United States or Bolivia ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
But D'Arragon knew that Macdonald was likely to be in no better plight than Murat; for it was an open secret in Dantzig that Yorck, with four-fifths of Macdonald's army, was about to abandon him. The road to Kowno was not to be mistaken. On either side of it, like fallen landmarks, the dead lay huddled on the snow.
"Can you give me news of Charles?" Desiree read, in a writing that was unknown to her. "I shall wait a reply until midnight on board the Elsa, lying off the Krahn-Thor." The letter bore the signature, "Louis d'Arragon." Desiree turned slowly and went upstairs, carrying it folded small in her closed hand.
At Kowno the soldiers had broken into the magazines the brandy was poured out in the streets. The men were lying there, the drunken and the dead all confused together on the snow. But there would be no confusion the next morning; for all would be dead." "Was it at Kowno that you left Monsieur d'Arragon?" asked Desiree, in a sharp voice. "No no.
As he fell asleep smiling at these happy reflections, Desiree, far away in Dantzig, was locking in her bureau the letter which had been lost and found again; while, on the deck of his ship, lifting gently to the tideway where the Vistula sweeps out into the Dantziger Bucht, Louis d'Arragon stood fingering reflectively in his jacket-pocket the unread papers which had fallen from the same despatch-case.
D'Arragon frequently came upon a picket as often as not the men were placidly sitting on a frozen corpse, as on a seat and stopped to say a few words and gather news. "You will find your friend at Vilna," said one young officer, who had been attached to General Wilson's staff, and had many stories to tell of the energetic and indefatigable English commissioner.
"For I feel assured," he went on, "that we shall continue to hear good news of your cousin; not only that he is safe and well, but that he makes progress in his profession. He will go far, I am sure." D'Arragon bowed his acknowledgment of this kind thought, and rose rather hastily.
And D'Arragon, looking out of the window, would not answer. She gave a sudden laugh. "One cannot compliment you on your politeness," she said. "Was it for Charles that you had misgivings?" At last D'Arragon turned on his heel. "Does it matter?" he asked. "Since I came too late." "That is true," she said, after a pause. "You came too late; so it doesn't matter.
The cobbler having shown his visitor the room, and pointed out its advantages, was turning to go when D'Arragon, who was laying aside his fur coat, seemed to catch his attention, and he paused on the threshold. "There is French blood in your veins," he said abruptly. "Yes a little." "So. I thought there must be.
"Enough, enough!" he said. "You hurt me. The life is returning now; a drop of brandy perhaps " "There is no brandy in Thorn," said D'Arragon, turning towards the table. "There is only coffee." He busied himself with the cups, and did not look at Desiree when he spoke again. "I have secured two horses," he said, "to enable you to proceed at once, if you are able to.
In passing the letter, the man made a scarcely perceptible movement of the hand which might have been a signal. "No," said D'Arragon, "I do not belong to the Tugendbund or to any other secret society. We have need of no such associations in my country." The cobbler laughed, not without embarrassment. "You have a quick eye," he said. "It is a great country, England.
Word Of The Day