The Girls Own Paper, Vol. VIII, No. 354, October 9, 1886 | Page 2

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.
"Be quick, Marie, I can't wait much longer," shouted the baron, and then, quick as thought, he dived down the spiral staircase, in his haste nearly precipitating himself and his little daughter, who still slept peacefully, to the bottom.
To let himself out at the side door was the work of a moment; and now, unless surprised by any of the servants who might be loitering about in the shrubberies with their lovers, he was safe. He had only to run down a winding path of about two hundred yards across the grounds to the gate where Léon was awaiting him. Once the baron started like a robber at a rustling in the bushes as he passed, but it was only a cat, and once again he breathed freely, and in less than five minutes from the time he entered the nursery he stood on the road by the side of the dogcart.
"Is it you, Arnaut?" asked Léon, anxiously peering through the twilight at his brother.
"Yes, yes, it is all right; here it is," said the baron, holding the bundle up to Léon.
"How on earth am I to take it? Where is its head? Can't you nurse it till we get to the yacht?" said Léon.
"No; how should I drive with this thing in my arms? Here, give me the reins, and take hold. This is its head. Thank you," said the baron, with an immense sigh of relief as he handed the baby to Léon.
Léon took the bundle so reluctantly, and handled it as delicately as if it were a piece of priceless china he was afraid of breaking by a touch, that the baron, who was not in the best of tempers, in spite of his successful expedition, growled out, "It won't bite you; you needn't be afraid."
"I am not, but my dear Arnaut you might make allowances; I never had a baby in my arms before in my life. I daresay I shall get used to it in time; use is second nature, they say. But I say, I don't believe it ought to be bundled up in this way; it can't breathe; it will be suffocated; I shall open this shawl a little," said Léon, proceeding to do so, and being immediately rewarded by a long, wailing cry from the infant.
"There," said the baron, with an impatient exclamation, "now you have woke it. Why didn't you leave it alone?"
"My dear fellow, it would never have woke again if I had; the poor little creature was choking," said Léon, sitting the baby up on his knees, as if it were a year old instead of a few months.
"It will cry the whole way now, and, if we meet anyone, betray our secret," grumbled the baron.
"Well, I'd rather it cried than have it suffocated, as it infallibly would have been but for me. Baby, in future years you may thank your uncle Léon for saving your life. Perhaps if I whistle it will stop howling. I'll try," said Léon, whistling, in which art he was a great adept.
But whistling had no effect on the baby, unless it was to make it cry louder, and Léon was in despair, and the baron getting furious, until it suddenly occurred to the former to jump the child up and down, as he had seen Mathilde do. This was successful; as long as Léon danced it about it was quiet; the moment he stopped it began to cry.
"I wish old Pierre joy if he has to spend the next twenty-four hours in this way. Drive on, Arnaut; my arms are aching so I can't keep this game