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?"
"I don't know; it depends on the wind. I may run over to England, or I
may only go to the Channel Isles. I shall see."
"Shall you touch anywhere?"
"Oh, yes, I shall go ashore; I shan't take provisions for more than a
week. Why?"
The baron looked round the verandah in which they were sitting to make
sure that they were alone, and having satisfied himself of this he leant
forward and said, in a half-whisper, "Tiens, Leon! Will you help me? I
am determined to stand it no longer; it is wearing my life out; I have
not a moment's peace. If I don't get rid of it I believe I shall go
mad."
"What is it you are talking of? I'll help you if I can, but what is
wearing your life out?" said Leon.
[Illustration: THE BARONESS.]
"The baby, of course," said the baron.
"The baby! Well, but what do you want me to do with that! I can't kill
it, you know.
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