His French tongue ran, now with words in the patois of Normandy, now of Brittany; and all with the accent of French Canada, an accent undisturbed by the changes and growths of France.

He gossiped, but no word escaped him which threw any light on his master's history.
Soon, in the Latin Quarter, they were as notable as they had been at Ridley Court or in London.

On the Champs Elysee side people stared at the two: chiefly because of Gaston's splendid mount and Jacques's strange broncho.

But they felt that they were at home.

Gaston's French was not perfect, but it was enough for his needs.