stout, in pink satin, with quite bare neck and arms; the Vicomte said
that the lions had to be surfeited with food beforehand, to keep them
from taking their dessert off this tempting morsel. She began to sing
through her nose about "_l'amour_," &c., and those lions did look so
bored; the eldest one simply groaned with _ennui_. His face said as
plainly as if he could speak, "At it again to-night!" and "Oh! que cela
m'embête." When the song was finished, the _Belle Chanteuse_ stretched
herself on two chairs, making herself into a sort of bridge for the
animals to jump over. From our position we could only see mountains of
pink satin _embonpoint_, and the soles of her feet. The lions had the
greatest difficulty in jumping not to kick her. What a life, Mamma!
Then Pezon put his head right into the old lion's mouth, and so ended
the performance.

[Sidenote: _Inspecting the Machinery_]

When we got outside, a man was ringing a bell opposite, to invite every
one in to see a woman with only a head; she could speak, he said, but had
no body. The Baronne insisted upon going in. It was a tiny cell of a
place and crammed full. Presently a head appeared on a pedestal and spoke
in a subdued voice. All the others said it was a fraud, but I thought it
wonderful. "Antoine" wanted to go beyond the barrier and touch it, which
was mean of him, I think. Presently a villainous-looking old hag, who was
exhibiting the creature, came over, and whispered in "Antoine's" ear. I
only caught "_cinq francs_," but his face looked interested at once, and
he and Jean disappeared behind the curtain and the head disappeared too,
so we went outside, and bought "farings" at the next booth. There they
joined us. "Alors, mes amis?" demanded every one. "Pas la peine, très mal
faite," said "Antoine"; so I suppose it was the machinery they had been
examining. The next thing we came to was a sort of swing with flying