Charles Darragon wore one of the countless uniforms that enlivened
the outward world in the great days of the greatest captain that
history has seen. He was unmistakably French--unmistakably a French
gentleman, as rare in 1812 as he is to-day. To judge from his small
head and clean-cut features, fine and mobile; from his graceful
carriage and slight limbs, this man was one of the many bearing
names that begin with the fourth letter of the alphabet since the
Terror only.

He was merely a lieutenant in a regiment of Alsatian recruits; but
that went for nothing in the days of the Empire. Three kings in
Europe had begun no farther up the ladder.

The Frauengasse is a short street, made narrow by the terrace that
each house throws outward from its face, each seeking to gain a few
inches on its neighbour. It runs from the Marienkirche to the
Frauenthor, and remains to-day as it was built three hundred years
ago.

Desiree nodded and laughed to the children, who interested her. She
was quite simple and womanly, as some women, it is to be hoped, may
succeed in continuing until the end of time. She was always pleased
to see children; was glad, it seemed, that they should have
congregated on the steps to watch her pass. Charles, with a faint
and unconscious reflex of that grand manner which had brought his
father to the guillotine, felt in his pocket for money, and found
none.

He jerked his hand out with widespread fingers, in a gesture
indicative of familiarity with the nakedness of the land.