Barlasch of the Guard - BestLightNovel.com
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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 marching 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 pa.s.sports 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," answered the soldier, with a grim laugh.
"Is that all?"
"No, comrade, that is not all," was the answer in a graver voice.
"He proclaims that every Pole who submits now will be forgiven and set at liberty; the past, he says, will be committed to an eternal oblivion and a profound silence--those are his words."
"Ah!"
"Yes, and half the defenders of Dantzig are Poles--there are your pa.s.sports--pa.s.s on."
They drove through the dark streets where men like shadows hurried silently about their business.
The Frauenga.s.se seemed to be deserted when they reached it. It was Mathilde who opened the door. She must have been at the darkened window, behind the curtain. Lisa had gone home to her native village in Sammland in obedience to the Governor's orders. Sebastian had not been home all day. Charles had not returned, and there was no news of him.
Barlasch, wiping the snow from his face, watched Desiree, and made no comment.
CHAPTER XXIV. MATHILDE CHOOSES.
But strong is fate, O Love, Who makes, who mars, who ends.
Desiree was telling Mathilde the brief news of her futile journey, when a knock at the front door made them turn from the stairs where they were standing. It was Sebastian's knock. His hours had been less regular of late. He came and went without explanation.
When he had freed his throat from his furs, and laid aside his gloves, he glanced hastily at Desiree, who had kissed him without speaking.
"And your husband?" he asked curtly.
"It was not he whom we found at Thorn," she answered. There was something in her father's voice--in his quick, sidelong glance at her--that caught her attention. He had changed lately. From a man of dreams he had been transformed into a man of action. It is customary to designate a man of action as a hard man. Custom is the brick wall against which feeble minds come to a standstill and hinder the progress of the world. Sebastian had been softened by action, through which his mental energy had found an outlet. But to-night he was his old self again--hard, scornful, incomprehensible.
"I have heard nothing of him," said Desiree.
Sebastian was stamping the snow from his boots.
"But I have," he said, without looking up.
Desiree said nothing. She knew that the secret she had guarded so carefully--the secret kept by herself and Louis--was hers no longer. In the silence of the next moments she could hear Barlasch breathing on his fingers, within the kitchen doorway just behind her. Mathilde made a little movement. She was on the stairs, and she moved nearer to the bal.u.s.trade and held to it breathlessly. For Charles Darragon's secret was De Casimir's too.
"These two gentlemen," said Sebastian slowly, "were in the secret service of Napoleon. They are hardly likely to return to Dantzig."
"Why not?" asked Mathilde.
"They dare not."
"I think the Emperor will be able to protect his officers," said Mathilde.
"But not his spies," replied Sebastian coldly.
"Since they wore his uniform, they cannot be blamed for doing their duty. They are brave enough. They would hardly avoid returning to Dantzig because--because they have outwitted the Tugendbund."
Mathilde's face was colourless with anger, and her quiet eyes flashed.
She had been surprised into this sudden advocacy, and an advocate who displays temper is always a dangerous ally. Sebastian glanced at her sharply. She was usually so self-controlled that her flas.h.i.+ng eyes and quick breath betrayed her.
"What do you know of the Tugendbund?" he asked.
But she would not answer, merely shrugging her shoulders and closing her thin lips with a snap.
"It is not only in Dantzig," said Sebastian, "that they are unsafe. It is anywhere where the Tugendbund can reach them."
He turned sharply to Desiree. His wits, cleared by action, told him that her silence meant that she, at all events, had not been surprised. She had, therefore, known already the part played by De Casimir and Charles, in Dantzig, before the war.