"
"Don't be too secure," said the sculptor, shaking his head. "There
are other tempests besides those in the clouds. When the next war
comes in western Europe Belgium will be the battle-field. Beech-wood
is very good to burn."
"God forbid," said the baron devoutly. "We have had peace for a
quarter of a century. Why should it not last?"
"Ask the wise men of the East," replied the sculptor grimly.
When he was a little past fifty the baron married, with steadfast
choice and deep affection, the orphan daughter of a noble family
of Hainault. She was about half his age; of a tranquil, cheerful
temper and a charm that depended less on feature than on expression;
a lover of music, books, and a quiet life. She brought him a small
dowry by which the chateau was restored to comfort, and bore him
two children, a boy and a girl, by whom it was enlivened with
natural gayety. The next twenty years were the happiest that Albert
d'Azan and his wife ever saw. The grand avenue of beeches became
to them the unconscious symbol of something settled and serene,
august, protective, sacred.
Pages:
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49