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Updated: June 14, 2025
"What could he hope to gain by doing it?" he had inquired as he walked by Mathilde's side, along the Pfaffengasse. And he made other interrogations respecting D'Arragon which Mathilde was no more able to satisfy, as he accompanied her to the Frauengasse.
The Frauengasse knew that Antoine Sebastian played the fiddle to gain his daily bread, while his two daughters taught dancing for that same safest and most satisfactory of all motives. "But he holds his head so high!" once observed the stout and matter-of-fact daughter of a Councillor. "Why has he that grand manner?" "Because he is a dancing-master," replied Desiree with a grave assurance.
The unrest that entered into the quiet little house on the left-hand side of the Frauengasse had made its way across a thousand thresholds, of Arab tent and imperial palace alike. The lives of millions were affected by it, the secret hopes of thousands were undermined by it. It disturbed the sleep of half the world, and made men old before their time.
The guests De Casimir, the Grafin, Sebastian, Mathilde, Charles! Desiree stood alone now in the silent room. She did not look at the table. The guests were all gone. The dead past had buried its dead. She went to the window and drew aside the curtain as she had drawn it aside on her wedding-day to look down into the Frauengasse and see Louis d'Arragon.
But the change of diet had no beneficial effect, and the next day Desiree sent Barlasch to the house of the doctor whose practice lay in the Frauengasse. He came and shook his head bluntly. For even an old doctor may be hardened at the end of his life by an orgy, as it were, of death.
"I saw him depart with his staff soon after daybreak. And the Emperor has forgotten Dantzig. It is safe enough for the patron now. You can write him a letter to tell him so. Tell him that I said it was safe for him to return quietly here, and live in the Frauengasse I, Barlasch."
I want you here in Dantzig; in the Frauengasse; in this kitchen; under my hand so that I can take care of you till the war is over. I who speak to you Papa Barlasch, at your service. And there is not another man in the world who will do it so well. No; not one." And his eyes flashed as he threw the knives into a drawer. "But why should you do all this for me?" asked Desiree.
For she was young enough to float buoyant upon that sea of hope which ebbs in the course of years and leaves men stranded on the hard facts of life. "You forget," he said in self-defence. "I forget what?" "That a week ago I had never seen Dantzig, or your father, or your sister, or the Frauengasse. A week ago I did not know that there was anybody called Sebastian in the world and did not care."
The servant in her Samland Sunday dress, having shaken her fist at the children, closed the door behind the last guest, and, so far as the Frauengasse was concerned, the exciting incident was over. From the open window came only the murmur of quiet voices, the clink of glasses at the drinking of a toast, or a laugh in the clear voice of the bride herself.
"A brief half-hour and I am with you again. You will stay here till I return." He turned, nodded gaily to Desiree and ran downstairs. Through the open windows they heard his quick, light footfall as he hurried up the Frauengasse. Something made them silent, listening to it. It was not difficult to see that D'Arragon was a sailor.
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