es in the
street every morning. And the cart goes round, as the dustman's cart
used to go in times of peace, and, like the dustman's cart, it drops
part of its load, and the dust that blows round it is the infection of
typhus. That is why you cannot go into the streets."

He unbuttoned his fur coat and displayed a smart new uniform; for Rapp
had put his miserable army into new clothes, with which many of the
Dantzig warehouses had been filled by Napoleon's order at the beginning
of the war.

"There," he said, laying a small parcel on the table, "there is my
daily ration. Two ounces of horse, one ounce of salt beef, the same as
yesterday. One does not know how long we shall be treated so generously.
Let us keep the beef--we may come to want some day."

And giving a hoarse laugh, he lifted a board in the floor, beneath which
he hoarded his stores.

"Will you cook your dejeuner yourself," asked Desiree. "I have something
else for my father."

"And what have you?" asked Barlasch curtly; "you are not keeping
anything hidden from me?"

"No," answered Desiree, with a laugh at the sternness of his face, "I
will give him a piece of the ham which was left over from last night."

"Left over?" echoed Barlasch, going close to her and looking up into her
face, for she was two inches taller than he. "Left over? Then you did
not eat your supper last night?"

"Neither did you eat yours, for it is there under the floor."

Barlasch turned away with a gesture of despair. He sat down in the high
armchair that stood on the hearth, and tapped on the floor with one foot
in pessimistic thought.

"Ah! the women, the women," he muttered, looking into the smouldering
fire. "Lies--all lies. You said that your supper was very nice," he
shouted at her over his shoulder.

"So it was," answered she gaily, "so it is still."

Barlasch did not rise to her lighter humour. He sat in reflection for
some minutes. Then his thoughts took their usual form of a muttered
aside.

"It is a case of compromise. Always like that. The good God had to
compromise with the first woman he created almost at once. And men have
done it ever since--and have never had the best of it. See here," he
said aloud, turning to Desiree, "I will make a bargain with you. I will
eat my last night's supper here at this table, now, if you will eat
yours."

"Agreed."

"Are you hungry?" asked Barlasch, when the scanty meal was set out
before him.

"Yes."

"So am I."