o not understand that spirit
of adventure which makes the mercenary soldier, and urges the sailor to
join an exploring expedition without hope of any reward beyond his daily
pay, for which he is content to work and die loyally.

"And I," she asked, "what am I to do?"

"We must know where to find you," replied D'Arragon.

There was so much in the simple answer that Desiree fell into a train of
thought. It did not seem much for her to do, and yet it was all. For it
summed up in six words a woman's life: to wait till she is found.

"I shall wait in Dantzig," she said at length.

Barlasch held up his finger close to her face so that she could not fail
to see it, and shook it slowly from side to side commanding her careful
and entire attention.

"And buy salt," he said. "Fill a cupboard full of salt. It is cheap
enough in Dantzig now. The patron will not think of it. He is a
dreamer. But a dreamer awakes at length, and is hungry. It is I who tell
you--Barlasch."

He emphasized himself with a touch of his curved fingers on either
shoulder.

"Buy salt," he said, and walked away to a rising knoll to make sure
that no one was approaching. The moon was just below the horizon, and a
yellow glow was already in the sky.

Desiree and Louis were left alone. He was looking at her, but she was
watching Barlasch with a still persistency.

"He said that it is the happy women who know their own minds," she said
slowly.

"I suppose he meant--Duty," she added at length, when Louis made no sign
of answering.

"Yes," he said.

Barlasch was beckoning to her. She moved away, but stopped a few yards
off, and looked at Louis again.

"Do you think it is any good trying?" she asked, with a short laugh.

"It is no good trying unless you mean to succeed," he answered lightly.
She laughed a second time and lingered, though Barlasch was calling her
to come.

"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.

CHAPTER XVIII. MISSING.

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 fe