So in his old age Papa Barlasch was borne forward to the war on that
human tide which flooded all Lithuania, and never ebbed again, but
sank into the barren ground, and was no more seen.
As the slow autumn approached, it became apparent that Dantzig no
longer interested the watchers. Vilna became the base of
operations. Smolensk fell, and, most wonderful of all, the Russians
were retiring on Moscow. Dantzig was no longer on the route. For a
time it was of the world forgotten, while, as Barlasch had
predicted, free men continued at liberty, though their names had an
evil savour, while innocent persons in prison were left to rot
there.
Desiree continued to receive letters from her husband, full of love
and war. For a long time he lingered at Konigsberg, hoping every
day to be sent forward. Then he followed Murat across the Niemen,
and wrote of weary journeys over the rolling plains of Lithuania.
Towards the end of July he mentioned curtly the arrival of de
Casimir at head-quarters.
"With him came a courier," wrote Charles, "bringing your dead
letter. I don't believe you love me as I love you. At all events,
you do not seem to tell me that you do so often as I want to tell
you. Tell me what you do and think every moment of the day . . . .
. . " And so on. Charles seemed to write as easily as he talked,
and had no difficulty in setting forth his feelings. "The courier
is in the saddle," he concluded.
Pages:
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115