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Raoul began to sing and Clemence instantly to pace and turn, posture, bow, respond to the song, start, swing, straighten, stamp, wheel, lift her hand, stoop, twist, walk, whirl, tiptoe with crossed ankles, smite her palms, march, circle, leap, an endless improvisation of rhythmic motion to this modulated responsive chant: Raoul. "Mo pas l'aimein ça." Clemence. "Miché Igenne, oap! oap! oap!" He.
"Yé donné vingt cinq sous pou' manzé poulé." She. "Miché Igenne, dit dit dit " He. "Mo pas l'aimein ça!" She. "Miché Igenne, oap! oap! oap!" He. "Mo pas l'aimein ça!" She. "Miché Igenne, oap! oap! oap!" Frowenfeld was not so greatly amused as the ladies thought he should have been, and was told that this was not a fair indication of what he would see if there were ten dancers instead of one.
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