"
"We have been friends since--that day--when you were married?"
"Yes," answered Desiree.
"Then between friends," said Barlasch, gruffly; "it is not necessary
to smile--like that--when it is tears that are there."
Desiree laughed.
"Would you have me weep?" she asked.
"It would hurt one less," said Barlasch, attending to his horses.
They were in the town now, and the narrow streets were crowded.
Many sick and wounded were dragging themselves wearily along. A few
carts, drawn by starving horses, went slowly down the hill. But
there was some semblance of order, and thus men had the air and
carriage of soldiers under discipline. Barlasch was quick to see
it.
"It is the Fourth Corps. The Viceroy's army. They have done well.
He is a soldier, who commands them. Ah! There is one I know."
He threw the reins to Desiree, and in a moment he was out on the
snow. A man, as old, it would seem, as himself, in uniform and
carrying a musket, was marching past with a few men who seemed to be
under his orders, though his uniform was long past recognition. He
did not perceive, for some minutes, that Barlasch was coming towards
him, and then the process of recognition was slow. Finally, he laid
aside his musket, and the two old men gravely kissed each other.
Quite forgetful of Desiree, they stood talking together for twenty
minutes. Then they gravely embraced once more, and Barlasch
returned to the sleigh.
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