them come near him, or something dreadful will surely happen.”
And before the priest could answer, Naninka was gone.
It was the carriage from the castle, sure enough! In it sat the baroness; opposite to her the overseer’s wife; and on the box beside the coachman Mr. Ferdinand was enthroned in all his glory.
The baroness had spent a very bad and restless night. Having given up the plan in which Ledecký was to have acted as a sort of screen, she racked her brains to find another more suitable to the circumstances. At last she made out a line of action for herself, and determined to carry it into execution the very next day.
In the morning she went through all her business as usual; it even seemed to Mundy that she was especially cheerful. She passed a couple of hours with him beside her, and listened with attention and interest to some episodes of his late travels; even made here and there a funny remark, which with her was a very rare thing, and only happened when she was in her very best humour.
After twelve o’clock she ordered the carriage to be brought round, pretending she would go to one of the farms to look at the crops. She asked neither Mundy nor her daughter to accompany her. But there was nothing strange in this, as she generally drove out by herself; and the baron had not the least idea that this particular drive might turn out perhaps fatally for him.
She drove to the farm spoken of, and took the overseer’s wife away with her. This gave Mr. Ferdinand something to think of. The woman had a baby at her breast; did the baroness perhaps He gave way to adventurous fancies on his box.
