At half-past six a soldier brought a hurried note from Charles.

"I cannot return to-night, as I am about to start for Konigsberg,"
he wrote. "It is a commission which I could not refuse if I wished
to. You, I know, would have me go and do my duty."

There was more which Desiree did not read aloud. Charles had always
found it easy enough to tell Desiree how much he loved her, and was
gaily indifferent to the ears of others. But she seemed to be
restrained by some feeling which had found birth in her heart during
her wedding day. She said nothing of Charles's protestations of
love.

"Decidedly," she said, folding the letter, and placing it in her
work-basket, "Fate is interfering in our affairs to-day."

She turned to her work again without further complaint, almost with
a sense of relief. Mathilde, whose steady grey eyes saw everything,
penetrating every thought, glanced at her with a suddenly aroused
interest. Desiree herself was half surprised at the philosophy with
which she met this fresh misfortune.

Antoine Sebastian had never acquired the habit of drinking tea in
the evening, which had found favour in these northern countries
bordering on Russia. Instead, he usually went out at this time to
one of the many wine-rooms or Bier Halles in the town to drink a
slow and meditative glass of beer with such friends as he had made
in Dantzig. For he was a lonely man, whose face was quite familiar
to many who looked for a bow or a friendly salutation in vain.