"Why not?" said Pequita; "It would do me good, and my father too! Such
poor, sad people come to the theatre where I dance,--they love to see
me, and I love to dance for them--but then--they too would be pleased
if I could dance at the Royal Opera, because they would know I could
then earn enough money to make my father comfortable."
"What a very matter-of-fact statement in favour of kings!" exclaimed
Max Graub;--"Here is a child who does not care a button for a king as
king; but she thinks he would be useful as a figure-head to dance to,--
for idiotic Fashion, grouping itself idiotically around the figure-
head, would want to see her dance also--and then--oh simple
conclusion!--she would be able to support her father! Truly, a king has
often been put to worse uses!"
"I think," said Pasquin Leroy, "I could manage to get you a trial at
the Royal Opera, Pequita! I know the manager."
She looked up with a sudden blaze of light in her eyes, sprang towards
him, dropped on one knee with an exquisite grace, and kissed his hand.
"Oh!--you will be goodness itself!" she cried;--"And I will be
grateful--indeed I will!--so grateful!"
He was startled and amazed at her impulsive action, and taking her
little hand, gently pressed it.
"Poor child!" he said;--"You must not thank me till I succeed.
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