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A smile of bitter humor passed over his face, and he looked for a near seat, saying: "How's Frowenfeld?" Raoul struck an ecstatic attitude and stretched forth his hand as if the doctor could not fail to grasp it. The invalid's heart sank like lead. "Frowenfeld has got her," he thought. "Well?" said he with a frown of impatience and restraint; and Raoul cried: "I sole my pigshoe!"
Said Raoul, with an unsteady utterance, as he slammed the drawer: "H-h-dat makes me dat I can't 'elp to laugh w'en I t'ink of dat fool yesse'dy w'at want to buy my pigshoe for honly one 'undred dolla' ha, ha ha, ha!" He laughed almost indecorously. "Raoul," said Frowenfeld, rising and closing his eyes, "I am going back for my hat.
Joseph was sitting in M. Grandissime's private office, in council with him and the ladies, and Aurora was just saying: "Well, anny'ow, 'Sieur Frowenfel', ad laz you consen'!" and gathering her veil from her lap, when Raoul burst in, all sweat and rage. "'Sieur Frowenfel', we ruin'! Ow pharmacie knock all in pieces! My pigshoe is los'!" He dropped into a chair and burst into tears.
"'Sieur Frowenfel'," he called from under the counter, later in the day, "you t'ink it would be hanny disgrace to paint de pigshoe of a niggah?" "Certainly not." "Ah, my soul! what a pigshoe I could paint of Bras-Coupé!" We have the afflatus in Louisiana, if nothing else.
"Louisiana rif-using to hanter de h-Union!" replied the Creole, with an ecstasy that threatened to burst forth in hip-hurrahs. Joseph said nothing, but silently wondered at Louisiana's anatomy. "Gran' subjec'!" said the Creole. "Allegorical," replied the hard-pressed apothecary. "Allegoricon? No, sir! Allegoricon never saw dat pigshoe.
"You don't mean to say " "Yesseh!" "Agricola and Sylvestre?" "W'at de dev'! No! Burr an' 'Ammiltong; in Noo-Juzzy-las-June. Collonnel Burr, 'e " "Oh, fudge! yes. How is Frowenfeld?" "'E's well. Guess 'ow much I sole my pigshoe." "Well, how much?" "Two 'ondred fifty." He laid himself out at length, his elbow on the deck, his head in his hand. "I believe I'm sorry I sole 'er." "I don't wonder.
'Sieur Frowenfel'? Dat de way de publique halways talk about a hartis's firs' pigshoe. But, I hass you to pardon me, Monsieur Frowenfel', if I 'ave speak a lill too warm." "Then you must forgive me if, in my desire to set you right, I have spoken with too much liberty. I probably should have said only what I first intended to say, that unless you are a person of independent means "
If you insist to know who make dat pigshoe de hartis' stan' bif-ore you!" "It is your work?" "'Tis de work of me, Raoul Innerarity, cousin to de disting-wish Honoré Grandissime. I swear to you, sir, on stack of Bible' as 'igh as yo' head!" He smote his breast. "Do you wish to put it in the window?" "Yes, seh." "For sale?"
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