“Oh, madame!” exclaimed Leonore.
“You are joking” cried Mrs. D’Alloi.
“That’s delicious,” laughed Watts.
“Whew,” said Le Grand, under his breath.
“Ah! Why do you cry out? Mr. Stirling, am I not right?” Madame appealed to the one face on which no amusement or skepticism was shown.
“I think it is rather dangerous to ascribe any particular trait to any nationality. It is usually misleading. But most men who think much, talk little, and the French have many thinkers”
“I always liked Von Moltke, just for it being said of him that he could be silent in seven languages,” said Le Grand.
“Yes,” said Leonore. “It’s so restful. We crossed on the steamer with a French Marquis who can speak six languages, and can’t say one thing worth listening to in any.”
Peter thought the soup all Jenifer had cracked it up to be.
“Peter,” said Leonore, turning to him, “Mr. Le Grand said that you never will talk politics with anybody. That doesn’t include me, of course?”