This tongue is the language of our toils and labours; she comes to us at our birth, she lingers at our tomb.
"No, no--I cannot desert my mother-tongue!" said Jasmin.

"It preserves the folk-lore of the district; it is the language of the poor, of the labourer, the shepherd, the farmer and grape-gatherers, of boys and girls, of brides and bridegrooms.

The people," he said to M.Dumon, "love to hear my songs in their native dialect.

You have enough poetry in classical French; leave me to please my compatriots in the dialect which they love.

I cannot give up this harmonious language, our second mother, even though it has been condemned for three hundred years.