er?

'N'est-ce pas que c'est bon d'etre ensemble?' pleads the young man.

'Je n'ai pas dit que ce ne fut pas bon,' replies the young lady in good
epigrammatic style; 'j'ai dit que ce n'etait pas bien.'

To the Anglo-Saxon people who have not familiarized themselves with
French customs and modes of thought, it seems simply inconceivable that
a girl who intends to entrust to a particular man the happiness of her
life should think there could be danger, indiscretion, impropriety of
any, even the slightest kind, in talking to him for a few moments
without the presence of witnesses.

* * * * *

I have always pitied the English-speaking people for using the second
person singular only when addressing the Almighty.

I am not speaking of poetry, of course, but of everyday conversational
prose. This second person singular seems to me indispensable for the
due expression of love. Where is the Frenchwoman who does not remember
with a thrill of pleasure the never-to-be-forgotten moment when her
lover, after many times saying to her 'Je vous aime,' got emboldened
enough, by her return of his deep affection, to change that 'Je vous
aime' into 'Je t'aime'?

She knows that this change of person sealed her fate, that from the
very moment that second person singular was used she became his. 'Je
vous aime' will, of course, always appeal to the woman who loves the
man who utters these words; but when 'Je t'aime' is whispered into her
ears, she will close her eyes in ecstasy and be transported to heaven
as if for eternal bliss.

This use of the second person singular in love affairs is not the only
superiority that the French have over the Anglo-Saxons in the
expression of the tender feelings. In England, and I believe also in
America, a woman is kissed on the lips by her father, mother, brothers
and lady and girl friends. Of course her lover will do the same, with
more ardour, more expression, more 'impressions;' but in France this is
very seldom the case. Girls are kissed on the forehead by their father,
and on the cheeks by all their other relatives and friends. Even a tiny
little girl, on being asked for a kiss, will offer her cheeks, never
her mouth. The lips are entirely reserved for Cupid.

A French philosopher has said that when a woman has surrendered her
lips she has surrendered everything; but he is right only as far as his
countrywomen are concerned. Even after saying 'Je vous a