs. + </p> + <p> + “I seek Colonel Darragon, and was told that we should find him in this + room.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “Because I am his cousin,” replied Louis quietly, “and Madame is his + wife.” + </p> + <p> + Desiree came forward, her face colourless. She caught her breath, but made + no attempt to speak. + </p> + <p> + De Casimir tried to lift himself on his elbows. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “Where is Charles?” asked Desiree curtly. She had suddenly realized how + intensely she had always disliked De Casimir, and distrusted him. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “You are wondering why I travel under your cousin's name, Monsieur,” said + De Casimir, with a friendly smile. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” returned Louis, without returning the smile. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “And names,” suggested D'Arragon, without falling into De Casimir's easy + and friendly manner. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “When did you leave Charles at Vilna?” asked she. + </p> + <p> + De Casimir lay back on the pillow in an attitude which betrayed his + weakness and exhaustion. He looked at the ceiling with lustreless eyes. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + She glanced at Louis d'Arragon, and held her peace. + </p> + <p> + “Then, Monsieur,” he said, “you have every reason to suppose that if + Madame returns to Dantzig now, she will find her husband there?” + </p> + <p> + De Casimir looked at D'Arragon, and hesitated for an instant. They both + remembered afterwards that moment of uncertainty. + </p> + <p> + “I have every reason to suppose it,” 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 Desiree, who, however, had evidently + nothing more to say. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur,” cried the sick man, “Monsieur, one moment, if you can spare + it.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid that will not do,” he said doubtfully. “Between sisters, you + understand—” + </p> + <p> + 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? + </p> + <p> + “You cannot find another messenger?” asked De Casimir, and the anxiety in + his face was genuine enough. + </p> + <p> + “I can—if you wish it.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Louis found the letter, and went towards the door, as he placed it in his + pocket. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “I am not a countryman; I am an Englishman,” replied Louis. “My name is + Louis d'Arragon.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! I know. Charles has told me, Monsieur le—” + </p> + <p> + But D'Arragon heard no more, for he closed the door behind him. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “You will go back to Dantzig,” he asked, “at once?” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she answered. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + He glanced towards her, and she nodded, as if acknowledging the sureness + and steadiness of the hand at the helm. + </p> + <p> + “You can start early to-morrow morning, and be in Dantzig to-morrow + night.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “And you?” 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. 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> + “Konigsberg,” he answered, “and Riga.” + </p> + <p> + A light passed through her watching eyes, usually so kind and gay; like + the gleam of jealousy. + </p> + <p> + “Your ship?” she asked sharply. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” 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. 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. 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. + </p> + <p> + “It was not the Captain?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Barlasch went close to Desiree, and, nudging her arm with exaggerated + cunning, whispered— + </p> + <p> + “Who was it?” + </p> + <p> + “Colonel de Casimir.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0023" id="link2HCH0023"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIII. AGAINST THE STREAM. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Wo viel Licht ist, ist starker Schatten. +</pre> + <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— + </p> + <p> + “Here we cross.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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. 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “It is New Year's Day,” replied Desiree. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + Desiree 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> + “We are friends,” he asked suddenly, “you and I?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “We have been friends since—that day—when you were married?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” answered Desiree. + </p> + <p> + “Then between friends,” said Barlasch, gruffly; “it is not necessary to + smile—like that—when it is tears that are there.” + </p> + <p> + Desiree laughed. + </p> + <p> + “Would you have me weep?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Has he come from Vilna?” asked Desiree. + </p> + <p> + “From Vilna—oh yes. They are all from Vilna.” + </p> + <p> + “And he had no news”—persisted she, “of—Captain Darragon?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + It was as Barlasch foretold. For at the name of Antoine Sebastian the + innkeeper found horses—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—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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + He watched Desiree with a grudging eye. For she was young, and had eaten + nothing for six freezing hours. + </p> + <p> + “And for us,” he added; “what a waste of time!” + </p> + <p> + Desiree rose at once with a laugh. + </p> + <p> + “You want to go,” she said. “Come, I am ready.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” said Desiree, “that is what your friend told you.” + </p> + <p> + “That, and other things.” + </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. 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. + </p> + <p> + “There is poison in it,” he muttered. “He knows I am a Frenchman.” + </p> + <p> + “Come,” said Desiree, with her gay laugh, “I will show you that there is + no poison in it.