They say that the Prussians will turn against him."
"Ah--they say that already?"
"Yes."
He looked at her with a sudden light of anger in his eyes.
"Who has taught you to hate Napoleon?" he asked bluntly.
And again Desiree turned away from his glance as if she could not
meet it.
"No one," she answered.
"It is not the patron," said Barlasch, muttering his thoughts as he
hobbled to the door of his little room, and began unloading his
belongings with a view to ablution; for he was a self-contained
traveller, carrying with him all he required. "It is not the
patron. Because such a hatred as his cannot be spoken of. It is
not your husband, because Napoleon is his god."
He broke off with one of his violent jerks of the head, almost
threatening to dislocate his neck, and looked at her fixedly.
"It is because you have grown into a woman since I went away."
And out came his accusing finger, though Desiree had her back turned
towards him, and there was none other to see.
"Ah!" he said, with deadly contempt, "I see, I see!"
"Did you expect me to grow up into a man?" asked Desiree, over her
shoulder.
Barlasch stood in the doorway, his lips and jaw moving as if he were
masticating winged words. At length, having failed to find a
tremendous answer, he softly closed the door.
This was not the only wise old veteran of the Grand Army to see
which way the wind blew; for many another after the battle of Malo-
Jaroslavetz packed upon his back such spoil as he could carry, and
set off on foot for France.
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