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 to a servant at his elbow; but he vouchsafed no further answer.

“I think Arnaut has suggested that the baby should be sent away, but Mathilde objects,” remarked the old baroness.

“Send it away without asking her, then.  Give her a pug instead; it will be much more amusing, and not half the trouble the baby is,” said Leon.

Here the servant returned to say madame would take her dejeuner in the nursery, as the nurse was out and she could not leave the baby.

“Really, Mathilde is too absurd, when there are at least three or four other servants in the house who could look after the baby as well as the nurse,” said the old baroness, helping herself to some omelette.

“She is mad,” muttered the baron, angrily.

“Quite, all women are; there can be no doubt about that.  Look here, Arnaut, it is quite clear if you don’t send that infant away, you might just as well live en garcon, like me, as I foresee you won’t have much of Mathilde’s society now,” said Leon.

“It does not require much foresight to predict that,” said the baron, bitterly.

“Well, if Mathilde won’t send it away, just hand it over to me the next time I take a cruise, which will be as soon as ever there is wind enough to fill my sails, and I’ll place the child somewhere where there is no fear of Mathilde getting it again till it is of a reasonable age,” said Leon.

The idea of handing the baby over to the tender mercies of Leon struck them all as so comic that a general laugh, in which all but the baron joined, greeted this speech, which was forgotten as soon as it was uttered by the speaker.

A few days after Leon announced that he was going on board his yacht that evening; a south wind was blowing, and he should take a cruise up the Channel.  Would the baron go with him?  They were sure to have fine weather, and it would be delightful at sea in this heat.  The baron declined the invitation, as he was a wretched sailor; but that evening, when he and Leon were smoking after dinner, he said, suddenly, “Where are you going, Leon?”