She put a hundred questions, one after another, and the traveler answered always pertinently. The report was soon spread that there was a Huron at the priory. All the genteel company of the country came to supper. The abbot of St. Yves came with Miss, his sister, a fine, handsome, well-educated girl. The bailiff, the tax-gatherer, and their wives, came all together. The foreigner was seated between Miss Kerkabon and Miss St. Yves. The company eyed him with admiration. They all questioned him together. This did not confound the Huron. He seemed to have taken Lord Bolingbroke's motto, _Nil admirari_. But at last, tired out with so much noise, he told them in a sweet, but serious tone: "Gentlemen, in my country one talks after another. How can I answer you, if you will not allow me to hear you?" Reasoning always brings people to a momentary reflection. They were all silent. Mr. Bailiff, who always made a property of a foreigner wherever he found him, and who was the first man for asking questions in the province, opening a mouth of large size, began: "Sir, what is your name?" "I have always been called the _Ingenu_," answered the Huron; "and the English have confirmed that name, because I always speak as I think, and act as I like." "But, being born a Huron, how could you come to England?" "I have been carried thither. I was made prisoner by the English after some resistance, and the English, who love brave people, because they are as brave and honest as we, proposed to me, either to return to my family, or go with them to England. I accepted the latter, having naturally a relish for traveling." "But, sir," says the bailiff, with his usual gravity, "how could you think of abandoning father and mother?" "Because I never knew either father or mother," says the foreigner. This moved the company; they all repeated: "Neither father nor mother!" "We will be in their stead," says the mistress of the house, to her brother, the prior: "How interesting this Huron gentleman is!" The _Ingenu_ thanked her with a noble and proud cordiality, and gave her to understand, that he wanted the assistance of nobody. "I perceive, Mr. Huron," said the huge bailiff, "that you talk better French than can be expected from an Indian." "A Frenchman," answered he, "whom they had made prisoner when I was a boy, and with whom I contracted a great friendship, taught it me. I rapidly learn what I like to learn. When I came to Plymouth, I met with one of your French refugees, whom you, I know not why, call Huguenots. He improved my knowledge of your language; and as soon as I could express myself intelligibly, I came to see your country, because I like the French well enough, if they do not put too many questions." Notwithstanding this candid remark, the abbé of St. Yves asked him, which of the three languages pleased him best, the Huron, English, or French? "The Huron, to be sure," answered the _Ingenu_.