he streets
are still narrow, winding, ill-paved, ill-lighted. When D'Arragon
quitted his lodging, he found no lights at all, for the starving
soldiers had climbed to the lamps for the sake of the oil, which they
had greedily drunk. It was a full moon, however, and the patrols at the
street corners were willing to give such information as they could. They
were strangers to Vilna like Louis himself, and not without suspicion;
for this was a city which had bidden the French welcome. There had been
dancing and revelry on the outward march. The citizens themselves were
afraid of the strange, wild-eyed men who returned to them from Moscow.

At last, in the Episcopal Palace, where head-quarters had been hurriedly
established, Louis found the man he sought, the officer in charge of the
arrangements for despatching prisoners into Russia and to Siberia.
He was a grizzled warrior of the old school, speaking only French and
Russian. He was tired out and hungry, but he listened to Louis' story.

"There is the list," he said, "it is more or less complete. Many have
called themselves officers who never held a commission from the Emperor
Napoleon. But we have done what we can to sort them out."

So Louis sat down in the dimly lighted room and deciphered the names of
those officers who had been left behind, detained by illness or wounds
or the lack of spirit to persevere.

"You understand," said the Russian, returning to his work, "I cannot
afford the time to help you. We have twenty-five thousand prisoners to
feed and keep alive."

"Yes--I understand," answered Louis, who had the seaman's way of making
himself a part of his surroundings.

The old colonel glanced at him across the table with a grim smile.

"The Emperor," he said, "was sitting in that chair an hour ago. He may
come back at any moment."

"Ah!" said Louis, following the written lines with a pencil.

But no interruption came, and at last the list was finished. Charles was
not among the officers taken prisoner at Vilna.

"Well?" inquired the Russian, without looking up.

"Not there."

The old officer took a sheet of paper and hurriedly wrote a few words on
it.

"Try the Basile Hospital to-morrow morning," he said. "That will gain
you admittance. It is to be cleared out by the Emperor's orders. We have
about twenty thousand dead to dispose of as well--but they are in no
hurry."

He laughed grimly, and bade Louis good night.

"Come to me again," he called ou