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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. 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. + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” asked Barlasch of the sentry at the town gate, while they + waited for their passports to be returned to them. + </p> + <p> + “It is a proclamation from the Emperor of Russia—no one knows how it + has got here.” + </p> + <p> + “And what does he proclaim—that citizen?” + </p> + <p> + “He bids the Dantzigers rise and turn us out,” answered the soldier, with + a grim laugh. + </p> + <p> + “Is that all?” + </p> + <p> + “No, comrade, that is not all,” was the answer in a graver voice. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, and half the defenders of Dantzig are Poles—there are your + passports—pass on.” + </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. 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. + </p> + <p> + Barlasch, wiping the snow from his face, watched Desiree, and made no + comment. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0024" id="link2HCH0024"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIV. MATHILDE CHOOSES. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + But strong is fate, O Love, + Who makes, who mars, who ends. +</pre> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “And your husband?” he asked curtly. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “I have heard nothing of him,” said Desiree. + </p> + <p> + Sebastian was stamping the snow from his boots. + </p> + <p> + “But I have,” he said, without looking up. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “These two gentlemen,” said Sebastian slowly, “were in the secret service + of Napoleon. They are hardly likely to return to Dantzig.” + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” asked Mathilde. + </p> + <p> + “They dare not.” + </p> + <p> + “I think the Emperor will be able to protect his officers,” said Mathilde. + </p> + <p> + “But not his spies,” replied Sebastian coldly. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “What do you know of the Tugendbund?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + But she would not answer, merely shrugging her shoulders and closing her + thin lips with a snap. + </p> + <p> + “It is not only in Dantzig,” said Sebastian, “that they are unsafe. It is + anywhere where the Tugendbund can reach them.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “And you,” he said, “you have nothing to say for your husband.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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. 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. + </p> + <p> + “He says that Dantzig will be taken by storm,” she said at length, “and + that the Cossacks will spare no one.” + </p> + <p> + “Does it signify,” inquired Sebastian in his smoothest voice, “what + Colonel de Casimir may say?” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “And...?” he inquired with raised eyebrows. + </p> + <p> + “I shall do it,” replied Mathilde, defiance shining in her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “He has no doubt good reasons for his action,” said Mathilde. + </p> + <p> + “Two carriages full,” muttered Barlasch, who had withdrawn to the dark + corner near the kitchen door. But no one heeded him. + </p> + <p> + “You must make your choice,” said Sebastian, with the coldness of a judge. + “You are of age. Choose.” + </p> + <p> + “I have already chosen,” answered Mathilde. “The Grafin leaves to-morrow. + I will go with her.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” + </p> + <p> + Barlasch turned and looked at her thoughtfully over his shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “The Grafin has arranged to quit Dantzig to-morrow,” she said. “I am going + to ask her to take me with her.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Will you come too?” asked Mathilde. “All that he says about Dantzig is + true.” + </p> + <p> + “No, thank you,” answered Desiree, gently enough. “I will wait here. I + must wait in Dantzig.” + </p> + <p> + “I cannot,” said Mathilde, half excusing herself. “I must go. I cannot + help it. You understand?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Desiree, and nothing more. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Soon after Mathilde had gone, Barlasch returned. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + He stood on the terrace beside Desiree until the carriage had turned the + corner into the Pfaffengasse. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0025" id="link2HCH0025"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXV. A DESPATCH. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + In counsel it is good to see dangers; and in execution not to +see them unless they be very great. +</pre> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </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. He was thinking of the + treasure. + </p> + <p> + “Oh no!” + </p> + <p> + “Was he ill at all?” + </p> + <p> + “He was in bed,” answered Desiree, doubtfully. + </p> + <p> + Barlasch scratched his head without ceremony, and fell into a long train + of thought. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + He paused and rubbed his chest tenderly. + </p> + <p> + “Never eat horse without salt,” he put in parenthetically. + </p> + <p> + “I hope never to eat it at all,” answered Desiree. “What about Colonel de + Casimir?” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + And it is painful to record that he here resorted to graphic illustration. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “You do not seem to have been so successful—since you are poor,” + said Desiree, with a laugh. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + He went on cleaning the knives, and, without looking at her, seemed to be + speaking his own thoughts aloud. + </p> + <p> + “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?'” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “And why did you not tell me?” + </p> + <p> + Barlasch looked at her thoughtfully for a moment, before replying slowly + and impressively. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + And his eyes flashed as he threw the knives into a drawer. