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To the escalier! or you, Madame la Comtesse, to your box, and smooth out your crumpled domino; as for "La Pataude," she is going to dance tonight. Gethryn, with Yvonne clinging tightly to his arm, entered the great vestibule and passed through the railed lanes to the broad inclined aisle which led to the floor.
"My love," said the frisky one, "who is the gentleman in the black mask who stares?" "I don't know," muttered the dear old man, in a cold sweat, "I don't know, but I wish I did." And the frisky one shrugged her shoulders and smiled at the mask. "What are they looking at?" whispered Yvonne, as she tripped along, holding very tightly to Gethryn's arm. "Only a quadrille `La Pataude' is dancing.
The crowd roared again. "Brava! Brava, La Pataude!" Yvonne turned away. "I don't like it. I don't find it amusing," she said, faintly. Gethryn's hand closed on hers. "Nor I," he said. "But you and your friends used to go to the students' ball at `Bullier's," she began, a little reproachfully.
And then, from the carriages and fiacres: Mademoiselle Patchouli and good old Monsieur Bonvin, Mademoiselle Nitouche and bad young Monsieur de Sacrebleu, Mademoiselle Moineau and Don Caesar Imberbe; and the pink silk domino of "La Pataude" mais n'importe! Allons, Messieurs, Mesdames, to the cloak room to the foyer!
Do you want to see it?" She nodded, and they approached the circle in the middle of which `La Pataude' and `Grille d'Egout' were holding high carnival. At every ostentatious display of hosiery the crowd roared. "Brava! Bis!" cried an absinthe-soaked old gentleman; "vive La Pataude!" For answer the lady dexterously raised his hat from his head with the point of her satin slipper.
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