The old man began to swell with complacency.
"H-why, really--"
"He, Citizen, is truly of your kind--"
"He must be delivered, Professor Frowenfeld--"
"He is a native Louisianian, not only by accident of birth but by sentiment and intention," said Frowenfeld.
The old man smiled a benign delight, but the apothecary now had the upper hand, and would not hear him speak.
"His aspirations," continued the speaker, "his indignations--mount with his people's. His pulse beats with yours, sir. He is a part of your circle. He is one of your caste."
Agricola could not be silent.
"Ha-a-a-ah! Joseph, h-h-you make my blood tingle! Speak to the point; who--"
"I believe him, moreover, Citizen Fusilier, innocent of the charge laid--"