Sitting on couches in front of one another, Verlaine was teaching you some basic sentences of French.

It took a lot of begging on your end to have him teach you his native language, but it eventually all worked out.

Verlaine was a decent teacher. He rarely got frustrated, but it was apparent on his stoic features when you mispronounced something.

“For the next sentence, I want you to say ‘je t’aime.’ Can you do that for me?”

He crossed his legs and folded his hands onto his lap.