“Oh,” she said, “I am not afraid
of you when you say things like that. It is
what you leave unsaid. I am afraid of you, I
think, because you expect so much.”
She tried to see his face.
“I am only an ordinary human being, you know,”
she said warningly.
Then she followed Barlasch.
I should fear those
that dance before me now
Would one day stamp
upon me; it has been done:
Men shut their doors
against a setting sun.
During the first weeks of December the biting wind
abated for a time, and immediately the snow came.
It fell for days, until at length the grey sky seemed
exhausted; for the flakes sailed downwards in twos
and threes like the stragglers of an army bringing
up the rear. Then the sun broke through again,
and all the world was a dazzling white.
There had been a cessation in that stream of pitiable
men who staggered across the bridge from the Konigsberg
road. Some instinct had turned it southwards.
Now it began again, and the rumour spread throughout
the city that Rapp was coming. At length, in
the middle of December, an officer brought word that
Rapp with his staff would arrive next day.
Desiree heard the news without comment.
“You do not believe it?” asked Mathilde,
who had come in with shining eyes and a pale face.
“Oh yes, I believe it.”
“Then you forget,” persisted Mathilde,
“that Charles is on the staff. They may
arrive to-night.”
While they were speaking Sebastian came in.
He looked quickly from one to the other.
“You have heard the news?” he asked.
“That the General is coming back?” said
Mathilde.
“No; not that. Though it is true.
Macdonald is in full retreat on Dantzig. The
Prussians have abandoned him—at last.”
He gave a queer laugh and stood looking towards the
window with restless eyes that flitted from one object
to another, as if he were endeavouring to follow in
mind the quick course of events. Then he remembered
Desiree and turned towards her.
“Rapp returns to-morrow,” he said.
“We may presume that Charles is with him.”
“Yes,” said Desiree, in a lifeless voice.
Sebastian wrinkled his eyes and gave an apologetic
laugh.
“We cannot offer him a fitting welcome,”
he said, with a gesture of frustrated hospitality.
“We must do what we can. You and he may,
of course, consider this your home as long as it pleases
you to remain with us. Mathilde, you will see
that we have such delicacies in the house as Dantzig
can now afford—and you, Desiree, will of
course make such preparations as are necessary.
It is well to remember, he may return . . . to-night.”
Desiree went towards the door while Mathilde laid
aside the delicate needlework which seemed to absorb
her mind and employ her fingers from morning till
night. She made a movement as if to accompany
her sister, but Desiree shook her head sharply and
Mathilde remained where she was, leaving Desiree to
go upstairs alone.
