"What is it?"

"You must abandon, and, if I may say so, forget, the particle 'non',
which you use frequently at random. 'Non' is not a French word; instead
of that unpleasant monosyllable, say, 'Pardon'. 'Non' is equal to giving
the lie: never say it, or prepare yourself to give and to receive
sword-stabs every moment."

"I thank you, monsieur, your present is very precious, and I promise you
never to say non again."

During the first fortnight of my stay in Paris, it seemed to me that I
had become the most faulty man alive, for I never ceased begging pardon.
I even thought, one evening at the theatre, that I should have a quarrel
for having begged somebody's pardon in the wrong place. A young fop,
coming to the pit, trod on my foot, and I hastened to say,

"Your pardon, sir."

"Sir, pardon me yourself."

"No, yourself."

"Yourself!"

"Well, sir, let us pardon and embrace one another!" The embrace put a
stop to the discussion.

One day during the journey, having fallen asleep from fatigue in the
inconvenient gondola, someone pushed my arm.