perhaps the sturdy Republicanism which he had not learnt
until middle-age, he sat down again, fork in hand.

"You are prepared to accompany Madame Darragon to Thorn?" inquired
Sebastian, inviting his guest by a gesture to make himself at
home--scarcely a necessary thought in the present instance.

"Yes."

"And how do you propose to make the journey?"

This was so unlike Sebastian's usual method, so far from his lax
comprehension of a father's duty, that Barlasch paused and looked at him
with suspicion. With the back of his hand he pushed up the unkempt
hair which obscured his eyes. This unusual display of parental anxiety
required looking into.

"From what I could see in the streets," he answered, "the General
will not stand in the way of women and useless mouths who wish to quit
Dantzig."

"That is possible; but he will not go so far as to provide horses."

Barlasch gave his companion a quick glance, and returned to his supper,
eating with an exaggerated nonchalance, as if he were alone.

"Will you provide them?" he asked abruptly, at length, without looking
up.

"I can get them for you, and can ensure you relays by the way."

Barlasch cut a piece of meat very carefully, and, opening his mouth
wide, looked at Sebastian over the orifice.

"On one condition," pursued Sebastian quietly; "that you deliver a
letter for me in Thorn. I make no pretence; if it is found on you, you
will be shot."

Barlasch smiled pleasantly.

"The risks are very great," said Sebastian, tapping his snuff-box
reflectively.

"I am not an officer to talk of my honour," answered Barlasch, with
a laugh. "And as for risk"--he paused and put half a potato into his
mouth--"it is Mademoiselle I serve," concluded this uncouth knight with
a curt simplicity.

So they set out at ten o'clock that night in a light sleigh on high
runners, such as may be seen on any winter day in Poland down to the
present time. The horses were as good as any in Dantzig at this date,
when a horse was more costly than his master. The moon, sailing high
overhead through fleecy clouds, found it no hard task to light a world
all snow and ice. The streets of Dantzig were astir with life and
the rumble of waggons. At first there were difficulties, and Barlasch
explained airily that he was not so accomplished a whip in the streets
as in the open country.

"But never fear," he added. "We shall get there, soon enough."

At the city gates there was, as Barlasch had