t
intensity until at last he brought himself to pass Antoine Sebastian in
the narrow passage with no more emphatic notice than a scowl.

"You and I," he said to Desiree, "are the friends. The others--"

And his gesture seemed to permit the others to go hang if they so
desired. The army had gone forward, leaving Dantzig in that idle
restlessness which holds those who, finding themselves in a house of
sickness, are not permitted entry to the darkened chamber, but must
await the crisis elsewhere.

There were some busy enough in the commerce that must exist between a
huge army and its base, in the forwarding of war material and stores, in
accommodating the sick and sending out in return those who were to
fill the gaps. But the Dantzigers themselves had nothing to do. Their
prosperous trade was paralyzed. Those who had aught to sell had sold it.
The high-seas and the high-roads were alike blocked by the French. And
rumour, ever busy among those that wait, ran to and fro in the town.

The Emperor of Russia had been taken prisoner. Napoleon had been
checked at the passage of the Niemen. There had been a great battle at
Gumbinnen, and the French were in full retreat. Vilna had capitulated to
Murat, and the war was at an end. A hundred authentic despatches of the
morning were the subject of contemptuous laughter at the supper-table.

Lisa heard these tales in the market-place, and told Desiree, who,
as often as not, translated them to Barlasch. But he only held up his
wrinkled forefinger and shook it slowly from side to side.

"Woman's chatter!" he said. "What is the German for 'magpie'?"

And on being told the word, he repeated it gravely to Lisa. For he had
not only fulfilled his promise of settling down in the house, but had
assumed therein a distinct and clearly defined position. He was the
counsellor, and from his chair just within the kitchen he gave forth
judgment.

"And you," he said to Desiree one morning, when household affairs had
taken her to the kitchen, "you are troubled this morning. You have had a
letter from your husband?"

"Yes--and he is in good health."

"Ah!"

Barlasch glared at her beneath his brows, looking her up and down,
noting her quick movements, which had the uncertainty of youth.

"And now that he is gone," he said, "and that there is war, you are
going to employ yourself by falling in love with him, when you had all
the time before, and did not take advantage of it."

Desiree laughe