Madame, what horror is zis place!" "Ah, that Blauring!" cried Madame Donatelli, in her rage.

"The beast! How dare he bring me here--_me_!" (she smote her bosom)--"who have sung in the grand in the best houses of the Continent--in Italy, Paris, London, St.Petersburg! I shall not survive this!" "_Perfide_!" cried Peruchini, in assent.

"_Perfide_! R-r-rascal! _Cochon_! Pig unspikkab'!" "But, madame," he resumed, with gestures and intonations suitable for the scene.

"Behole! It is I who have lofe you so long.

To lofe--ah, it is so divine! How can you riffuse ?" Madame Donatelli withdrew with proper operatic dignity.