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Updated: June 26, 2025
"'Sieur Frowenfel'," said Raoul as that person turned in the front door of the shop after watching Agricola's carriage roll away he had intended to unburden his mind to the apothecary with all his natural impetuosity; but Frowenfeld's gravity as he turned, with the paper in his hand, induced a different manner.
I am afraid to go deeply into anything, lest it should make ruin in my name, my family, my property." He laughed unpleasantly. The question darted into Frowenfeld's mind, whether this might not be a hint of the matter that M. Grandissime had been trying to see him about. "Mr. Grandissime," he said, "I can hardly believe you would neglect a duty either for family, property, or society."
It is not certain that they entered deeper into the great question than a comparison of its attendant Anglo-American and Franco-American conventionalities; but sure it is that somehow let those young souls divine the method who can every unearthly stranger on that veranda contrived to understand Frowenfeld's English.
She seemed to have some explanation to offer, but could not command the necessary English; however, with the aid of Frowenfeld's limited guessing powers, she made him understand that the bearer of the letter to her had brought word from the writer that it was written in English purposely that M. Frowenfeld the only person he was willing should see it might read it.
The doctors were present at Frowenfeld's in more than usual number. There was unusualness, too, in their manner and their talk.
The enthusiasm of an artist overcame any timidity she might have been supposed to possess, and, waiving the formality of an invitation, she began, to Frowenfeld's consternation, to sing, in a loud, nasal voice.
"And have she and her daughter actually got the money?" "She an' heh daughtah ac shilly got-'at-money-sir! W'at? Dey livin' in de rue Royale in mag-niffycen' style on top de drug-sto' of Proffis-or Frowenfel'." "But how, over Frowenfeld's, when Frowenfeld's is a one-story " "My dear frien'! Proffis-or Frowenfel' is moove!
In Frowenfeld's mind an angry determination was taking shape, to be neither trifled with nor contemned. And this again the quadroon discerned, before he was himself aware of it. "Doctor Keene" he began, but stopped, so uncomfortable were her eyes. She did not stir or reply. Then he bethought him with a start, and took off his dripping hat.
Frowenfeld's first response was a stern gaze. When he spoke, he said: "Sir, I am not aware that I have ever offered you the slightest injury or affront; if you wish to finish your conversation with this gentleman, I will wait till you are through." The Creole bowed, as a knight who takes up the gage. He turned to Valentine.
With this look on his face he reëntered his counting-room after his morning visit to Frowenfeld's shop.
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