He was an incomparable companion, perfectly amiable, yet vivid, and eager as a child, always interested and interesting.

We awoke at Avignon and went out in pyjamas and overcoats to stretch our legs and get a bowl of coffee on the platform in the pearly grey light of early morning.
After coffee and cigarettes he led the way to the other end of the platform, that we might catch a glimpse of the town wall which, though terribly restored, yet, when seen from a distance, transports one back five hundred years to the age of chivalry.
"How I should have loved to be a troubadour, or a _trouvere_, Frank; that was my true _metier_, to travel from castle to castle singing love songs and telling romantic stories to while away the tedium of the lives of the great.

Fancy the reception they would have given me for bringing a new joy into their castled isolation, new ideas, new passions--a breath of gossip and scandal from the outside world to relieve the intolerable boredom of the middle ages.

I should have been kept at the Court of Aix: I think they would have bound me with flower-chains, and my fame would have spread all through the sunny vineyards and grey olive-clad hills of Provence." When we got into the train again he began: "We stop next at Marseilles, don't we, Frank?
A great historic town for nearly three thousand years.

One really feels a barbarian in comparison, and yet all I know of Marseilles is that it is famous for _bouillabaisse_.