“Not wrong,” said Frowenfeld, “at least not in defence of wrong; I could not do that; but, I assure you, in this matter I have done—­”

“No worse than any one else would have done under the circumstances, my dear boy!—­Nay, nay, do not interrupt me; I understand you, I understand you.  H-do you imagine there is anything strange to me in this—­at my age?”

“But I am—­”

“—­all right, sir! that is what you are.  And you are under the wing of Agricola Fusilier, the old eagle; that is where you are.  And you are one of my brood; that is who you are.  Professor, listen to your old father. The—­man—­makes—­the—­crime! The wisdom of mankind never brought forth a maxim of more gigantic beauty.  If the different grades of race and society did not have corresponding moral and civil liberties, varying in degree as they vary—­h-why! this community, at least, would go to pieces!  See here!  Professor Frowenfeld is charged with misdemeanor.  Very well, who is he?  Foreigner or native?  Foreigner by sentiment and intention, or only by accident of birth?  Of our mental fibre—­our aspirations—­our delights—­our indignations?  I answer for you, Joseph, yes!—­yes!  What then?  H-why, then the decision!  Reached how?  By apologetic reasonings?  By instinct, sir! h-h-that guide of the nobly proud!  And what is the decision?  Not guilty.  Professor Frowenfeld, absolvo te!”

It was in vain that the apothecary repeatedly tried to interrupt this speech.  “Citizen Fusilier, do you know me no better?”—­“Citizen Fusilier, if you will but listen!”—­such were the fragments of his efforts to explain.  The old man was not so confident as he pretended to be that Frowenfeld was that complete proselyte which alone satisfies a Creole; but he saw him in a predicament and cast to him this life-buoy, which if a man should refuse, he would deserve to drown.

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!  I understand the whole matter like an eye-witness!  Now there is another demand to be met, the demand of friendship!  In here, candor; outside, friendship; in here, one of our brethren has been adventurous and unfortunate; outside”—­the old man smiled a smile of benevolent mendacity—­“outside, nothing has happened.”

Frowenfeld insisted savagely on speaking; but Agricola raised his voice, and gray hairs prevailed.