He looked English, but spoke a language the like of which I have never heard before.

Yet it was an elegant and fine-sounding language.

The landlord stared at him blankly; the landlady shook her head.

He sighed, and tried another, which somehow recalled to me forgotten memories, though, at the time, I could not fix it.

But again nobody understood him.
"This is damnable," he said aloud to himself.
"Ah, you are English!" exclaimed the landlord, brightening up.
"And Monsieur looks tired," added the bright little landlady.