while Père 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 Léon. 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
père, 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 Père Yvon, as he went on his sad mission to
the old baroness.

As he had said, he had broken many sorrows to her, but he had never had
to deal a heavier blow than when he told her her favourite son was
drowned, the son of whom she was so proud, whom she loved better than
all her other children; but the baroness was a saintly woman, and one of
her first sayings after she heard the news was, "Mon père, it is hard,
but it is just--he was my idol."

She did not grieve in any extravagant way; she did not absent herself
from any meals; she attended mass, for she was a devout Catholic, in the