"But," interrupted Barlasch, "he thinks that Prussia will turn and
declare war against Napoleon. That may be. Who knows? The question is,
Can the patron be induced to quit Dantzig?"

Desiree shook her head.

"It is not I," said Barlasch, "who ask the question. You understand?"

"Yes, I understand. My father will not quit Dantzig."

Whereupon Barlasch made a gesture conveying a desire to think as kindly
of Antoine Sebastian as he could.

"In half an hour," he said, "when it is dark, will you come for a walk
with me along the Langfuhr road--where the unfinished ramparts are?"

Desiree looked at him and hesitated.

"Oh--good--if you are afraid--" said Barlasch.

"I am not afraid--I will come," she answered quickly.

The snow was hard when they set out, and squeaked under their feet, as
it does with a low thermometer.

"We shall leave no tracks," said Barlasch, as he led the way off the
Langfuhr road towards the river. There was broken ground here, where
earthworks had been begun and never completed. The trees had been partly
cut, and beneath the snow were square mounds showing where the timber
had been piled up. But since the departure of Rapp, all had been left
incomplete.

Barlasch turned towards Desiree and pointed out a rising knoll of land
with fir-trees on it--an outline against the sky where a faint aurora
borealis lit the north. She understood that Louis was waiting there, and
must necessarily see them approaching across the untrodden snow. For an
instant she lingered, and Barlasch turning, glanced at her sharply over
his shoulder. She had come against her will, and her companion knew it.
Her feet were heavy with misgiving, like the feet of one who treads
an uncertain road into a strange country. She had been afraid of Louis
d'Arragon when she first caught sight of him in the Frauengasse. The
fear of him was with her now, and would not depart until he himself
swept it away by the first word he spoke.

He came out from beneath the trees, made a few steps forward, and
then stopped. Again Desiree lingered, and Barlasch, who was naturally
impatient, turned and took her by the arm.

"Is it the snow--that you find slippery?" he asked, not requiring an
answer. A moment later Louis came forward.

"There is nothing but bad news," he said laconically. "Barlasch will
have told you; but there is no need to give up hope. The army has
reached the Niemen; the rearguard has quitted Vilna. There is nothing
for i