house, wild,
handsome Leon was drowned, and his own poor innocent baby as well,
drowned, and by his fault. He was little better than a murderer, he
thought, in the first outburst of his grief, and he must tell Mathilde,
and perhaps kill her too. How should he ever have the courage to do
this? Strange to say, though perhaps, after all, it was not strange, the
baron was far more cut up at the sad fate of his little girl, whom, a
few days ago, he had been so anxious to get rid of, for a while, at
least, than he was at the news of poor Leon's death. So much hung on the
baby; Mathilde's life might almost be said to depend upon its recovery,
and now he must go and strike the blow which would perhaps kill her.
Pere Yvon was indeed right; his jealousy was truly bringing a terrible
punishment in its train, and the baron buried his face in his hands, and
sobs of bitterest grief shook his whole frame. At last, rousing himself,
he went to the door of the study where the chaplain was engaged teaching
the younger boys, and beckoned him out. Pere Yvon saw at a glance by the
baron's pale, scared face, as well as by the telegram he held in his
hand, that something terrible had happened, and drawing Arnaud into the
nearest room, he asked eagerly what was the matter. The baron answered
by placing the telegram in his hands, and paced the room in a frenzy
while Pere Yvon read it. The chaplain's first thought was for the poor
widowed mother, whose darling son was thus cut off in the beauty of his
youth. He had known her so many years, and had comforted her in so many
sorrows, it was natural he should think of her first, before the other
mother, who had her husband to comfort her, and whose child was only an
infant of a few months old.

"La pauvre baronne! My poor madame! It will break her heart: her darling
son," murmured the chaplain.

"Ah, poor Leon. I can't realise it yet that we shall never see him
again, and my poor, innocent baby too; it will kill Mathilde. Oh, mon
pere, how are we to tell them?" groaned the baron.

"I will tell your mother; it is not the first time I have been the
bearer of ill news to her, and you must break it as gently as you can to
your wife. It is a sad day indeed for this household, but the Lord's
will be done. He knows best, and He will not send any of us more than we
are able to bear," replied Pere Yvon, as he went on his sad mission to
the old baroness.

As he had said, he had broken many sorrows to her,