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Updated: June 14, 2025
Like plants in mines which never saw the sun, But dream of him and guess where he may be, And do their best to climb and get to him. "Oh yes," Barlasch was saying, "it is easier to die it is that that you are thinking it is easier to die." Desiree did not answer. She was sitting in the little kitchen at the back of the house in the Frauengasse.
"I must try the other one," he said to himself as he turned down the Pfaffengasse. He continued his way at a leisurely pace. At the corner of the Frauengasse he lingered in the shadow of the linden trees, and while so doing saw Antoine Sebastian quit the door of No. 36, going in the opposite direction towards the river, and pass out through the Frauenthor on to the quay.
"Good. Yes. I am quartered here. Thirty-six, Frauengasse. Sebastian; musician. You are lucky to get me. I always give satisfaction ha!" He gave a curt laugh in one syllable only. His left arm was curved round a bundle of wood bound together by a red pocket-handkerchief not innocent of snuff.
"There is a man at Zoppot who will tell you," she answered. "Then I go to Zoppot." Barlasch had lived unmolested in the Frauengasse since his return. He was an old man, ill-clad, with a bloody handkerchief bound over one eye.
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