At the beginning of the first summer months, a little domestic
inconvenience happened, which showed the baroness, for the first
time, that her husband's temper could be seriously ruffled--and
that by the veriest trifle. He was in the habit of taking in two
French provincial newspapers--one published at Bordeaux and the
other at Havre. He always opened these journals the moment they
came, looked at one particular column of each with the deepest
attention, for a few minutes, then carelessly threw them aside
into his waste-paper basket. His wife and her sister were at
first rather surprised at the manner in which he read his two
papers; but they thought no more of it when he explained that he
only took them in to consult them about French commercial
intelligence, which might be, occasionally, of importance to him.
These papers were published weekly. On the occasion to which I
have just referred, the Bordeaux paper came on the proper day, as
usual; but the Havre paper never made its appearance. This
trifling circumstance seemed to make the baron seriously uneasy.
He wrote off directly to the country post-office and to the
newspaper agent in London. His wife, astonished to see his
tranquillity so completely overthrown by so slight a cause, tried
to restore his good humor by jesting with him about the missing
newspaper. He replied by the first angry and unfeeling words that
she had heard issue from his lips.
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