I congratulate you, my friend, upon having arrived in Paris in time to see her, for she has accomplished her twelfth lustre." I confessed that she was a wonderful dancer.
"She is the first artist," continued my friend, "who has dared to spring and jump on a French stage.

None ventured upon doing it before her, and, what is more extraordinary, she does not wear any drawers." "I beg your pardon, but I saw...." "What?
Nothing but her skin which, to speak the truth, is not made of lilies and roses." "The Camargo," I said, with an air of repentance, "does not please me.

I like Dupres much better." An elderly admirer of Camargo, seated on my left, told me that in her youth she could perform the 'saut de basque' and even the 'gargouillade', and that nobody had ever seen her thighs, although she always danced without drawers.
"But if you never saw her thighs, how do you know that she does not wear silk tights ?" "Oh! that is one of those things which can easily be ascertained.

I see you are a foreigner, sir." "You are right." But I was delighted at the French opera, with the rapidity of the scenic changes which are done like lightning, at the signal of a whistle--a thing entirely unknown in Italy.

I likewise admired the start given to the orchestra by the baton of the leader, but he disgusted me with the movements of his sceptre right and left, as if he thought that he could give life to all the instruments by the mere motion of his arm.