But the Dantzigers themselves had
nothing to do. Their prosperous trade was paralyzed. Those who had
aught to sell had sold it. The high-seas and the high-roads were
alike blocked by the French. And rumour, ever busy among those that
wait, ran to and fro in the town.
The Emperor of Russia had been taken prisoner. Napoleon had been
checked at the passage of the Niemen. There had been a great battle
at Gumbinnen, and the French were in full retreat. Vilna had
capitulated to Murat, and the war was at an end. A hundred
authentic despatches of the morning were the subject of contemptuous
laughter at the supper-table.
Lisa heard these tales in the market-place, and told Desiree, who,
as often as not, translated them to Barlasch. But he only held up
his wrinkled forefinger and shook it slowly from side to side.
"Woman's chatter!" he said. "What is the German for 'magpie'?"
And on being told the word, he repeated it gravely to Lisa. For he
had not only fulfilled his promise of settling down in the house,
but had assumed therein a distinct and clearly defined position. He
was the counsellor, and from his chair just within the kitchen he
gave forth judgment.
"And you," he said to Desiree one morning, when household affairs
had taken her to the kitchen, "you are troubled this morning. You
have had a letter from your husband?"
"Yes--and he is in good health."
"Ah!"
Barlasch glared at her beneath his brows, looking her up and down,
noting her quick movements, which had the uncertainty of youth.
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