arching
from Moscow to have to stop every three hours and gnaw a piece of horse
that has died--and raw--it is not amusing."

He watched Desiree with a grudging eye. For she was young, and had eaten
nothing for six freezing hours.

"And for us," he added; "what a waste of time!"

Desiree rose at once with a laugh.

"You want to go," she said. "Come, I am ready."

"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."

"Ah!" said Desiree, "that is what your friend told you."

"That, and other things."

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.

"There is poison in it," he muttered. "He knows I am a Frenchman."

"Come," said Desiree, with her gay laugh, "I will show you that there is
no poison in it."

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.

"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."

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.

"What is it?" asked Barlasch of the sentry at the town gate, while they
waited for their passports to be returned to them.

"It is a proclamation from the Emperor of Russia--no one knows how it
has got here."

"And what does he proclaim--that citizen?"

"He bids the Dantzigers rise and turn us out," answer