One moment he played exquisite bits from Mozart on his violin, to the accompaniment of the vicar's violoncello, that were most entrancing; the next, scraped away at some provoking tarantella that almost set the whole of us dancing, in defiance of the proprieties generally observed at the vicarage.
We were asking each other riddles and conundrums.

Monsieur Parole suddenly bethought him of one.

"Ah, ha!" he said, "I heard one good reedel ze ozer day.

A leetle mees at one of my academies told it me.
Young ladies, why is ze old gentlemans, le diable, zat is--" "O-oh! Monsieur Parole!" ejaculated Miss Pimpernell.
"Your pardon, Mees Peemple," said Monsieur Parole--he never could give her the additional syllable to her name--"Your pardon, Mees Peemple; but we wiz call hims somesing else.

Why is--ah, ha! I have got hims.