My-de'-seh, it never occurs to us that in this matter we are interested, and therefore disqualified, witnesses.

We say we are not understood; that the jury (the civilized world) renders its decision without viewing the body; that we are judged from a distance.

We forget that we ourselves are too _close_ to see distinctly, and so continue, a spectacle to civilization, sitting in a horrible darkness, my-de'-seh!" He frowned.
"The shadow of the Ethiopian," said the grave apothecary.
M.Grandissime's quick gesture implied that Frowenfeld had said the very word.
"Ah! my-de'-seh, when I try sometimes to stand outside and look at it, I am _ama-aze_ at the length, the blackness of that shadow!" (He was so deeply in earnest that he took no care of his English.) "It is the _Nemesis_ w'ich, instead of coming afteh, glides along by the side of this morhal, political, commercial, social mistake! It blanches, my-de'-seh, ow whole civilization! It drhags us a centurhy behind the rhes' of the world! It rhetahds and poisons everhy industrhy we got!--mos' of all our-h immense agrhicultu'e! It brheeds a thousan' cusses that nevva leave home but jus' flutter-h up an' rhoost, my-de'-seh, on ow _heads_; an' we nevva know it!--yes, sometimes some of us know it." He changed the subject.
They had repassed the ruins of Fort St.Louis, and were well within the precincts of the little city, when, as they pulled up from a final gallop, mention was made of Doctor Keene.

He was improving; Honore had seen him that morning; so, at another hour, had Frowenfeld.

Doctor Keene had told Honore about Palmyre's wound.
"You was at her house again this morning ?" asked the Creole.
"Yes," said Frowenfeld.
M.Grandissime shook his head warningly.
"'Tis a dangerous business.