“What, for instance?”
“Nogent Saint Lorraine, for instance! A regular brigand’s name!”
Fomishka asked incidentally who reigned in Paris now, and when told that it was Napoleon, was surprised and pained at the information.
“How?... Such an old man—” he began and stopped, looking round in confusion.
Fomishka had but a poor knowledge of French, and read Voltaire in translation; he always kept a translated manuscript of Candide in the bible box at the head of his bed. He used to come out with expressions like: “This, my dear, is fausse parquet,” meaning suspicious, untrue. He was very much laughed at for this, until a certain learned Frenchman told him that it was an old parliamentary expression employed in his country until the year 1789.
As the conversation turned upon France and the French, Fimishka resolved to ask something that had been very much on her mind. She first thought of addressing herself to Markelov, but he looked too forbidding, so she turned to Solomin, but no! He seemed to her such a plain sort of person, not likely to know French at all, so she turned to Nejdanov.
“I should like to ask you something, if I may,” she began; “excuse me, my kinsman Sila Samsonitch makes fun of me and my woman’s ignorance.”
“What is it?”
“Supposing one wants to ask in French, ‘What is it?’ must one say ‘Kese-kese-kese-la?’”
“Yes.”