He took the reins, and urged the horses up
the hill without commenting on his encounter, but Desiree could see
that he had heard news.
The inn was outside the town, on the road that follows the Vistula
northwards to Dirschau and Dantzig. The horses were tired, and
stumbled on the powdery snow which was heavy, like sand, and of a
sandy colour. Here and there, by the side of the road, were great
stains of blood and the remains of a horse that had been killed, and
eaten raw. The faces of many of the men were smeared with blood,
which had dried on their cheeks and caked there. Nearly all were
smoke-grimed and had sore eyes.
At last Barlasch spoke, with the decisive air of one who has finally
drawn up a course of action in a difficult position.
"He comes from my own country, that man. You heard us? We spoke
together in our patois. I shall not see him again. He has a
catarrh. When he coughs there is blood. Alas!"
Desiree glanced at the rugged face half turned away from her. She
was not naturally heartless; but she quite forgot to sympathize with
the elderly soldier who had caught a cold on the retreat from
Moscow; for his friend's grief lacked conviction. Barlasch had
heard news which he had decided to keep to himself.
"Has he come from Vilna?" asked Desiree.
"From Vilna--oh yes. They are all from Vilna."
"And he had no news"--persisted she, "of--Captain Darragon?"
"News--oh no! He is a common soldier, and knows nothing of the
officers on the staff.
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