“You are your mother over again, my dear! If she were only here now! But where is Saint-Prosper? He has not yet congratulated you? He, our good genius, whose generosity has made all this possible!” And Barnes half-turned, when she placed a detaining hand on his arm.
“No, no!”
“Why, my dear, have you and he––”
“Is it not enough that you are pleased?” replied Constance, hastily, with a glance so shining he forgot all further remonstrances.
“Pleased!” exclaimed Barnes. “Why, I feel as gay as Momus! But we’ll sing Te Deum later at the festive board. Go now and get ready!”
CHAPTER X
LAUGHTER AND TEARS
A supper was given the company after the performance by the manager, to which representatives of the press––artful Barnes!––had been invited. Of all the merry evenings in the bohemian world, that was one of the merriest. Next to the young girl sat the Count de Propriac, his breast covered with a double row of medals. Of the toasts drunk to Constance, the manager, poets Straws and Phazma, etc., unfortunately no record remains. Of the recollections of the wiry old lady; the impromptu verse of the rhymsters; the roaring speech of Mr. Barnes; the song and dainty flower dance by Susan and Kate––only the bare facts have descended to the chronicler.