I made him give me during the journey lessons in French politeness, and when we parted he took me apart in a friendly manner, saying that he wished to make me a small present.
"What is it ?" "You must abandon, and, if I may say so, forget, the particle 'non', which you use frequently at random.

'Non' is not a French word; instead of that unpleasant monosyllable, say, 'Pardon'.

'Non' is equal to giving the lie: never say it, or prepare yourself to give and to receive sword-stabs every moment." "I thank you, monsieur, your present is very precious, and I promise you never to say non again." During the first fortnight of my stay in Paris, it seemed to me that I had become the most faulty man alive, for I never ceased begging pardon.
I even thought, one evening at the theatre, that I should have a quarrel for having begged somebody's pardon in the wrong place.

A young fop, coming to the pit, trod on my foot, and I hastened to say, "Your pardon, sir." "Sir, pardon me yourself." "No, yourself." "Yourself!" "Well, sir, let us pardon and embrace one another!" The embrace put a stop to the discussion.
One day during the journey, having fallen asleep from fatigue in the inconvenient gondola, someone pushed my arm.
"Ah, sir! look at that mansion!" "I see it; what of it ?" "Ah! I pray you, do you not find it...." "I find nothing particular; and you ?" "Nothing wonderful, if it were not situated at a distance of forty leagues from Paris.

But here! Ah! would my 'badauds' of Parisians believe that such a beautiful mansion can be found forty leagues distant from the metropolis?
How ignorant a man is when he has never travelled!" "You are quite right." That man was a Parisian and a 'badaud' to the backbone, like a Gaul in the days of Caesar.
But if the Parisians are lounging about from morning till night, enjoying everything around them, a foreigner like myself ought to have been a greater 'badaud' than they! The difference between us was that, being accustomed to see things such as they are, I was astonished at seeing them often covered with a mask which changed their nature, while their surprise often arose from their suspecting what the mask concealed.
What delighted me, on my arrival in Paris, was the magnificent road made by Louis XV., the cleanliness of the hotels, the excellent fare they give, the quickness of the service, the excellent beds, the modest appearance of the attendant, who generally is the most accomplished girl of the house, and whose decency, modest manners, and neatness, inspire the most shameless libertine with respect.