He drew
her attention to a little pool of beer on the table, and stood until
she had made good this lapse in her duty. Then he pointed to
Sebastian's mug of beer and dismissed her giggling, to get one for
him of the same size and contents.
Making sure that there was no one within earshot, he waited until
Sebastian's dreamy eye met his, and then said--
"It is time we understood each other."
A light of surprise--passing and half-indifferent--flashed into
Sebastian's eyes and vanished again at once when he saw Barlasch had
meant nothing: made no sign or countersign with his hand.
"By all means, my friend," he answered.
"I delivered your letters," said Barlasch, "at Thorn and at the
other places."
"I know; I have already had answers. You would be wise to forget
the incident."
Barlasch shrugged his shoulders.
"You were paid," said Sebastian, jumping to a natural conclusion.
"A little," admitted Barlasch, "a small little--but it was not that.
I always get paid in advance, when I can. Except by the Emperor.
He owes me some--that citizen. It was another question. In the
house I am friends with all--with Lisa who has gone--with
Mademoiselle Mathilde who has gone--with Mademoiselle Desiree, so-
called Madame Darragon, who remains. With all except you. Why
should we not be friends?"
"But we are friends--" protested Sebastian, with a bow. As if in
confirmation of the statement, he held out his beer-mug, and
Barlasch touched it with the rim of his own before drinking.
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