“Nay; 'tis they who lack manners. They stop a fellow's mouth at every word.”
“At every other word, you mean; every obscene or blasphemous one.”
“Exaggerator, go to! Why, at the very last of these dungeons I found the poor travellers sitting all chilled and mute round one shaveling, like rogues awaiting their turn to be hanged; so to cheer them up, I did but cry out, 'Courage, tout le monde, le dia—
“Connu! what befell?”
“Marry, this. 'Blaspheme not!' quo' the bourreau. 'Plait-il,' say I. Doesn't he wheel and wyte on me in a sort of Alsatian French, turning all the P's into B's. I had much ado not to laugh in his face.”
“Being thyself unable to speak ten words of his language without a fault.”
“Well, all the world ought to speak French. What avail so many jargons except to put a frontier atwixt men's hearts?”
“But what said he?”
“What signifies it what a fool says?”
“Oh, not all the words of a fool are folly, or I should not listen to you.”