Int. Might I dare to ascribe such traditional views to the prejudice of ignorance? Your Press, I believe, does not educate itself by foreign travel.
D. F. I cannot speak for others, but personally, if I do not offend the laws of courtesy by saying this in the city whose hospitality I now enjoy, I detest your race. I regard you as insular.
Int. We cannot, of course, help being born on an island. But we correct this defect by constant visits to the mainland, and from these we have learnt a profound respect for the tastes of our neighbours.
D. F. I am greatly gratified by this. Nothing has impressed me so favourably here as your cordial appreciation of our people. I met a distinguished British novelist who was actually acquainted with the literature of my own Provence!
Int. May I ask what other features of our comparatively inaccessible island have attracted your notice?
D. F. Above all things else, the sinister silence of your city. On the Stock Exchange, down Cheapside, among vendors of journals, you can hear a pin drop. Everywhere the taciturnity of the tomb.
Int. And what of our institutions and types?
D. F. Nothing has impressed me so deeply as the Great Wheel at Earl's Court. It is a monument of national ardour and aspiration. This, and Mr. Stanley, and your guardsmen, and your way of cooking meat, have left the most indelible impression upon my sentiment and constitution. I dislike the last two of them.
Int. In cooking, we freely yield you the saucepan. But how has our military given you offence?
D. F. I object to the size of its chest, and its manner of occupying the pavement. I have seen a guardsman in Whitehall against whom, in the heyday of my youth, I should indubitably have projected my person.