--I have been fortunate, as you will see from the enclosed
report. His Majesty cannot again say that I have been neglectful.
I was quite right. It is Sebastian and only Sebastian that we need
fear. Here, they are clumsy conspirators compared to him. I have
been in the river half the night, listening at the open stern window
of a Reval pink to every word they said. His Majesty can safely
come to Konigsberg. Indeed, he is better out of Dantzig. For the
whole country is riddled with that which they call patriotism, and
we, treason. But I can only repeat what His Majesty disbelieved the
day before yesterday--that the heart of the ill is Dantzig, and the
venom of it Sebastian. Who he really is and what he is about, you
must find out how you can. I go forward to-day to Gumbinnen. The
enclosed letter to its address--I beg of you--if only in
acknowledgment of all that I have sacrificed."
The letter was unsigned, but the writing was the writing of Charles
Darragon, and Desiree knew what he had sacrificed--what he could
never recover.
There were two or three more letters addressed to "Dear C.," bearing
no signature, and yet written by Charles. Desiree read them
carefully with a sort of numb attention which photographed them
permanently on her memory like writing that is carved in stone upon
a wall. There must be some explanation in one of them. Who had
sent them to her? Was Charles dead?
At last she came to a sealed envelope addressed to herself by
Charles.
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