He went slowly to the window, holding his shaggy head between histwo clenched arms as if to spur his memory to an effort. Then heturned and pointed to the silent form on the bed.

"That is a noble of France," he said; "one of the greatest. And allFrance thinks him dead this twenty years. And I cannot remember hisname--goodness of God--I cannot remember his name!"

CHAPTER XXVIII. VILNA.

It is our trust That there is yet another world to mend All error and mischance.

Louis d'Arragon knew the road well enough from Konigsberg to theNiemen. It runs across a plain, flat as a table, through which manysmall streams seek their rivers in winding beds. This country wasnot thinly inhabited, though the villages had been stripped, asfoliage is stripped by a cloud of locusts. Each cottage had itsring of gold birch-trees to protect it from the winds which sweepfrom the Baltic and the steppe. These had been torn and broken downby the retreating army, in a vain hope of making fire with greenwood.

It really was quite easy to keep in the steps of the retreating army, forthe road was marked by recumbent forms huddled on either side. Fewvehicles had come so far, for the broken country near to Vilna andaround Kowno had presented slopes up which the starving mules wereunable to drag their load.

D'Arragon reached Kowno without mishap, and there found a Russiancolonel of Cossacks whom proved friendly enough, and not onlyappreciated the value of his passport and such letters ofrecommendation as he had been able to procure at Konigsberg, butgave him others, and forwarded him on his journey.

He still nourished a lingering belief in De Casimir's word. Charlesmust have been left way behind at Vilna to recover from his exhaustion.He would, undoubtedly, make his way westward as soon as possible.He might have got away to the South. Any one of these huddled humanlandmarks might be Charles Darragon.