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Is it not enough,” he said, “that we are friends?” + </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> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + And he went out muttering anathemas on the hearts of all women. + </p> + <p> + “It seems,” he said, “that a woman can love anything.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Making sure that there was no one within earshot, he waited until + Sebastian's dreamy eye met his, and then said— + </p> + <p> + “It is time we understood each other.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “By all means, my friend,” he answered. + </p> + <p> + “I delivered your letters,” said Barlasch, “at Thorn and at the other + places.” + </p> + <p> + “I know; I have already had answers. You would be wise to forget the + incident.” + </p> + <p> + Barlasch shrugged his shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “You were paid,” said Sebastian, jumping to a natural conclusion. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + Barlasch did not understand it. He glanced doubtfully at his companion, + and sipped his beer. + </p> + <p> + “Then I will begin to-night.” + </p> + <p> + “Begin what, my friend?” + </p> + <p> + Barlasch waved aside all petty detail. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “But where will you get the corn, my friend?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “But we have no money to pay for them.” + </p> + <p> + “Bah!” + </p> + <p> + “You mean you will steal them,” suggested Sebastian, not without a ring of + contempt in his mincing voice. + </p> + <p> + “A soldier never steals,” answered Barlasch, carelessly announcing a great + truth. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Sebastian shrugged one shoulder, and made no answer for some time. + </p> + <p> + “I have already told you,” he said impatiently, at length, “to forget the + incident; you were paid.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “But it is not my turn to be paid this time. It is I who pay.” + </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> + “As between friends—” suggested Barlasch, and, on receiving a more + decided negative, returned the coins to his pocket, not without + satisfaction. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Sebastian seemed to be considering the matter, and Barlasch was quick to + combat possible objections. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Where is your letter?” asked Sebastian. + </p> + <p> + By way of reply, Barlasch laid on the table a sheet of paper. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Then he went out, and left Sebastian to pay for the beer. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0026" id="link2HCH0026"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXVI. ON THE BRIDGE. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + They that are above + Have ends in everything. +</pre> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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. 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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 Beresina. Though no water had flowed beneath this + bridge, many strange feet had passed across it. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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. 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Will you help a poor man?” he said. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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> + “An Englishman?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + And the other nodded. + </p> + <p> + “Come this way.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “You are a sailor?” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “I was told to look for an English sailor—Louis d'Arragon.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you have found me,” was the reply. + </p> + <p> + Still the cobbler hesitated. + </p> + <p> + “How am I to know it?” he asked suspiciously. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.'” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, that is the name,” he said, searching in his pockets. “The letter is + an open one. Here it is.” + </p> + <p> + In passing the letter, the man made a scarcely perceptible movement of the + hand which might have been a signal. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + The cobbler laughed, not without embarrassment. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + D'Arragon smiled as he unfolded the letter. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “He who signs cannot write at all.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “There is French blood in your veins,” he said abruptly. + </p> + <p> + “Yes—a little.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “What was his name?” asked D'Arragon. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” said D'Arragon, busying himself with his haversack. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “And the other? He who slept in this room. Has he passed through + Konigsberg again?” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “You can help me on the way to Vilna,” answered D'Arragon. + </p> + <p> + “You will never get there.” + </p> + <p> + “I will try,” said the sailor. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0027" id="link2HCH0027"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXVII. A FLASH OF MEMORY. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 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. +</pre> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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's order at the beginning of the + war. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + And giving a hoarse laugh, he lifted a board in the floor, beneath which + he hoarded his stores. + </p> + <p> + “Will you cook your dejeuner yourself,” asked Desiree. “I have something + else for my father.” + </p> + <p> + “And what have you?” asked Barlasch curtly; “you are not keeping anything + hidden from me?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “Neither did you eat yours, for it is there under the floor.