onths, and
Desiree passed unmolested through the narrow streets. She made her way
to the quay, passing through the low gateway known as the door of the
Holy Ghost, and here found people still astir. For the commerce that
thrives on a northern river is paralyzed all the winter, and feverishly
active when the ice has gone.
"The Elsa," replied a woman, who had been selling bread all day on the
quay, and was now packing up her stall, "you ask for the Elsa. There is
such a ship, I know. But how can I say which she is? See, they lie right
across the river like a bridge. Besides, it is late, and sailors are
rough men."
Desiree hurried on. Louis d'Arragon had said that the ship was lying
near to the Krahn-Thor, of which the great hooded roof loomed darkly
against the stars above her. She was looking about her when a man came
forward with the hesitating step of one who has been told to wait the
arrival of some one unknown to him.
"The Elsa," she said to him; "which ship is it?"
"Come along with me, Mademoiselle," the man replied; "though I was not
told to look for a woman."
He spoke in English, which Desiree hardly understood; for she had never
heard it from English lips, and looked for the first time on one of that
race upon which all the world waited now for salvation. For the
English, of all the nations, were the only men who from the first had
consistently defied Napoleon.
The sailor led the way towards the river. As he passed the lamp burning
dimly above some steps, Desiree saw that he was little more than a boy.
He turned and offered her his hand with a shy laugh, and together they
stood at the bottom of the steps with the water lapping at their feet.
"Have you a letter," he said, "or will you come on board?"
Then perceiving that she did not understand, he repeated the question in
German.
"I will come on board," she answered.
The Elsa was lying in the middle of the river, and the boat into which
Desiree stepped shot across the water without sound of oars. The sailor
was paddling it noiselessly at the stern. Desiree was not unused to
boats, and when they came alongside the Elsa she climbed on board
without help.
"This way," said the sailor, leading her towards the deckhouse where
a light burned dimly behind red curtains. He knocked at the door and
opened it without awaiting a reply. In the little cabin two men sat at a
table, and one of them was Louis d'Arragon dressed in the rough clothes
of a mer
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