It appears they had not been seated very long, when Madame Flicflac
suddenly sprung up, with an exclamation of joy, and rushed forward to a
friend whom she saw pass.
The Baron was left alone with Jemimarann; and, whether it was the
champagne, or that my dear girl looked more than commonly pretty, I
don't know; but Madame Flicflac had not been gone a minute, when the
Baron dropped on his knees, and made her a regular declaration.
Poor Orlando Crump had found me out by this time, and was standing by
my side, listening, as melancholy as possible, to the famous Bohemian
Minnesingers, who were singing the celebrated words of the poet Gothy:--
"Ich bin ya hupp lily lee, du bist ya hupp lily lee.
Wir sind doch hupp lily lee, hupp la lily lee."
"Chorus--Yodle-odle-odle-odle-odle-odle hupp! yodle-odle-aw-o-o-o!"
They were standing with their hands in their waistcoats, as usual,
and had just come to the "o-o-o," at the end of the chorus of the
forty-seventh stanza, when Orlando started: "That's a scream!" says he.
"Indeed it is," says I; "and, but for the fashion of the thing, a very
ugly scream too:" when I heard another shrill "Oh!" as I thought; and
Orlando bolted off, crying, "By heavens, it's HER voice!" "Whose voice?"
says I.
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