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Updated: June 17, 2025
When Aurora attempted to tell those experiences, even leaving Bras-Coupé as much as might be out of the recital, she choked with tears at the very start, stopped, laughed, and said: "C'est tout daz all. 'Sieur Frowenfel', oo you fine dad pigtu' to loog lag, yonnah, hon de wall?"
"Doze Creole' is lezzy," said Aurora. "That is a hard word to apply to those who do not consciously deserve it," said Frowenfeld; "but if they could only wake up to the fact, find it out themselves " "Ceddenly," said Clotilde. "'Sieur Frowenfel'," said Aurora, leaning her head on one side, "some pipple thing it is doze climade; 'ow you lag doze climade?"
When shall we ever get through these exciting times?" "Oh! M'sieur Frowenfel', tague me ad home!" It was Aurora, who caught the apothecary's arm vehemently in both her hands with a look of beautiful terror. And whatever Joseph's astronomy might have previously taught him to the contrary, he knew by his senses that the earth thereupon turned entirely over three times in two seconds.
He told her in confidence that "Profess-or Frowenfel'" was the best man in the world; but she boldly said, taking pains to speak with a tear-and-a-half of genuine gratitude, "Egcep' Monsieur Honoré Grandissime," and he assented, at first with hesitation and then with ardor.
"If Professo' Frowenfel' 's in?" replied a young man in shirt-sleeves, speaking rapidly, slapping a paper package which he had just tied, and sliding it smartly down the counter. "No, seh." A quick step behind the doctor caused him to turn; Raoul was just entering, with a bright look of business on his face, taking his coat off as he came. "Docta Keene! Teck a chair. 'Ow you like de noo sto'? See?
"'Sieur Frowenfel', if you pliz to come in," said Aurora, and the timid apothecary would have bravely accepted the invitation, but for a quick look which he saw the daughter give the mother; whereupon he asked, instead, permission to call at some future day, and received the cordial leave of Aurora and another bow from Clotilde. Do we not fail to accord to our nights their true value?
"No, sir," said Joseph, proceeding to place it in the window, his new friend following him about spanielwise; "but you had better let me say plainly that it is for sale." "Oh I don't care mais my rillation' will never forgive me! Mais go-ahead-I-don't-care! 'T is for sale." "'Sieur Frowenfel'," he resumed, as they came away from the window, "one week ago" he held up one finger "what I was doing?
His name, when it was presently heard, accounted for the blond type by revealing a Franco-Celtic origin. "'Sieur Frowenfel'," he said, advancing like a boy coming in after recess, "I 'ave somet'ing beauteeful to place into yo' window." He wheeled half around as he spoke and seized from a naked black boy, who at that instant entered, a rectangular object enveloped in paper.
Then Aurora first quietly took possession of her hands, and after another tender pause asked in English, which was equivalent to whispering: "Were you was, chérie?" "'Sieur Frowenfel' "
He blushed with the fear that his talk was bookish, and felt grateful to Clotilde for seeming to understand his speech. "W'ad you fin' de rizzon is, 'Sieur Frowenfel'?" she asked. "I do not wish to philosophize," he answered. "Mais, go hon." "Mais, go ahade," said both ladies, settling themselves.
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