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “So it was,” answered she gaily, “so it is still.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Agreed.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you hungry?” asked Barlasch, when the scanty meal was set out before + him. + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “So am I.” + </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. 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. 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Then suddenly he gave way to anger, and banged his hand down on the table. + </p> + <p> + “But, sacred name of thunder, do not make me believe you have eaten when + you have not,” he shouted. “Never do that.” + </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> + “And the patron,” he ended abruptly, “how is he?” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + It was a mere nothing, the invalid said. Such food did not suit him. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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. 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. + </p> + <p> + Perhaps Sebastian had that most fatal of maladies—to which nearly + all men come at last—weariness of life. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “I take what my daughter gives me,” protested Sebastian, half peevishly. + </p> + <p> + “But that does not suffice,” answered the materialist. “It does not + suffice to swallow evil fortune—one must digest it.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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. 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. + </p> + <p> + It was dusk when Barlasch came in. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </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. 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + From Desiree his bright and restless eyes turned slowly towards the dead + man's face—and he stepped back. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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. Then he turned and + pointed to the silent form on the bed. + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0028" id="link2HCH0028"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXVIII. VILNA. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + It is our trust + That there is yet another world to mend + All error and mischance. +</pre> + <p> + 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. + </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. 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'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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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. + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + He laughed and waved his gloved hand as D'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. 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “The Emperor is here,” 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'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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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. 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes—I understand,” answered Louis, who had the seaman'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> + “The Emperor,” he said, “was sitting in that chair an hour ago. He may + come back at any moment.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” said Louis, following the written lines with a pencil. + </p> + <p> + But no interruption came, and at last the list was finished. Charles was + not among the officers taken prisoner at Vilna. + </p> + <p> + “Well?” inquired the Russian, without looking up. + </p> + <p> + “Not there.” + </p> + <p> + The old officer took a sheet of paper and hurriedly wrote a few words on + it. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + He laughed grimly, and bade Louis good night. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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. 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Then don't go in—wait here.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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. 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. + </p> + <p> + “Looking for some one?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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. 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. 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Towards evening the officer who had first come on duty returned to his + work. + </p> + <p> + “Not yet?” he asked, offering the inevitable cigarette. + </p> + <p> + “Not yet,” answered Louis, and even as he spoke he stepped forward and + stopped the bearers. He brushed aside the matted hair and beard. + </p> + <p> + “Is that your friend?” asked the officer. + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + It was Charles at last. + </p> + <p> + “The doctor says these have been dead two months,” volunteered the first + bearer, over his shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” answered Louis slowly. “It is better to know.” + </p> + <p> + And something in his voice made the Russian officer turn and watch him as + he went away. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0029" id="link2HCH0029"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIX. THE BARGAIN. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 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. +</pre> + <p> + “Oh yes,” Barlasch was saying, “it is easier to die—it is that that + you are thinking—it is easier to die.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “I am not going to do it, so do not make that mistake,” said Desiree, with + a laugh that had no mirth in it. + </p> + <p> + “But you would like to. Listen. It is not what you feel that matters; it + is what you do. Remember that.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + He laughed and made an effort to be gay, which had a poignant pathos in it + that made Desiree bite her lip. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “The fete of St. Matthias—my fete, mademoiselle.” + </p> + <p> + “But I thought your name was Jean.