When their eyes met again, the glasses of cordial were at their lips.
He held her look by the intentional warmth and meaning of his own,
drinking very slowly to the last drop; and then, like a bon viveur, drew
a breath of air through his open mouth, and nodded his satisfaction.

"By Jove, but it is good stuff!" he said. "Here's to the nun that made
it," he added, making a motion to drink from the empty glass.

Sophie had not drunk all her cordial. At least one third of it was still
in the glass. She turned her head away, a little dismayed by his toast.

"Come, that's not fair," he said. "That elixir shouldn't be wasted.
Voila, every drop of it now!" he added, with an insinuating smile and
gesture.

"Oh, m'sieu'!" she said in protest, but drank it off. He still held the
empty glass in his hand, twisting it round musingly.

"A little more, m'sieu'?" she asked, "just a little?" Perhaps she was
surprised that he did not hesitate. He instantly held out his glass.

"It was made by a saint; the result should be health and piety--I need
both," he added, with a little note of irony in his voice.

"So, once again, my giver of good gifts--to you!" He raised his glass
again, toasting her, but paused. "No, this won't do; you must join me,"
he added.

"Oh, no, m'sieu', no! It is not possible. I feel it now in my head and
in all of me. Oh, I feel so warm all, through, and my heart it beats so