fastened round her waist with pale blue ribbon. For one moment the baron
hesitated. To tear the little creature from her luxurious home, and
trust her to the tender mercies of some rough sailors for a day or two,
and then leave her in the hands of strangers, who might or might not be
kind to her, seemed hard even to the baron, whose mind was warped by
jealousy; but then came the thought that all this luxury with which the
child was so extravagantly surrounded was bad for her; if Mathilde
persisted in pampering her in this way, she would grow up weak and
delicate. The life he had chosen for her was far more healthy; and if
she were inured to a harder life in her infancy, she was much more
likely to develop into a strong, healthy girl; and as he quieted his
conscience with these thoughts his hesitation vanished, and he stooped
to pick her up.

But hark! there was a footstep. Was it Marie returning? What would she
think to find him in the nursery, into whose precincts he had never
before intruded, as the servants all knew well enough? No, it was a
false alarm, no one was coming; and seeing that now or never was the
time for him to carry out his plan, he picked up the baby, folded the
quilted satin coverlet and the fine cambric sheet round it, and covered
its face with a lace handkerchief that lay on the pillow; then, feeling
that the swansdown quilt might not be warm enough on board the yacht, he
glanced round the room, and seeing an Indian shawl which Mathilde often
wore lying on a rocking-chair, he wrapped his burden entirely up in
this, and then dreading every moment the child should cry and betray
him, he stole out of the nursery to the spiral staircase. Here he paused
for a moment to listen, but all he heard was Marie's voice far off
entreating another servant to come and help her to look for the cane, as
Monsieur le Baron was waiting for it.