‘No.’
‘Nor Italian?’
‘No.’
‘Spanish?’
‘No.’
‘Ah, mon Dieu! you travel and speak noting!’ and with a pitying grimace and shrug of the shoulders he looked round at the other passengers. Presently our artist took his revenge. As they were passing a town with a ruined castle on a hill he said, with much fervour, addressing the Frenchman,—
‘How beautifully that old tower is relieved by the dark foliage! What a splendid contrast is the cold grey of the hill behind! How harmoniously the distance is blended with the middle distance, and the middle distance with the foreground, by means of the bridge across the river!’ The Frenchman stared, stammered, and confessed he did not comprehend.
‘What!’ said our artist; ‘you travel and do not understand English!’
‘Ver leetle.’
‘Do you speak Scotch?’