. Fragments of an autobiography . CHAPTER VICLAUDE RAOUL DUPONT well t^enrenrbet^ the first words of French that I mastered, and thesensation I created when I, a verysmall boy, irrepressibly burst forthwith my declaration : 0 Madam, kay voos aite bell! This was addressed across the friendly suppertable to Madame de R., who with her husband, thewell-known portrait-painter, was spending her honey-moon at Boulogne. To Boulogne we too had gone, as people wentthen when they wanted a change of air, or as theygo now to Africa or the antipodes. On this occasion our party consisted of myparents, three
. Fragments of an autobiography . CHAPTER VICLAUDE RAOUL DUPONT well t^enrenrbet^ the first words of French that I mastered, and thesensation I created when I, a verysmall boy, irrepressibly burst forthwith my declaration : 0 Madam, kay voos aite bell! This was addressed across the friendly suppertable to Madame de R., who with her husband, thewell-known portrait-painter, was spending her honey-moon at Boulogne. To Boulogne we too had gone, as people wentthen when they wanted a change of air, or as theygo now to Africa or the antipodes. On this occasion our party consisted of myparents, three sisters, myself, and an English nurse,who, from first to last, was unutterably shocked bywhat she called the outrageous proceedings of theforeigners, and by the fearful language that parrotused, who always gathered a little sympathetic crowdin front of the shell and wooden-spade shop. My sisters had a French governess of the ap-proved type. Maitre Corbeau sur un arbre perche, she recitedto me with conventional emphasis and genuin
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