I chanced to be in a frightful den — I like my dens dirty — it was a dance, so called, and there was a cancan such as I never saw in my day. Yes, there you have progress. All of a sudden I saw a little girl of thirteen, nicely dressed, dancing with a specialist in that line, with another one vis-�-vis. Her mother was sitting on a chair by the wall. You can’t fancy what a cancan that was! The girl was ashamed, blushed, at last felt insulted, and began to cry. Her partner seized her and began whirling her round and performing before her; everyone laughed and — I like your public, even the cancan public — they laughed and shouted, ‘Serves her right — serves her right! Shouldn’t bring children!’ Well, it’s not my business whether that consoling reflection was logical or not.