pour forth an account of his day's observation; in response to which M.
Fontenette, to my amused mystification, led us all in the interest with
which we listened. The Baron forgot his food, and when reminded of it,
pushed it away with a grunt and talked on and on, while we almost forgot
our own.

As we rose to return to the veranda, the Creole still offered him an
undivided attention, which the Baron rewarded with his continued
discourse. As I gave Fontenette a light for his cigarette I held his eye
for a moment with a brightness of face into which I put as significant
approval as I dared; for I fancied the same unuttered word was brooding in
both our hearts: "A new vay to remoof old stains."

Then he turned and gave all his attention once more to the entomologist,
as they walked out upon the gallery together behind their wives. And the
German woman courted the pretty New Englander as sweetly as the Creole
courted her husband, and with twice the energy. She was a bubbling spring
of information in the Baron's science; she was a well of sweet philosophy
on life and conduct, and at every turn of their conversation, always
letting Mrs. Fontenette turn it, she showed her own to be the better mind
and the better training.

When Mrs. Fontenette, before any one else, rose to go--maybe my dislike of
her only made it seem so--but I believed she did it out of pure bafflement
and chagrin.

Not so believed her husband. He responded gratefully; yet lingered, still
listening to the entomologist, until she fondlingly chid him for
forgetting that while he had been all day in his swivel-chair, she had
passed the hours in unusual fatigues!