"Don't bow to me. You would not bow to a baker, would you, Monsieur? We are all equals now." He said, with a fair bit of amusement, although his tone was not cruel. "You would not bow to a baker, or a fisherman, or an accountant would you?"
"I heard. My son is much more... in tune with some aspects of the Revolution than I am not." He smiles slightly, "Sometimes I believe I am merely here because I am the only Frenchman the English can vaguely tolerate." He took another drag of the cigarette, and then flicked the ashes away onto the steps. "Is there anything further you would ask of us, in order to help you in your search?"