“O,” cried Morrice, “there's no occasion for such haste; the rehearsal does not begin till one.”
“You are mistaken, sir,” said Mr Monckton; “it is to begin at twelve o'clock.”
“O ay, very true,” returned Morrice; “I had forgot the dances, and I suppose they are to be rehearsed first. Pray, Miss Beverley, did you ever see any dances rehearsed?”
“No, sir.”
“You will be excessively entertained, then, I assure you. It's the most comical thing in the world to see those signores and signoras cutting capers in a morning. And the figuranti will divert you beyond measure; you never saw such a shabby set in your life: but the most amusing thing is to look in their faces, for all the time they are jumping and skipping about the stage as if they could not stand still for joy, they look as sedate and as dismal as if they were so many undertaker's men.”
“Not a word against dancing!” cried Sir Robert, “it's the only thing carries one to the Opera; and I am sure it's the only thing one minds at it.”
The two ladies were then handed to Mrs Harrel's vis-a-vis; and the gentlemen, joined without further ceremony by Mr Morrice, followed them to the Haymarket.
The rehearsal was not begun, and Mrs Harrel and Cecilia secured themselves a box upon the stage, from which the gentlemen of their party took care not to be very distant.
They were soon perceived by Mr Gosport, who instantly entered into conversation with Cecilia. Miss Larolles, who with some other ladies came soon after into the next box, looked out to courtsie and nod, with her usual readiness, at Mrs Harrel, but took not any notice of Cecilia, though she made the first advances.
“What's the matter now?” cried Mr Gosport; “have you affronted your little prattling friend?”