United States or Montserrat ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
"No matter," said the apothecary, turning half-way and pouring the tonic into a vial. "Sir," thundered the old lion, "h-I demand of you to answer! How dare you insinuate that my kinsmen may deal otherwise than justly?" "Will they treat her exactly as if she were white, and had threatened the life of a slave?" asked Frowenfeld from behind the desk at the end of the counter.
Frowenfeld tried again to begin. "Mr. Fusilier " "Citizen Fusilier!" "Citizen, candor demands that I undeceive " "Candor demands h-my dear Professor, let me tell you exactly what she demands. She demands that in here within this apartment we understand each other. That demand is met." "But " Frowenfeld frowned impatiently. "That demand, Joseph, is fully met!
Whenever the public mind approached that sad state of public sentiment in which sanctity signs politicians' memorials and chivalry breaks into the gun-shops, a good place to feel the thump of the machinery was in Maspero's. The first man Frowenfeld saw as he entered was M. Valentine Grandissime.
Mr. Frowenfeld, I propose to become the strife-maker; how then, can I be a peacemaker at the same time? There is my diffycultie." "Mr. Grandissime," exclaimed Frowenfeld, "if you have any design in view founded on the high principles which I know to be the foundations of all your feelings, and can make use of the aid of a disgraced man, use me."
The patience with which Frowenfeld was bearing all this forced a chuckle and shake of the head from the marchande. Citizen Fusilier went on speaking in a manner that might be construed either as address or soliloquy, gesticulating much and occasionally letting out a fervent word that made passers look around and Joseph inwardly wince.
Frowenfeld was silent: but the invalid was waiting for an answer, and, not getting it, stirred peevishly. "Do you wish me to go to-night?" asked the apothecary. "To-morrow morning. Will you ?" "Certainly, Doctor." The invalid lay quite still for several minutes, looking steadily at his friend, and finally let a faint smile play about his mouth, a wan reminder of his habitual roguery.
What has Frowenfeld done? And Palmyre, and Agricole? They hustled me away from here as if I had been caught trying to cut my throat. Tell me everything." And Raoul sank the artist and bridegroom in the historian, and told him. "My cousin Honoré, well, you kin jus' say 'e bitray' 'is 'ole fam'ly." "How so?" asked Doctor Keene, with a handkerchief over his face to shield his eyes from the sun.
It is somewhat important to me, Mr. Frowenfeld, that that lady should not know my present action. If you want to do those two ladies a favor, you may rest assured the way to do it is to say you do not know who put this gold." The Creole in his earnestness slipped in his idiom. "You will excuse me if I do not tell you my name; you can find it out at any time from Agricola. Ah!
Frowenfeld knew by the tone, before he looked behind him, that he would find M. Agricola Fusilier very red in the face; and when he looked, the only qualification he could make was that the citizen's countenance was not so ruddy as the red handkerchief in which his arm was hanging.
"What large gentlemen was that sitting on the other side?" asked the young man, as his companion sat down with the air of having finished an oration. "No gentleman at all!" thundered the citizen. "The great lawyer?" "The great villain!" Frowenfeld himself frowned. The old man laid a hand upon his junior's shoulder and growled benignantly: "My young friend, your displeasure delights me!"
Word Of The Day