The couplets ended amidst great applause. Marmaduke placed his glass on
his knees, and, clapping his hands vigorously, turned to his companion
with a triumphant smile, mutely inviting him to clamor for a repetition
of the air. But Conolly sat motionless, with his arms folded, his cheek
flushed, and his brow lowered.

"You dont seem used to this sort of thing," said Lind, somewhat
disgusted.

"It was well sung," replied Conolly "--better than most of these
blackguards know."

"Then why dont you clap?"

"Because she is not giving herself any trouble. That sort of thing,
from a woman of her talent, is too cheap to say 'thank you' for."

Marmaduke looked at him, and began to think that he was a priggish
fellow after all. But as the burlesque went on, Mademoiselle Lalage
charmed away this disagreeable impression. She warbled in an amorous
duet, and then sang the pleasures of champagne; tossing her head; waving
a gilt goblet; and, without the least appearance of effort, working hard
to captivate those who were to be won by bold smiles and arch glances.
She displayed her person less freely than her colleagues, being, not
more modest, but more skilful in the art of seduction. The slang that
served for dialogue in her part was delivered in all sorts of
intonations, now demure and mischievous, anon strident and mock tragic.
Marmaduke was delighted.