“Assez de cette éternelle voix italienne,” said Madame. “Courage, courage au chemin d’Angleterre.”
“Assez de cette éternelle voix rauque,” said Ciccio, looking round. Madame suddenly pulled herself together.
“They will not have my name. They will call you Allay!” she said to Alvina. “Is it good? Will it do?”
“Quite,” said Alvina.
And she could not understand why Gigi, and then the others after him, went off into a shout of laughter. She kept looking round with bright, puzzled eyes. Her face was slightly flushed and tender looking, she looked naïve, young.
“Then you will become one of the tribe of Natcha-Kee-Tawara, of the name Allaye? Yes?”
“Yes,” said Alvina.
“And obey the strict rules of the tribe. Do you agree?”
“Yes.”
“Then listen.” Madame primmed and preened herself like a black pigeon, and darted glances out of her black eyes.