h of his time. The baron's
studious nature had endeared him very much to Pere Yvon, with whom he
was a prime favourite, and who had never shown him any of the severity
of which the other brothers often complained, but, on the contrary, had
erred on the opposite side with the baron, whose wishes had never been
crossed in any way, and who had grown up to think himself the one
important person in the world to whom the convenience of everyone else
must be sacrificed.

For the first year of their married life the pretty baroness had
contributed as much as Pere Yvon to spoil her husband, whose every whim
she had humoured until her baby was born, and then, much to his
astonishment, the baron found that his beautiful, gentle wife had a will
of her own, and, what was still worse in his eyes, a large place in her
heart for someone else besides himself, and although that someone else
was only his infant daughter, the baron was jealous.

In vain had he urged that the baby should be sent away to some peasant
to nurse until it was a year or two old, as he and all his brothers had
been, after a very common custom in French families. No, the baroness
would not hear of such a thing; she could not live without her baby, and
every moment she could spare she spent by its cradle. Indeed, so
infatuated was she with her new possession, whose every movement was a
delight to her, that she did not notice the baron became daily more and
more morose, and that an ominous frown had settled on his fine forehead,
while his mouth was closed with a determination that boded ill for his
wife and daughter. But the baroness lived so much in her child that she
did not observe the change in her husband; and as he never allowed the
baby to be brought into his presence, the baroness saw but little of him
except at meals, when all the others were present, and Leon's wild
spirits covered his brother's depression and silence.

At last, one fine June morning, matters reached a climax, when the
family sat down to their one o'clock _dejeuner_. The baroness was late;
the first course was finished, and still she did not appear.

"Where is Mathilde, Arnaut?" asked the old baroness.

"I don't know," said the baron, sulkily.

"I do," said Leon; "she is worshipping at the shrine of that precious
baby of yours, Arnaut. Why on earth don't you send it away till it is
old enough to amuse us?"

"Go and tell Madame la Baronne the soup is already finished," said the
baron