The writer shivered and laughed in sheer amusement at his own misery as he drew on his wet clothes. The shoemaker was already astir, and presently knocked at his door.
“Yes, yes,” the soldier cried, “I am astir.”
And as his host rattled the door he opened it. He had unrolled his long cavalry cloak, and wore it over his wet clothes.
“You never told me your name,” said the shoemaker. A suspicious man is always more suspicious at the beginning of the day.
“My name,” answered the other carelessly. “Oh! my name is Max Brunner.”
Celui qui souffle le feu s'expose a etre brule par les etincelles.
It was said that Colonel de Casimir--that guest whose presence and uniform lent an air of distinction to the quiet wedding in the Frauengasse--was a Pole from Cracow. Men also whispered that he was in the confidence of the Emperor. But this must only have been a manner of speaking. For no man was ever admitted fully into the thoughts of that superhuman mind.
De Casimir was left behind in Dantzig when the army moved forward.
“There will be a great battle,” he said, “somewhere near Vilna--and I shall miss it.”
Indeed, every man was striving to get to the front. He who, himself, had given a new meaning to human ambition seemed able to inspire not only Frenchmen but soldiers of every nationality with fire from his own consuming flame.
“Yes! madame,” said de Casimir; for it was to Desiree that he spoke, “and your husband is more fortunate than I. He is sure of a staff appointment. He will be among the first. It will soon be over. To-morrow war is to be declared.”
They were in the street--not far from the Frauengasse, whence Desiree, always practical, was hurrying towards the market-place. De Casimir had seemed idle until he perceived her.
Desiree made a little movement of horror at the announcement. She did not know that the fighting had already begun.
“Ah!” cried de Casimir with a reassuring smile. “You must be of good cheer. There will be no war at all. I tell you that in confidence. Russia will be paralyzed. I was going towards the Frauengasse when I perceived you; to pay my respects to your father, to say a word to you. Come--you are smiling again. That is right. You were so grave, madame, as you hurried along with your eyes looking far away. You must not think of Charles, if the thoughts make you look as you looked then.”