I. All on A summer’s day
II. A campaigner
III. Fate
IV. The clouded moon
V. The weissen Ross’l
VI. The shoemaker of Konigsberg
VII. The way of love
VIII. A visitation
IX. The golden guess
X. In deep water
XI. The wave moves on
XII. From Borodino
XIII. In the day of rejoicing
XIV. Moscow
XV. The goal
XVI. The first of the
Ebb
XVII. A forlorn hope
XVIII. Missing
XIX. Kowno
XX. Desiree’s choice
XXI. On the Warsaw road
XXII. Through the Shoals
XXIII. Against the stream
XXIV. Mathilde chooses
XXV. A despatch
XXVI. On the bridge
XXVII. A flash of memory
XXVIII. Vilna
XXIX. The bargain
XXX. The fulfilment
Il faut devoir lever
les yeux pour regarder ce qu’on aime.
A few children had congregated on the steps of the
Marienkirche at Dantzig, because the door stood open.
The verger, old Peter Koch— on week days
a locksmith—had told them that nothing was
going to happen; had been indiscreet enough to bid
them go away. So they stayed, for they were
little girls.
A wedding was in point of fact in progress within
the towering walls of the Marienkirche—a
cathedral built of red brick in the great days of
the Hanseatic League.
“Who is it?” asked a stout fishwife, stepping
over the threshold to whisper to Peter Koch.
“It is the younger daughter of Antoine Sebastian,”
replied the verger, indicating with a nod of his head
the house on the left-hand side of the Frauengasse
where Sebastian lived. There was a wealth of
meaning in the nod. For Peter Koch lived round
the corner in the Kleine Schmiedegasse, and of course—well,
it is only neighbourly to take an interest in those
who drink milk from the same cow and buy wood from
the same Jew.
The fishwife looked thoughtfully down the Frauengasse
where every house has a different gable, and none
of less than three floors within the pitch of the
roof. She singled out No. 36, which has a carved
stone balustrade to its broad verandah and a railing
of wrought-iron on either side of the steps descending
from the verandah to the street.
