ncipation
that comes with love; they perceive what that sentiment is about to take
from them; but they have, at the same time, a sense of joy in knowing
that their sons are happy; conflicting feelings battle in their hearts.
Though the result may be the development of their sons into superior
men, true mothers do not like this forced abdication; they would rather
keep their children small and still requiring protection. Perhaps that
is the secret of their predilection for feeble, deformed, or weak-minded
offspring.

"You are tired, dear child; go to bed," she said, repressing her tears.

A mother who does not know all that her son is doing thinks the worst;
that is, if a mother loves as much and is as much beloved as Fanny.
But perhaps all other mothers would have trembled now as she did. The
patient care of twenty years might be rendered worthless. This human
masterpiece of virtuous and noble and religious education, Calyste,
might be destroyed; the happiness of his life, so long and carefully
prepared for, might be forever ruined by this woman.

The next day Calyste slept till mid-day, for his mother would not have
him wakened. Mariotte served the spoiled child's breakfast in his bed.
The inflexible and semi-conventual rules which regulated the hours for
meals yielded to the caprices of the chevalier. If it became desirable
to extract from Mademoiselle du Guenic her array of keys in order to
obtain some necessary article of food outside of the meal hours, there
was no other means of doing it than to make the pretext of its serving
some fancy of Calyste.

About one o'clock the baron, his wife, and Mademoiselle were seated
in the salon, for they dined at three o'clock. The baroness was again
reading the "Quotidienne" to her husband, who was always more awake
before the dinner hour. As she finished a paragraph she heard the steps
of her son on the upper floor, and she dropped the paper, saying:--

"Calyste must be going to dine again at Les Touches; he has dressed
himself."

"He amuses himself, the dear boy," said the old sister, taking a silver
whistle from her pocket and whistling once.

Mariotte came through the tower and appeared at the door of
communication which was hidden by a silken curtain like the other doors
of the room.

"What is it?" she said; "anything wanted?"

"The chevalier dines at Les Touches; don't cook the fish."

"But we are not sure as yet," said the baroness.

"You seem annoyed, sist