, when I quitted Dantzig on a mission to Kowno," he said,
with a careless air, "one could cross the Vistula anywhere. I have been
walking on the bank for half a league looking for a way across. One
would think there is a General in Dantzig now."

"There is Rapp," replied the Italian, poling his boat through the
floating ice.

"He will be glad to see me."

The Italian turned and looked over his shoulder. Then he gave a curt,
derisive laugh.

"Barlasch--of the Old Guard!" explained the new-comer, with a careless
air.

"Never heard of him."

Barlasch pushed up the bandage which he still wore over his left eye, in
order to get a better sight of this phenomenal ignoramus, but he made no
comment.

On landing he nodded curtly, at which the boatman made a quick gesture
and spat.

"You have not the price of a glass in your purse, perhaps," he
suggested.

Barlasch disappeared in the darkness without deigning a reply. Half an
hour later he was on the steps of Sebastian's house in the Frauengasse.
On his way through the streets a hundred evidences of energy had caught
his attention, for many of the houses were barricaded, and palisades
were built at the end of the streets running down towards the river. The
town was busy, and everywhere soldiers passed to and fro. Like Samuel,
Barlasch heard the bleating of sheep and the lowing of oxen in his ears.

The houses in the Frauengasse were barricaded like others--many of the
lower windows were built up. The door of No. 36 was bolted, and through
the shutters of the upper windows no glimmer of light penetrated to the
outer darkness of the street. Barlasch knocked and waited. He thought he
could hear surreptitious movements within the house. Again he knocked.

"Who is that?" asked Lisa just within, on the mat. She must have been
there all the time.

"Barlasch," he replied. And the bolts which he, in his knowledge of such
matters, himself had oiled, were quickly drawn.

Inside he found Lisa, and behind her Mathilde and Desiree.

"Where is the patron?" he asked, turning to bolt the door again.

"He is out, in the town," answered Desiree, in a strained voice. "Where
are you from?"

"From Kowno."

Barlasch looked from one face to the other. His own was burnt red,
and the light of the lamp hanging over his head gleamed on the icicles
suspended to his eyebrows and ragged whiskers. In the warmth of the
house his frozen garments began to melt, and from his limbs the water
d