rlasch. And when that warrior had been supplied with beer it was with
Desiree, in an agitated whisper in the great dark dining-room with its
gloomy old pictures and heavy carving, that she took counsel as to where
he should be quartered.

The object of their solicitude himself interrupted their hurried
consultation by opening the door and putting his shaggy head round the
corner of it.

"It is not worth while to consult long about it," he said. "There is a
little room behind the kitchen, that opens into the yard. It is full of
boxes. But we can move them--a little straw--and there!"

With a gesture he described a condition of domestic peace and comfort
which far exceeded his humble requirements.

"The blackbeetles and I are old friends," he concluded cheerfully.

"There are no blackbeetles in the house, monsieur," said Desiree,
hesitating to accept his proposal.

"Then I shall resign myself to my solitude," he answered. "It is quiet.
I shall not hear the patron touching on his violin. It is that which
occupies his leisure, is it not?"

"Yes," answered Desiree, still considering the question.

"I too am a musician," said Papa Barlasch, turning towards the kitchen
again. "I played a drum at Marengo."

And as he led the way to the little room in the yard at the back of the
kitchen, he expressed by a shake of the head a fellow-feeling for the
gentleman upstairs, whose acquaintance he had not yet made, who occupied
his leisure by touching the violin.

They stood together in the small apartment which Barlasch, with the
promptitude of an experienced conqueror, had set apart for his own
accommodation.

"Those trunks," he observed casually, "were made in France"--a mental
note which he happened to make aloud, as some do for better remembrance.
"This solid girl and I will soon move them. And you, mademoiselle, go
back to your wedding."

"The good God be merciful to you," he added under his breath when
Desiree had gone.

She laughed as she mounted the stairs, a slim white figure amid the
heavy woodwork long since blackened by time. The stairs made no sound
beneath her light step. How many weary feet had climbed them since they
were built! For the Dantzigers have been a people of sorrow, torn by
wars, starved by siege, tossed from one conqueror to another from the
beginning until now.

Desiree excused herself for her absence and frankly gave the cause. She
was disposed to make light of the incident. It was natural