be no gorgeous
theatres flaring with gas, and certainly no policemen to take down
men's words. Everything in the world was wrong,--except those twenty
Members of Parliament.

Three or four days after this, Rachel found that a report was abroad
at the theatre that she had dissolved her engagement with Mr. Jones.
At this time the three policemen had already expressed their opinion
about Mr. O'Mahony; but they, for the present, may be left in
obscurity. "_Est-il vrai que M. Jones n'existe plus?_" These words
were whispered to her, as she was dressing, by Madame Socani, while
Mr. O'Mahony had gone out to say a word to a police detective,
who had called to see him at the theatre. As Madame Socani was an
American woman, there was no reason why she should not have asked the
question in English--were it not that as it referred to an affair of
love it may be thought that French was the proper language.

"Mr. Jones isn't any more, as far as I am concerned," said Rachel,
passing on.

"Oh, he has gone!" said Madame Socani, following her into the slips.
They were both going on to the stage, but two minutes were allowed
to them, while Mahomet M. Moss declared, in piteous accents, the
woe which awaited him because Alberta,--who was personated by
Rachel,--had preferred the rustic Trullo to him who was by birth a
Prince of the Empire.

"Yes, Mr. Jones has gone, Madame,--as you are so anxious to know."

"But why? Can it be that there was no Mr. Jones?" Then Rachel flashed
round upon the woman. "I suppose there was no Mr. Jones?"

"_O, mio tesor._" These last three words were sung in a delicious
contralto voice by Elmira,--the Madame Socani of the occasion,--and
were addressed to the Prince of the Empire, who, for the last six
weeks, had been neglecting her charms. Rachel was furious at the
attack made upon her, but in the midst of her fury she rushed on to
the stage, and kneeling at the feet of Elmira, declared her purpose
of surrendering the Prince altogether. The rustic Trullo was quite
sufficient for her. "Go, fond girl. Trullo is there, tying up the
odoriferous rose." Then they all four broke out into that grand
quartette, in the performance of which M. Le Gros had formed that
opinion which had induced him to hold out such golden hopes to
Rachel. Rachel looked up during one of her grand shakes and saw Frank
Jones seated far back among the boxes. "Oh, he hasn't left London
yet," she said to herself, as she prepared for anothe