"_Stop these fellows, Bienvenu, stop them just a minute, till I tell them something_." Bienvenu turned and brandished his instruments of discord in an imploring way to the crowd.

They slackened their pace, two or three hushed their horns and joined the prayer of little White and Bienvenu for silence.

The throng halted.

The hush was delicious.
"Bienvenu," said little White, "don't shivaree old Poquelin to-night; he's"-- "My fwang," said the swaying Bienvenu, "who tail you I goin' to chahivahi somebody, eh?
Yon sink bickause I make a little playfool wiz zis tin pan zat I am _dhonk_ ?" "Oh, no, Bienvenu, old fellow, you're all right.

I was afraid you might not know that old Poquelin was sick, you know, but you're not going there, are you ?" "My fwang, I vay soy to tail you zat you ah dhonk as de dev'.