The girl came running to do her master's bidding, and no sooner had the white streamers of her cap disappeared down the corridor than the baron darted into the nursery. A lamp was burning on a table at one end of the room, and at the other, carefully guarded from any draught by a folding-screen, stood a swinging-cradle, on pedestals of silver. The framework, the baron knew, was an old family relic, but the cradle itself was a new and wonderful creation of white swansdown and blue satin, lined with lace and trimmed with pale blue ribbons. In this mass of satin and lace lay the baron's tiny daughter, fast asleep, her small fingers grasping a lovely toy of pink coral with golden bells, which was 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. "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.