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102 THE CONFESSION OF A FOOL
The Baroness noticed it and winced. The Baron glared
at me with jealous rage. At one moment he was jealous
of his wife, at the next he accused me of flirting with
the cousin. Whenever he left his wife, to whisper in a
corner to Matilda, and I started a conversation with the
Baroness, he lost his temper and interrupted our con-
versation with an irrelevant question. I answered him
with a sarcastic smile, and sometimes T took no notice
whatever of him.
One evening we were all having supper in the strictest
family circle. The mother of the Baroness was present.
She had grown fond of me, and with the prevision
frequently met with in old women, suspected that some-
thing was going on behind the scenes.
Following an impulse of motherly love, dreading some
unknown danger, she seized my hands, and holding me
with her eyes said gravely
—
" I’m sure that you’re a man of honour. I don’t know
what’s going on in this house. But promise me that 3’ou
will watch over my daughter, my only child, and if ever
anything should happen . . . which must not happen,
promise that you will come to me and tell me everything."
"I promise," I answered, and kissed her hand in the
Russian fashion, for she had been married to a Russian
for many years and had been left a Avidow not very
long ago.
And I shall keep my promise !
We were dancing on the edge of a crater. The
Baroness had grown pale, emaciated, plain. The Baron
was jealous, rude and insolent. If I stayed away for a
day or two, he sent for me, received me with open arms
and tried to explain everything by a misunderstanding,
while in reality we understood each other only too well.
The Lord knows what was going on in this liouse !
One evening the charming Matilda had retired inho her
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