Sebastian read the letter in one quick glance—and then fell to thinking.
“It is time to quit Dantzig,” said Barlasch quietly, as if he had divined the old man's thoughts. “I know Rapp. There will be trouble—here, on the Vistula.”
But Sebastian dismissed the suggestion with a curt shake of the head.
Barlasch's attention had been somewhat withdrawn by a smell of cooking meat, to which he opened his nostrils frankly and noisily after the manner of a dog.
“Then it remains,” he said, looking towards the kitchen, “for Mademoiselle to make her choice.”
“There is no choice,” replied Desiree, “I shall be ready to go with you—when you have eaten.”
“Good,” said Barlasch, and the word applied as well to Lisa, who was beckoning to him.
CHAPTER XXI. ON THE WARSAW ROAD.
Oft expectation fails, and most oft there
Where it most promises; and oft it hits
Where hope is coldest and despair most sits.