but breaking off suddenly: "Now if I were like Arobin-you remember Alcee
Arobin and that story of the consul's wife at Biloxi?" And he related
the story of Alcee Arobin and the consul's wife; and another about the
tenor of the French Opera, who received letters which should never
have been written; and still other stories, grave and gay, till Mrs.
Pontellier and her possible propensity for taking young men seriously
was apparently forgotten.

Madame Ratignolle, when they had regained her cottage, went in to take
the hour's rest which she considered helpful. Before leaving her, Robert
begged her pardon for the impatience--he called it rudeness--with which
he had received her well-meant caution.

"You made one mistake, Adele," he said, with a light smile; "there is
no earthly possibility of Mrs. Pontellier ever taking me seriously. You
should have warned me against taking myself seriously. Your advice might
then have carried some weight and given me subject for some reflection.
Au revoir. But you look tired," he added, solicitously. "Would you like
a cup of bouillon? Shall I stir you a toddy? Let me mix you a toddy with
a drop of Angostura."

She acceded to the suggestion of bouillon, which was grateful and
acceptable. He went himself to the kitchen, which was a building apart
from the cottages and lying to the rear of the house. And he himself
brought her the golden-brown bouillon, in a dainty Sevres cup, with a
flaky cracker or two on the saucer.

She thrust a bare, white arm from the curtain which shielded her open
door, and received the cup from his hands. She told him he was a bon
garcon, and she meant it. Robert thanked her and turned away toward "the