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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. 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” she asked a second time. “Is it... bombardment?” + </p> + <p> + “Bombardment,” he laughed, “they cannot shoot, those Cossacks. It is only + the French who understand artillery.” + </p> + <p> + “Then what is it?—for you have something to tell me, I know.” + </p> + <p> + He ruffled his shock-head of white hair, with a grimace of despair. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he admitted, “it is news.” + </p> + <p> + “From outside?” cried Desiree, with a sudden break in her voice. + </p> + <p> + “From Vilna,” answered Barlasch. He came into the room, and went past her + towards the fire, where he put the logs together carefully. + </p> + <p> + “It is that he is alive,” said Desiree, “my husband.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “Dead?” she asked, in a whisper. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “When did he die?” asked Desiree; “where?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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. Then he shook his head slowly from side to side. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “You know a great deal,” said Desiree, who was quick in speech, and he + swung round on his heel to meet her spirit. + </p> + <p> + “You are right,” he said, pointing his accusatory finger. “I know a great + deal about you—and I am a very old man.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “From one who comes straight from there—who buried your husband + there.” + </p> + <p> + Desiree rose and stood with her hands resting on the table, looking at the + persistent back again turned towards her. + </p> + <p> + “Who?” she asked, in little more than a whisper. + </p> + <p> + “The Captain—Louis d'Arragon.” + </p> + <p> + “And you have spoken to him to-day—here, in Dantzig?” + </p> + <p> + Barlasch nodded his head. + </p> + <p> + “Was he well?” asked Desiree, with a spontaneous anxiety that made + Barlasch turn slowly and look at her from beneath his great brows. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “And he was well?” asked Desiree again, as if nothing else in the world + mattered. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, mon Dieu, yes,” cried Barlasch, impatiently, “he was well, I tell + you. Do you know why he came?” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “No,” she answered. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + Barlasch jerked his head back and laughed. + </p> + <p> + “For you.” + </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> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” answered Desiree, behind her fingers. + </p> + <p> + “'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.” + </p> + <p> + And Barlasch expectorated emphatically into the fire, after the manner of + low-born men. + </p> + <p> + “What a pity,” he added reflectively, “that he is only an Englishman.” + </p> + <p> + “When are we to go?” asked Desiree, still behind her barrier of clasped + fingers. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0030" id="link2HCH0030"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXX. THE FULFILMENT. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + And I have laboured somewhat in my time + And not been paid profusely. +</pre> + <p> + When Desiree 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> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + He turned to the fire and stirred his coffee reflectively. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + He gave a queer, short laugh, and took up his sheepskin coat preparatory + to going out. + </p> + <p> + “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—” + </p> + <p> + And he went away muttering. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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! + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + She stood now, looking at the empty doorway. What was the rest of her life + to be? + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “We are through the lines,” he gasped, “name of a dog, I was so + frightened. There they go—pam! pam! Buz.. z.. z..” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Come,” he said, “we have a long walk. En route.” + </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> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Six o'clock,” he whispered, “it will soon be dawn. Yes—we are half + an hour too early.” + </p> + <p> + He sat down, and, by a gesture, bade Desiree sit beside him. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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— + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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 “Hurrah!” of the Cossacks, like an angry bark, came + sweeping across the plain on the morning breeze. + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “How was I to know?” she whispered breathlessly. “How was I to know that + you were to come into my life?” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + He held her and said nothing. And she wanted him to say nothing. Then she + remembered Barlasch, and looked back over her shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “Where is Barlasch?” she asked, with a sudden sinking at her heart. + </p> + <p> + “He is coming slowly,” replied Louis. “He came slowly behind you all the + time, so as to draw the fire away from you.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Ca-y-est,” said Barlasch; which cannot be translated, and yet has many + meanings. “Ca-y-est.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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> + “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!'” + </p> + <p> + And then there was silence. For Barlasch had gone to his own people. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Barlasch of the Guard, by H. S. Merriman + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BARLASCH OF THE GUARD *** + +***** This file should be named 8158-h.htm or 8158-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/8/1/5/8158/ + +Produced by Les Bowler, and David Widger + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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