I'm all right, thank you." "Ah! but yes," he retorted--"you cannote deceives me.

You are pallide; you take walks on feet this detestable day .-- Mon Dieu! votre climat c'est affreux!--I knows ver wells, Meestaire Lorton, dat somesings ees ze mattaire!" "But, I'm quite well, I tell you," said I.
"Quaite well en physique, bon:--quaite well, here ?" tapping his chest expressively the while--"non! I knows vat ees ze mattaire.

C'est une affaire de coeur, ees it not, mon ami?
You cannote deceives me, I tells to you! But, nevaire mind dat, my youngish friends: cheer oop and be gays--toujours gai! I have had, myselfs, it ees one, two, tree,--seex lofes! Seex times ees mon coeur brise, and I was desole; and now, you sees, I'm of a light heart still!"-- and he laughed so cheerily, that, even Lady Dasher, I think, could not have well helped chiming in with his merriment.
I did not laugh, however.

"Pardon me, monsieur," I said,--"I'm not in a joking mood." "Come, come, mon brave," he continued, seeing that my dejection was beyond the point where it could be laughed away; and accommodating himself to my humour, with the native delicacy of his race--"I have myself, suffered:--ainsi, I can condoles! You know, my dear, youngish friends, when I was deporte de mon pays, he ?" I nodded my head in acquiescence, hardly feeling inclined for the recital of some revolutionary anecdote, which I thought was going to be related to me.

Monsieur Parole, however, astonished me with quite a different narration.
"Leesten," said he.--"When I did leeves my Paris beloved, helas! I was tored from my lofe--my fiancee dat I adore! I leaves her in hopes and au desespoir.