The new-comers were much finer rigged out than the others, for they belonged to the gay, turbulent class which goes frequently to the Chaumiere, the Prado, the Colisee, and other more or less rowdyish haunts of waltzers, made up generally of students, shop-girls, and counter skippers, clerks, unfortunates, etc., etc.

This set, while retorting to the chaff of the other party, seemed to be very impatiently expecting some singularly desired person to put in her appearance.

The following snatches of conversation, passing between clowns and columbines, pantaloons and fairies, Turks and sultans, debardeurs and debardeuses, paired off more or less properly, will give an idea of the importance of the wished-for personage.

“They ordered the spread to be for seven in the morning, so their carriages ought to have come up afore now.”

“Werry like, but the Bacchanal Queen has got to lead off the last dance in the Prado.”

“I wish to thunder I’d ’a known that, and I’d ’a stayed there to see her—­my beloved Queen!”

“Gobinet; if you call her your beloved Queen again, I’ll scratch you!  Here’s a pinch for you, anyhow!”

“Ow, wow, Celeste! hands off!  You are black-spotting the be-yutiful white satin jacket my mamma gave me when I first came out as Don Pasqually!”

“Why did you call the Bacchanal Queen your beloved, then?  What am I, I’d like to know?”

“You are my beloved, but not my Queen, for there is only one moon in the nights of nature, and only one Bacchanal Queen in the nights at the Prado.”

“That’s a bit from a valentine!  You can’t come over me with such rubbish.”

“Gobinet’s right! the Queen was an out-and-outer tonight!”

“In prime feather!”

“I never saw her more on the go!”

“And, my eyes! wasn’t her dress stunning?”

“Took your breath away!”

“Crushing!”

“Heavy!”

“Im-mense!”

“The last kick!”

“No one but she can get up such dresses.”

“And, then, the dance!”

“Oh, yes! it was at once bounding waving, twisting!  There is not such another bayadere under the night-cap of the sky!”

“Gobinet, give me back my shawl directly.  You have already spoilt it by rolling it round your great body.  I don’t choose to have my things ruined for hulking beasts who call other women bayaderes!”

“Celeste, simmer down.  I am disguised as a Turk, and, when I talk of bayaderes, I am only in character.”

“Your Celeste is like them all, Gobinet; she’s jealous of the Bacchanal Queen.”

“Jealous!—­do you think me jealous?  Well now! that’s too bad.  If I chose to be as showy as she is they would talk of me as much.  After all, it’s only a nickname that makes her reputation! nickname!”

“In that you have nothing to envy her—­since you are called Celeste!”