“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!”

“You know well enough, Gobinet, that Celeste is my real name.”

“Yes; but it’s fancied a nickname—­when one looks in your face.”

“Gobinet, I will put that down to your account.”

“And Oscar will help you to add it up, eh?”

“Yes; and you shall see the total.  When I carry one, the remainder will not be you.”

“Celeste, you make me cry!  I only meant to say that your celestial name does not go well with your charming little face, which is still more mischievous than that of the Bacchanal Queen.”

“That’s right; wheedle me now, wretch!”

“I swear by the accursed head of my landlord, that, if you liked, you could spread yourself as much as the Bacchanal Queen—­which is saying a great deal.”

“The fact is, that the Bacchanal had cheek enough, in all conscience.”

“Not to speak of her fascinating the bobbies!”

“And magnetizing the beaks.”

“They may get as angry as they please; she always finishes by making them laugh.”

“And they all call her:  Queen!”

“Last night she charmed a slop (as modest as a country girl) whose purity took up arms against the famous dance of the Storm-blown Tulip.”

“What a quadrille!  Sleepinbuff and the Bacchanal Queen, having opposite to them Rose-Pompon and Ninny Moulin!”

“And all four making tulips as full-blown as could be!”

“By-the-bye, is it true what they say of Ninny Moulin?”

“What?”

“Why that he is a writer, and scribbles pamphlets on religion.”

“Yes, it is true.  I have often seen him at my employer’s, with whom he deals; a bad paymaster, but a jolly fellow!”

“And pretends to be devout, eh?”