The modern professor is very like other human beings in dress and appearance, and has even been known to pride himself on the fit of his coat, just like the common people.
There were mutual greetings, for the Professor knew all the party, and everybody liked him.

He was a big man, with a well-kept brown beard, a very clear complexion, and bright brown eyes that looked as if they would never need spectacles.
"And where have you been since we last saw you ?" asked Corbario.
"Are your pockets full of snakes this time ?" asked Aurora.
The Professor looked at her and smiled, realising that she was no longer the child she had been when he had seen her last, and that she was very good to look at.

His brown eyes beamed upon her benevolently.
"Ah, my dear young lady, I see it is all over," he said.

"You will never pull my beard again and turn my pockets inside out for specimens when I come back from my walks on the beach." "Do you think I am afraid of you or your specimens ?" laughed Aurora.
"I have got a terrible thing in my waistcoat pocket," the Professor answered.

"Something you might very well be afraid of." "What is it?
It must be very small to be in your waistcoat pocket." "It is a new form of death." He beamed on everybody with increasing benevolence; but somehow nobody smiled, and the Signora Corbario shivered and drew her light cloak more closely round her, as the first gust of the night breeze came up from the rustling reeds that grew in the pool below.
"It is time to get ready for supper," said Folco.