ne who has finally
drawn up a course of action in a difficult position.

"He comes from my own country, that man. You heard us? We spoke together
in our patois. I shall not see him again. He has a catarrh. When he
coughs there is blood. Alas!"

Desiree glanced at the rugged face half turned away from her. She was
not naturally heartless; but she quite forgot to sympathize with the
elderly soldier who had caught a cold on the retreat from Moscow; for
his friend's grief lacked conviction. Barlasch had heard news which he
had decided to keep to himself.

"Has he come from Vilna?" asked Desiree.

"From Vilna--oh yes. They are all from Vilna."

"And he had no news"--persisted she, "of--Captain Darragon?"

"News--oh no! He is a common soldier, and knows nothing of the officers
on the staff. We are the same--he and I--poor animals in the ranks.
A little gentleman rides up, all sabretasche and gold lace. It is an
officer of the staff. 'Go down into the valley and get shot,' he says.
And--bon jour! we go. No--no. He has no news, my poor comrade."

They were at the inn now, and found the huge yard still packed with
sleighs and disabled carriages, and the stables ostentatiously empty.

"Go in," said Barlasch; "and tell them who your father is--say Antoine
Sebastian and nothing else. I would do it myself, but when it is so cold
as that, the lips are stiff, and I cannot speak German properly. They
would find out that I am French, and it is no good being French now. My
comrade told me that in Konigsberg, Murat himself was ill-received by
the burgomaster and such city stuff as that."

It was as Barlasch foretold. For at the name of Antoine Sebastian the
innkeeper found horses--in another stable.

It would take a few minutes, he said, to fetch them, and in the meantime
there were coffee and some roast meat--his own dinner. Indeed, he could
not do enough to testify his respect for Desiree, and his commiseration
for her, being forced to travel in such weather through a country
infested by starving brigands.

Barlasch consented to come just within the inner door, but refused to
sit at the table with Desiree. He took a piece of bread, and ate it
standing.

"See you," he said to her when they were left alone, "the good God has
made very few mistakes, but there is one thing I would have altered.
If He intended us for such a rough life, He should have made the human
frame capable of going longer without food. To a poor soldier m