“La musica! Pacohuila, la musica!” cried Madame, starting to her feet and sounding frenzied.
Ciccio got up quickly and took his mandoline from its case.
“A—A—Ai—Aii—eee—ya—” began Madame, with a long, faint wail. And on the wailing mandoline the music started. She began to dance a slight but intense dance. Then she waved for a partner, and set up a tarantella wail. Louis threw off his coat and sprang to tarantella attention, Ciccio rang out the peculiar tarantella, and Madame and Louis danced in the tight space.
“Brava—Brava!” cried the others, when Madame sank into her place. And they crowded forward to kiss her hand. One after the other, they kissed her fingers, whilst she laid her left hand languidly on the head of one man after another, as she sat slightly panting. Ciccio however did not come up, but sat faintly twanging the mandoline. Nor did Alvina leave her place.
“Pacohuila!” cried Madame, with an imperious gesture. “Allaye! Come—”
Ciccio laid down his mandoline and went to kiss the fingers of Kishwégin. Alvina also went forward. Madame held out her hand. Alvina kissed it. Madame laid her hand on the head of Alvina.
“This is the squaw Allaye, this is the daughter of Kishwégin,” she said, in her Tawara manner.
“And where is the brave of Allaye, where is the arm that upholds the daughter of Kishwégin, which of the Swallows spreads his wings over the gentle head of the new one!”
“Pacohuila!” said Louis.
“Pacohuila! Pacohuila! Pacohuila!” said the others.