Heloise Brisetout rose at once to her feet, stood at attention, and
made a military salute, like a soldier who meets his general.

"What?" asked Gaudissart, "are you really _La Belle Ecaillere_ of whom
my father used to talk?"

"In that case the cachucha and the polka were after your time; and
madame has passed her fiftieth year," remarked Heloise, and striking
an attitude, she declaimed, "'Cinna, let us be friends.'"

"Come, Heloise, the lady is not up to this; let her alone."

"Madame is perhaps the New Heloise," suggested La Cibot, with sly
innocence.

"Not bad, old lady!" cried Gaudissart.

"It is a venerable joke," said the dancer, "a grizzled pun; find us
another old lady--or take a cigarette."

"I beg your pardon, madame, I feel too unhappy to answer you; my two
gentlemen are very ill; and to buy nourishment for them and to spare
them trouble, I have pawned everything down to my husband's clothes
that I pledged this morning. Here is the ticket!"

"Oh! here, the affair is becoming tragic," cried the fair Heloise.
"What is it all about?"

"Madame drops down upon us like--"