baroness’s mind so sure and infallible that all her being exulted over it. Now she knew how to get the better of Mundy; and then, let it cost what it might, only then it would be proper and timely to make him marry. That her intended plan might prove fatal to herself, did not come into her head. With a firm, steady step she got out of the carriage at Labutín Castle, and went up the stairs to her rooms as quickly and lightly as twenty years ago.
In the evening, about nine o’clock, she had Mundy called into her business-room. When he came, she conferred with him about some farming concerns for half an hour or so, just to keep him in his everyday frame of mind, and not to arouse any suspicion, intending then to take him unawares and to surprise him more effectually.
This part of her plan succeeded perfectly. Mundy discussed everything with her that she wished—sometimes taking the same view as she did, sometimes holding a different opinion, but in the end agreeing with his mother on all important points.
Suddenly the baroness began to touch upon another string.
“I must ask you, dear Mundy, to do me another little service,” she said, to all appearance carelessly, but inwardly all ablaze with emotion, which made her feel as if a swarm of ants was creeping down her back and limbs.
“Command me, mother. I shall be glad to do anything you want,” answered the baron.
“I want to have a letter written, which is in some degree rather an important one. Sit down at my writing-table and I shall dictate to you. Take a sheet of fools cap.”
