brought a lamp. He was celebrated as a traveller, and occupied the chair
of comparative physiology in the University of Milan. He belonged to
the modern type of scientific man, which has replaced the one of fifty
years ago, who lived in a dressing-gown and slippers, smoked a long
pipe, and was always losing his belongings through absence of mind. 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."