Mademoiselle Goujon smiled at the Baron Silberstein.
“Tiens!” she cried, “the gayety has begun, I hope.”
Little Miss Ducely whispered to Lieutenant Faucon:
“Those are American students,” she sighed; “how jolly they seem to be, especially Mr Clifford! I wonder if she is so pretty!”
Half a dozen riotous Frenchmen in the box opposite jumped to their feet and waved their goblets at Clifford.
“A la plus jolie femme du monde!” they roared.
Clifford seized another glass and filled it.
“She is here!” he shouted, and sprang to the edge again. But Gethryn pulled him down.
“That’s too dangerous,” he laughed; “you could easily fall.”
“Oh, pshaw!” cried Clifford, draining the glass, and shaking it at the opposite box.