A new
Spanish Donna has been introduced. Although the visitation
was unheralded by the customary flourish of trumpeting _on
dits_, it was extremely successful. The young lady came and
saw and conquered. Many floral offerings were shot at her as
a compliment, and the useful M. Coulos--ever at hand in such
an emergency--assisted very industriously in picking them
up. As for _El Oleano_, this is a sort of cachucha; and it
certainly gives Donna Lola Montez an opportunity of
introducing herself to the public under a very captivating
aspect.... A lovely picture she is to contemplate. There is
before you the very perfection of Spanish beauty--the tall
handsome figure, the full lustrous eye, the joyous animated
countenance, and the dark raven tresses. You gaze upon the
Donna with delight and admiration.

It was just after the third item on her programme and while she stood
before the curtain, bowing and smiling her acknowledgments, that there
was an unexpected interruption. An ominous hiss suddenly split the
air. The sound came from the occupants of the stage box in which Lord
Ranelagh and his party had ensconced themselves. As at a prearranged
signal, the occupants of the opposite box took it up and repeated it.
The audience gasped in astonishment, and looked to Lord Ranelagh for a
solution. He supplied one promptly. "Egad!" he exclaimed in a loud
voice, "that's not Lola Montez at all. It's Betsy James, an Irish
girl. Ladies and gentlemen, we're being properly swindled!"

"Swindled" was an ugly word. The pit and gallery, feeling that they
were in some mysterious fashion being defrauded, followed the cue thus
given them, and a volume of hisses and cat-calls sprang from the
throats that, a moment earlier, had bellowed vociferous cheers. The
great Michael Costa, who was conducting, dropped his baton in
astonishment, and, refusing to pick it up again, left his desk. There
is a theory that it was this untoward incident that led him to
transfer himself from the Haymarket to Covent Garden. Quite possible.
Musicians are temperamental folk.

It was left for Lumley to deal with the situation. He did so by
ringing down the curtain, while Lola, in tears and fury, rushed off to
her dressing-room.

III

Perhaps they left early, but none of the critics saw anything of this
_denouement_. What, however, they did see they described in rapturous,
not to say, florid t