cousin had been given the command
of the escort which has now filtered away, like every other corps. He
was to conduct back to Paris two carriages laden with imperial treasure
and certain papers of value. Charles did not want to go back to Paris.
He wished most naturally to return to Dantzig. I, on the other hand,
desired to go to France; and there place my sword once more at the
Emperor's service. What more simple than to change places?"

"And names," suggested D'Arragon, without falling into De Casimir's easy
and friendly manner.

"For greater security in passing through Poland and across the
frontier," explained De Casimir readily. "Once in France--and I hope
to be there in a week--I shall report the matter to the Emperor as it
really happened: namely, that, owing to Colonel Darragon's illness, he
transferred his task to me at Vilna. The Emperor will be indifferent, so
long as the order has been carried out."

De Casimir turned to Desiree as likely to be more responsive than this
dark-eyed stranger, who listened with so disconcerting a lack of comment
or sympathy.

"So you see, madame," he said, "Charles will still get the credit for
having carried out his most difficult task, and no harm is done."

"When did you leave Charles at Vilna?" asked she.

De Casimir lay back on the pillow in an attitude which betrayed his
weakness and exhaustion. He looked at the ceiling with lustreless eyes.

"It must have been a fortnight ago," he said at length. "I was trying to
count the days. We have lost all account of dates since quitting Moscow.
One day has been like another--and all, terrible. Believe me, madame,
it has always been in my mind that you were awaiting the return of your
husband at Dantzig. I spared him all I could. A dozen times we saved
each other's lives."

In six words Desiree could have told him all she knew: that he was a spy
who had betrayed to death and exile many Dantzigers whose hospitality
had been extended to him as a Polish officer; that Charles was a
traitor who had gained access to her father's house in order to watch
him--though he had honestly fallen in love with her. He was in love with
her still, and he was her husband. It was this thought that broke into
her sleep at night, that haunted her waking hours.

She glanced at Louis d'Arragon, and held her peace.

"Then, Monsieur," he said, "you have every reason to suppose that if
Madame returns to Dantzig now, she will find her husband there?