"You ought to have heard father try to talk French," he said. "It was
enough to kill one with laughing. He bought a little book and would
study some phrase, and then fire it off at the waiters, screaming at the
top of his voice, as if that would make them understand better; and once
it was too funny. We were in a shop in Lucerne, and father wanted to
know the price of something, so he held it up before a little dapper man
with blue eyes and yellow hair, and said, 'Com-bi-on'--that's the way he
pronounced it--'com-bi-on;' but the man didn't com-bi-on worth a cent,
and only stared at him as if he thought him a lunatic. Then father tried
again, and yelled as loud as he could, '_Pree--pree!_ how much-ee,
much-ee?' Then there was a glimmer of a smile on the man's face, and
when father, wholly out of patience, roared out, 'Damnation, are you a
fool?' he replied, 'No, but I'm a Yankee like yourself, and the price of
the carving is twenty-five francs;' and, sure enough, he was a chap from
Maine. After that father always asked them first if they
_parlez-vous-ed_ English. Mother got on better, because she knew more of
the language, and always gave a twist to the words which made them sound
Frenchy; but she was afraid to talk much, for fear she'd make a mistake
and Miss Grundy would laugh at her. She is awfully afraid of Miss
Grundy, especially if the _genus homo_ happens to be English. But I did
not care. I wanted to learn, and I studied in the railway car, and at
the table, and in bed, and had a teacher when we staid long enough in a
place, and then I plunged in, mistake or no mistake, and talked to
everybody. I used to sit on the box with the driver when we drove, so as
to talk to him, and you have no idea what a lot you pick up that way, or
how glad they are to help you; and now, though I do not suppose I always
use good grammar or get the right accent, I can _parlez_ with the best
of them, and can speak German, too, a little. I think I have improved
some; don't you, auntie."