"So far as I know, there is no other Sebastian," replied he; and
Desiree, who had guessed the motive of the question, which must have
been in D'Arragon's mind from the beginning, was startled by the
fulness of the answer. It seemed to make reply to more than
D'Arragon had asked. It shattered the last faint hope that there
might have been another Sebastian of whom Charles had written.
"For myself," said D'Arragon, changing the subject quickly, "I can
now make sure of receiving letters addressed to me in the care of
the English Consul at Riga, or the Consul at Stockholm, should you
wish to communicate with me, or should Madame find leisure to give
me news of her husband."
"Desiree will no doubt take pleasure in keeping you advised of
Charles's progress. As for myself, I fear I am a bad correspondent.
Perhaps not a desirable one in these days," said Sebastian, his face
slowly clearing. He waved the point aside with a gesture that
looked out of place on a hand lean and spare, emerging from a shabby
brown sleeve without cuff or ruffle.
"For I feel assured," he went on, "that we shall continue to hear
good news of your cousin; not only that he is safe and well, but
that he makes progress in his profession. He will go far, I am
sure."
D'Arragon bowed his acknowledgment of this kind thought, and rose
rather hastily.
"My best chance of quitting the city unseen," he said, "is to pass
through the gates with the market-people returning to the villages.
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