kes, and say them when one is disposed. It is one
of the privileges of the nation, monsieur."

He made the statement lightly, seeing the humour of it with a
cosmopolitan understanding, without any suggestion of the boastfulness
of youth. Desiree noticed that his hair was turning grey at the temples.

"I did not know," he said, turning to her, "that Charles was in Dantzig,
much less that he was celebrating so happy an occasion. We ran against
each other by accident in the street. It was a lucky accident that
allowed me to make your acquaintance so soon after you have become his
wife."

"It scarcely seems possible that it should be an accident," said
Desiree. "It must have been the work of fate--if fate has time to think
of such an insignificant person as myself and so small an event as my
marriage in these days."

"Fate," put in Mathilde in her composed voice and manner, "has come to
Dantzig to-day."

"Ah!"

"Yes. You are the second unexpected arrival this afternoon."

D'Arragon turned and looked at Mathilde. His manner, always grave and
attentive, was that of a reader who has found an interesting book on a
dusty shelf.

"Has the Emperor come?" he asked.

Mathilde nodded.

"I thought I saw something in Charles's face," he said reflectively,
looking back through the open door towards the stairs where Charles had
nodded farewell to them. "So the Emperor is here, in Dantzig?"

He turned towards Sebastian, who stood with a stony face.

"Which means war," he said.

"It always means war," replied Sebastian in a tired voice. "Is he again
going to prove himself stronger than any?"

"Some day he will make a mistake," said D'Arragon cheerfully. "And then
will come the day of reckoning."

"Ah!" said Sebastian, with a shake of the head that seemed to indicate
an account so one-sided that none could ever liquidate it. "You are
young, monsieur. You are full of hope."

"I am not young--I am thirty-one--but I am, as you say, full of hope. I
look to that day, Monsieur Sebastian."

"And in the mean time?" suggested the man who seemed but a shadow of
someone standing apart and far away from the affairs of daily life.

"In the mean time one must play one's part," returned D'Arragon, with
his almost inaudible laugh, "whatever it may be."

There was no foreboding in his voice; no second meaning in the words. He
was open and simple and practical, like the life he led.

"Then you have a part to play, too," said Desiree