of dangly things hanging over my ears. I wore baggy trousers and
_babouches_. You may notice that I did not copy Power's Greek slave in the
way of dress.

I was completely covered with a white tulle veil, and led in by my fellow-
slaves, who were also in baggy trousers and _babouches_. There could be no
doubt that we were slaves, for we were overloaded with chains on arms,
ankles, and waist. I found circulation a very difficult matter shuffling
about in _babouches_, which are the most awkward things to walk in. One
risks falling forward at every step.

When they got me in front of the orchestra the slaves drew off my veil and
there I stood. The chorus retired, and I began my song. I had had only one
rehearsal with the orchestra, the day before; but the humming
accompaniment to my solo, that the unmusical slaves had to learn, had
taken a week to teach.

Every one said the scene was very pretty. My song was quite a success; I
had to sing it over again. Then I sang the waltz of Chopin, to which I had
put words and transposed two tones lower. I saw Delle Sedie in the
audience, with his mouth wide open, trying to breathe for me. It has
sixteen bars which must be sung in one breath, and has a compass from D on
the upper line to A on the lower line. Applause and flowers were showered
on me, and I was rather proud of myself. I felt like Patti when I picked
up my bouquets!

Later on in the play I had to say my "four words," which turned out to be
six words: _On ne peut etre plus joli_. Though I was frightened out of my
wits, I managed not to disgrace myself; but I doubt if any one heard one
of the six words I said. The Empress sent me a little bunch of violets,