It seemed to him as if in this little back room his dead good name was lying in state, and these visitors were coming in to take their last look.

From time to time he longed for more light, wondering why the gravity of his misadventure should seem so great.
"H-m-h-y dear Professor!" began the old man.

Pages of print could not comprise all the meanings of his smile and accent; benevolence, affection, assumed knowledge of the facts, disdain of results, remembrance of his own youth, charity for pranks, patronage--these were but a few.

He spoke very slowly and deeply and with this smile of a hundred meanings.

"Why did you not send for me, Joseph?
Sir, whenever you have occasion to make a list of the friends who will stand by you, _right or wrong_--h-write the name of Citizen Agricola Fusilier at the top! Write it large and repeat it at the bottom! You understand me, Joseph ?--and, mark me,--right or wrong!" "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.