ith that small, small hope to help him through his
solitary wanderings which he knew to be identical with the hope of
Poland, for which the time was not yet ripe. He was the watcher who sees
most of the game, and knew that the time might never ripen till years
after Wanda and he had gone hence and were no more seen.

XXIX

IN A BY-WAY

There are few roads in Poland. Sooner or later, Cartoner must needs join
the great highway that enters Warsaw from the west, passing by the gates
of the cemetery.

Deulin, no doubt, knew this, for Cartoner found him, riding leisurely
away from the city, just beyond the cemetery. The Frenchman sat his
horse with a straight leg and arm which made Cartoner think of those
days ten years earlier, to which Deulin seldom referred, when this
white-haired dandy was a cavalry soldier, engaged in the painful
business of killing Germans.

Deulin did not think it necessary to refer to the object of Cartoner's
ride. Neither did he mention the fact that he knew that this was not the
direct way to St. Petersburg.

"I hired a horse and rode out to meet you," he said, gayly--he was
singularly gay this morning, and there was a light in his eye--"to
intercept you. Kosmaroff is back in Warsaw. I saw him in the
streets--and he saw me. I think that man is the god in the machine.
He is not a nonentity. I wonder who he is. There is blood there, my
friend."

He turned his horse as he spoke, and rode back towards the city with
Cartoner.

"In the mean time," he said, "I have the hunger of a beggar's dog. What
are we to do? It is one o'clock--and I have the inside of a Frenchman.
We are a great people. We tear down monarchies, and build up a new
republic which is to last forever, and doesn't. We make history so
quickly that the world stands breathless--but we always breakfast before
mid-day."

He took out his watch, and showed its face to Cartoner, with a gesture
which could not have been more tragic had it marked the hour of the last
trump.

"And we dare not show our faces in the streets. At least, I dare not
show mine in the neighborhood of yours in Warsaw. For they have got
accustomed to me there. They think I am a harmless old man--a dentist,
perhaps."

"My train goes from the St. Petersburg Station at three," said Cartoner.
"I will have some lunch at the other station, and drive across in a
close cab with the blinds down."

And he gave his low, gentle laugh. Deulin glanced at him as if th