"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 very fast! Oh, no, m'sieu', no more!"
Her cheeks were glowing, and her eyes had become softer and more brilliant under the influence of the potent liqueur.
"Well, well, I'll let you off this time; but next time—next time, remember."
He raised the glass once more, and let the cordial drain down lazily.
He had said, "next time"—she noticed that. He seemed very fond of this strong liqueur. She placed the bottle on the table, her own glass beside it.
"For a minute, a little minute," she said suddenly, and went quickly into the other room.