The gaiety lapsed into a sudden silence. He waited for
her to ask a question, but in vain.
"I never saw him again," went on Barlasch, "for the 'general'
sounded, and I went out into the streets to find the city on fire.
In a great army, as in a large country, one may easily lose one's
own brother. But he will return--have no fear. He has good
fortune--the fine gentleman."
He stopped and scratched his head, looked at her sideways with a
grimace of bewilderment.
"It is good news I bring you," he muttered. "He was alive and well
when we began the retreat. He was on the staff, and the staff had
horses and carriages. They had bread to eat, I am told."
"And you--what had you?" asked Desiree, over her shoulder.
"No matter," he answered gruffly, "since I am here."
"And yet you believe in that man still," flashed out Desiree,
turning to face him.
Barlasch held up a warning finger, as if bidding her to be silent on
a subject on which she was not capable of forming a judgment. He
wagged his head from side to side and heaved a sigh.
"I tell you," he said, "I saw his face after Malo-Jaroslavetz; we
lost ten thousand that day. And I was afraid. For I saw in it that
he was going to leave us as he did in Egypt. I am not afraid when
he is there--not afraid of the Devil--or the bon Dieu, but when
Napoleon is not there--" He broke off with a gesture describing
abject terror.
"They say in Dantzig," said Desiree, "that he will never get back
across the Beresina, for the Russians are bringing two armies to
stop him there.
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