h. Fresh conquests. In
November, 1701, she introduced her world-famed Bavarian fandango, which
literally took Paris by storm--it was in her dressing-room afterward
that she made her celebrated remark to Maria Pippello (her only rival).
Maria came ostensibly to congratulate her on her success, but in reality
to insult her. "_Ma petite_," she said, sneering, "_l'hibou est-il sur
le haie?_" Quick as thought Bibi turned round and replied with a gay
toss of her curls, "_Non, mais j'ai la plume de ma tante!_" Oh, witty,
sharp-tongued Bibi! A word must be said of the glorious ballets she
originated which charmed France for nearly thirty years. There were
"Life of a Rain Drop," "Hope Triumphant," and "Angels Visiting Ruined
Monastery at Night." This last was an amazing creation for one so
uneducated and uncultured as La Jolie Bibi; people flocked to the Opera
again and again in order to see it and applaud the ravishing originator.
Then came her meeting with the King in his private box. We are told she
curtsied low, and, glancing up at him coyly from between her bent knees,
gave forth her world-renowned epigram, "_Comment va, Papa?_" Louis was
charmed by this exquisite exhibition of drollery and _diablerie_, and
three weeks later she was brought to dance at Versailles. This was a
triumph indeed--La Belle Bibi was certainly not one to miss
opportunities. A month later she found herself installed at Court--the
King's Right Hand. Then began that amazing reign of hers--short lived,
but oh, how triumphant, dukes, duchesses, countesses, even princes,
paying homage at the feet of La Bibi the dancer, now Hortense, Duchesse
de Mal-Moulle! Did she abuse her power? Some say she did, some say she
didn't; some say she might have, some say she might not have; but there
is no denying that her beauty and gaiety won every heart that was
brought into contact with her. Every afternoon regularly Louis was wont
to visit her by the private staircase to her apartments; together they
would pore over the maps and campaigns of war drawn up and submitted by
the various generals. Then when Louis was weary Bibi would put the maps
in the drawer, draw his head onto her breast, and sing to him songs of
her youth, in the attractive cracked voice that was the bequest of her
mother who used to sing daily whilst she seamed and seamed. Meanwhile,
intrigue was placing its evil fingers upon the strings of her fate.
Lampoons were launched against her, pasquinades were w