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Article MONSIEUR LE BARON. ← Page 2 of 4 →
Note: This text has been automatically extracted via Optical Character Recognition (OCR) software.
Monsieur Le Baron.
The Baron made no reply . His gaze rested unconsciously on the violets , fading in then glass , and his thoughts went back to Celeste . Nonsense ; how could he marry a woman who was dead , for all he knew to the contrary . Eising , he pulled
the bell impatiently . "Hansel , the carriage . Come , my friend , let us go to the opera ?" But again and again his friend ' s advice recurred to him Why should he not marry ? He thought of the women he
knew ; most of them were frivolous , and too gay for his quiet German home . There was the English widow up stairs ; she was young and pretty . He had met her once or twice . Once he had called , but her aunt was tiresome to the last
degree , and he had vowed never to go again ; but one day he broke his resolution , and once more entered their pretty drawing-room . His call was a long one , and the pretty widow confided to him how wearisome this
living in lodgings was to her . " I have such a pretty home , but we are living in this tiresome Paris on account of Fred , my aunt ' s son , who is here . "
" Why , my dear , / was quite willing to stay in England ; " and her aunt looked up from her knitting with languid surprise . The niece blushed and changed the subject . The Baron took some pains to become acquainted with this " Fred , " and soon spent many of his hours with the pretty widow , besides being the invariable fourth hi all their parties for pleasure .
" Alt , Mademoiselle , the Baron will take a wife with him in the spring . The English lady lias put off her mourning alread y . " Picot looked reprovingly at his wife ; then from her to the figure standing in the door .
" One must not listen to all Jeanette ' s gossip , Mademoiselle , " he said , noting the look of blank despair that had settled on the pale , tired face . " Come in , Mademoiselle ; you are ill ; " and Jeanette bustled about , placing a chair .
But Celeste shook her head . " No , I am only tired ; I will go up to my room . " As she walked swiftly and noiselessly along the hall she heard voices talking :
the Baron ' s deep Ml tones , and , mingled with them , the sweet treble of the English widow . Then she heard the clatter of plates , and , speeding up the stairs , she threw herself on the floor by the window with a low sob . " He is at dinner there with themand I am hungry , " and the
, tears flowed freely at the thought of her long fast , for which in reality she scarcely cared , so common was it . A carriage rattled up the street , and presently the Baron appeared in full evening dress . He handed the two ladies
into the carriage , and then sprang in himself . They waited a moment , and Celeste had time to notice how carefully the Baron wrapped the younger lady ' s cloak about her white shoulders , and how sweetly she smiled her thanks . Then her cousin
hurried out with her fan , and entering the carriage they drove quickly off . " I will wait till they come back , perhaps he has gone to marry her , " and poor Celeste smiled bitterly . But long before they returned she had sobbed herself to sleep . The moonbeams stole' in at the window , and shone softly on her wet eye-lashes , but their light touch did not '
wake her . Stir not the leaves , oh sighing wind ! she is dreaming of her lover as he was long years ago . His arm is around her—his blue eyes shine upon her faceshe cannot speak . She tries to tell him of her long sorrowful waiting , but she can only sob out her thankfulness that it has
passed . Many a night Celeste knelt at the window , and watched and waited for the Baron . Sometimes she fell asleep at her post , but oftener she saw him coming home handsome , happy , with a smile on his
grave face . She heard the gay " goodnights " in the hall , and then with a sigh she threw herself upon her couch to dream fitful , troubled dreams , till the gray dawn stole in and woke her to the duties of the day . Once tired by her long watch for
the Baron , who had , this time , gone out alone , she fell asleep in her chair . She dreamed of the firing of guns ; a procession passed—soldiers ; behind a bier a riderless horse was led . They uncovered the bier , and she saw the face of the Baron ; she
drew her breath sobbingly . Then she heard some one knocking ; the noise grew louder . " Mademoiselle Celeste , it is I , Jeanette . "
Note: This text has been automatically extracted via Optical Character Recognition (OCR) software.
Monsieur Le Baron.
The Baron made no reply . His gaze rested unconsciously on the violets , fading in then glass , and his thoughts went back to Celeste . Nonsense ; how could he marry a woman who was dead , for all he knew to the contrary . Eising , he pulled
the bell impatiently . "Hansel , the carriage . Come , my friend , let us go to the opera ?" But again and again his friend ' s advice recurred to him Why should he not marry ? He thought of the women he
knew ; most of them were frivolous , and too gay for his quiet German home . There was the English widow up stairs ; she was young and pretty . He had met her once or twice . Once he had called , but her aunt was tiresome to the last
degree , and he had vowed never to go again ; but one day he broke his resolution , and once more entered their pretty drawing-room . His call was a long one , and the pretty widow confided to him how wearisome this
living in lodgings was to her . " I have such a pretty home , but we are living in this tiresome Paris on account of Fred , my aunt ' s son , who is here . "
" Why , my dear , / was quite willing to stay in England ; " and her aunt looked up from her knitting with languid surprise . The niece blushed and changed the subject . The Baron took some pains to become acquainted with this " Fred , " and soon spent many of his hours with the pretty widow , besides being the invariable fourth hi all their parties for pleasure .
" Alt , Mademoiselle , the Baron will take a wife with him in the spring . The English lady lias put off her mourning alread y . " Picot looked reprovingly at his wife ; then from her to the figure standing in the door .
" One must not listen to all Jeanette ' s gossip , Mademoiselle , " he said , noting the look of blank despair that had settled on the pale , tired face . " Come in , Mademoiselle ; you are ill ; " and Jeanette bustled about , placing a chair .
But Celeste shook her head . " No , I am only tired ; I will go up to my room . " As she walked swiftly and noiselessly along the hall she heard voices talking :
the Baron ' s deep Ml tones , and , mingled with them , the sweet treble of the English widow . Then she heard the clatter of plates , and , speeding up the stairs , she threw herself on the floor by the window with a low sob . " He is at dinner there with themand I am hungry , " and the
, tears flowed freely at the thought of her long fast , for which in reality she scarcely cared , so common was it . A carriage rattled up the street , and presently the Baron appeared in full evening dress . He handed the two ladies
into the carriage , and then sprang in himself . They waited a moment , and Celeste had time to notice how carefully the Baron wrapped the younger lady ' s cloak about her white shoulders , and how sweetly she smiled her thanks . Then her cousin
hurried out with her fan , and entering the carriage they drove quickly off . " I will wait till they come back , perhaps he has gone to marry her , " and poor Celeste smiled bitterly . But long before they returned she had sobbed herself to sleep . The moonbeams stole' in at the window , and shone softly on her wet eye-lashes , but their light touch did not '
wake her . Stir not the leaves , oh sighing wind ! she is dreaming of her lover as he was long years ago . His arm is around her—his blue eyes shine upon her faceshe cannot speak . She tries to tell him of her long sorrowful waiting , but she can only sob out her thankfulness that it has
passed . Many a night Celeste knelt at the window , and watched and waited for the Baron . Sometimes she fell asleep at her post , but oftener she saw him coming home handsome , happy , with a smile on his
grave face . She heard the gay " goodnights " in the hall , and then with a sigh she threw herself upon her couch to dream fitful , troubled dreams , till the gray dawn stole in and woke her to the duties of the day . Once tired by her long watch for
the Baron , who had , this time , gone out alone , she fell asleep in her chair . She dreamed of the firing of guns ; a procession passed—soldiers ; behind a bier a riderless horse was led . They uncovered the bier , and she saw the face of the Baron ; she
drew her breath sobbingly . Then she heard some one knocking ; the noise grew louder . " Mademoiselle Celeste , it is I , Jeanette . "