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.
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