For I am easily afraid--I. But it is
never any use. And when one opens the door, it goes."
He looked at her with a puzzled frown, seeking in vain, it may have
been, the ordinary symptoms of fear. She was hesitating but not
afraid. There ran blood in her veins which will for all time be
associated by history with a gay and indomitable courage.
"Come," he said sharply; "there is nothing else to do."
"I will go," said Desiree, at length, deciding suddenly to do the
one thing that is left to a woman once or twice in her life--to go
to the one man and trust him.
"By the back way," said Barlasch, helping her with the cloak that
Lisa had brought, and pulling the hood forward over her face with a
jerk. "Ah, I know that way. The patron is hiding in the yard. An
old soldier looks to the retreat--though the Emperor has saved us
that, so far. Come, I will help you over the wall, for the door is
rusted."
The way, which Barlasch had perceived, led through the room at the
back of the kitchen to a yard, and thence through a door not opened
by the present occupiers of the old house, into a very labyrinth of
narrow alleys running downward to the river and round the tall
houses that stand against the cathedral walls.
The wall was taller than Barlasch, but he ran at it like a cat, and
Desiree standing below could see the black outline of his limbs
crouching on the top. He stooped down, and grasping her hands,
lifted her by the sheer strength of one arm, balanced her for an
instant on the wall, and then lowered her on the outer side.
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