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In Troubadour-Land - A Ramble in Provence and Languedoc by S. (Sabine) Baring-Gould
page 18 of 280 (06%)

"I shall be charmed," I said, and extended twenty centimes across the
table.

"Ach Tausend! Dass ist herrlich!" and he drew off the last drops of Pomino.
"Now I will tell you vun ding. Hev you been in Provence?"

"Provence! Why--I am on my way there, now."

"Den listen to me. Ebery peoples hev different ways of doing de same ding.
You go into a cabaret dere, and you ask for wine. De patron brings you a
bottle, and at de same time looks at de clock and wid a bit of chalk he
mark you down your time. You say you will drink at two pence, or dree
pence, or four pence. You drink at dat price you have covenanted for one
hour, you drink at same price anodder hour, and you sleep--but you pay all
de same, wedder you drink or wedder you sleep, two pence, or dree pence, or
four pence de hour. It is an old custom. You understand? It is de custom of
de country--of La belle Provence."

"I quite understand that it is to the interest of the taverner to make his
customers drunk."

"Drunk!" repeated my Mosaic acquaintance. "I will tell you one ding
more, ver' characteristic of de nationalities. A Frenchman--_il boit_;
a German--_er sauft_; and an Englishman--he gets fresh. Der you hev de
natures of de dree peoples as in a picture. De Frenchman, he looks to de
moment, and not beyond. _Il boit_. De German, he looks to de end. _Er
sauft_. De Englishman, he sits down fresh and intends to get fuddled; but
he is a hypocrite. He does not say de truth to hisself nor to nobody, he
says, _I will get fresh_, when he means de odder ding. Big humbug. You
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