'One night, after a day's sport in which he had outdone Nimrod or Gillingwater, and slaughtered "another fine bear," and brought him home in triumph, the Baron Von Koeldwethout sat moodily at the head of his table, eyeing the smoky roof of the hall with a discontended aspect.
'"I will!" cried the baron suddenly, smiting the table with his right hand, and twirling his moustache with his left.
"Dinner ready yet?" the Baron enquired, as he hurried into the room.
"True," said the Baron. "The enemy, as I was saying, far outnumbered us: but I marched my men right into the middle of--what's that?" the Military Hero exclaimed in agitated tones, drawing back behind the Vice-Warden, as a strange creature rushed wildly upon them, brandishing a spade.
"Hein!" ejaculated--or, rather, growled--the Baron as he turned towards me in angry surprise.
"Hein!" the Baron vociferated again, with a redoubled growl and a note of growing wrath in his voice.
"To the residence of Baron Danglars, Rue de la Chaussee d'Antin." This conversation had passed as they stood upon the terrace, from which a flight of stone steps led to the carriage-drive.
Having delivered himself of this pompous address, uttered with a degree of energy that left the baron almost out of breath, he bowed to the assembled party and withdrew to his drawing-room, whose sumptuous furnishings of white and gold had caused a great sensation in the Chaussee d'Antin.
It is noon, and we and all the people have been waiting patient for many an hour, and the rumour has run round that slippery John has again escaped from the
Barons' grasp, and has stolen away from Duncroft Hall with his mercenaries at his heels, and will soon be doing other work than signing charters for his people's liberty.
You already, my dear
Baron, know, I think, whither they lead.
At the long table upon which the evening meal was spread sat the entire household of the
Baron, and here and there among the men were evidences of painful wounds but barely healed, while the host himself still wore his sword arm in a sling.
Baron Rivar, again, in his way was another conventional representative of another well-known type.
The assistants, taking their directions more from the
Baron's eye and his hand than his tongue, once more stepped forward, laid hands on the unfortunate Isaac, plucked him up from the ground, and, holding him between them, waited the hard-hearted
Baron's farther signal.
Monsieur Pailleton had been a little taken aback by the visit of the
Baron. He sat now like a man temporarily stupefied.
The first idea that occurred to Milady's mind was that she had been betrayed by Kitty, and that she had recounted to the
baron the selfish aversion toward himself of which she had imprudently allowed some marks to escape before her servant.
