Raoul shall illustrate it.

Honore shall give you money to publish it.

Ah! Professor Frowenfeld, the star of your fame is rising out of the waves of oblivion! Come--I dropped in purposely to ask you--come across the street and take a glass of _taffia_ with Agricola Fusilier." This crowning honor the apothecary was insane enough to decline, and Agricola went away with many professions of endearment, but secretly offended because Joseph had not asked about his wound.
All the same the apothecary, without loss of time, departed for the yellow-washed cottage, Number 19 rue Bienville.
"To-morrow, at four P.M.," he said to himself, "if the weather is favorable, I ride with M.Grandissime." He almost saw his books and instruments look up at him reproachfully.
The ladies were at home.

Aurora herself opened the door, and Clotilde came forward from the bright fireplace with a cordiality never before so unqualified.

There was something about these ladies--in their simple, but noble grace, in their half-Gallic, half-classic beauty, in a jocund buoyancy mated to an amiable dignity--that made them appear to the scholar as though they had just bounded into life from the garlanded procession of some old fresco.