ed. And by way of reply, Sebastian laughed
as he dusted the snuff from his coat with his pocket-handkerchief.

"He asks me to go to Cracow with the Grafin, and marry him," said
Mathilde finally. And Sebastian only shrugged his shoulders. The
suggestion was beneath contempt.

"And...?" he inquired with raised eyebrows.

"I shall do it," replied Mathilde, defiance shining in her eyes.

"At all events," commented Sebastian, who knew Mathilde's mind, and met
her coldness with indifference, "you will do it with your eyes open,
and not leap in the dark, as Desiree did. I was to blame there; a man
is always to blame if he is deceived. With you... Bah! you know what the
man is. But you do not know, unless he tells you in that letter, that he
is even a traitor in his treachery. He has accepted the amnesty offered
by the Czar; he has abandoned Napoleon's cause; he has petitioned the
Czar to allow him to retire to Cracow, and there live on his estates."

"He has no doubt good reasons for his action," said Mathilde.

"Two carriages full," muttered Barlasch, who had withdrawn to the dark
corner near the kitchen door. But no one heeded him.

"You must make your choice," said Sebastian, with the coldness of a
judge. "You are of age. Choose."

"I have already chosen," answered Mathilde. "The Grafin leaves
to-morrow. I will go with her."

She had, at all events, the courage of her own opinions--a courage not
rare in women, however valueless may be the judgment upon which it is
based. And in fairness it must be admitted that women usually have the
courage not only of the opinion, but of the consequence, and meet it
with a better grace than men can summon in misfortune.

Sebastian dined alone and hastily. Mathilde was locked in her room,
and refused to open the door. Desiree cooked her father's dinner while
Barlasch made ready to depart on some vague errand in the town.

"There may be news," he said. "Who knows? And afterwards the patron will
go out, and it would not be wise for you to remain alone in the house."

"Why not?"

Barlasch turned and looked at her thoughtfully over his shoulder.

"In some of the big houses down in the Niederstadt there are forty and
fifty soldiers quartered--diseased, wounded, without discipline. There
are others coming. I have told them we have fever in the house. It is
the only way. We may keep them out; for the Frauengasse is in the
centre of the town, and the soldiers are not needed in this