"You are a very sphinx of a fellow.

You deny being English, yet you have all the silence of that nation.

I am hungry, Monsieur, for the sweet sound of the French tongue." "'T is a language of which I know little," I answered, striving to speak pleasantly, although his manner was becoming less and less to my liking.

"I have met with your _coureurs de bois_ in plenty, and picked up sufficient of their common phrases to enable me to converse on ordinary themes with them; yet I confess I find it difficult to follow your speech." "_Canaille_," he returned, in tone of undisguised contempt, "Canadian half-breeds, the very offscourings of our people.

_Sacre_! but you should know us at home, Monsieur,--we are the conquerors of the world!" I wish I could picture to you how he said this.