Still, despite all this, Lola kept her public. After all, a countess was a countess. But, before long, there was a difference of opinion with the manager of the theatre in which she was appearing. Lola, who never brooked criticism, had "words" with him. High words, as it happened; and, flourishing her whip in his face, she tore up her contract and walked out of the building.

"Get somebody else," she said. "I'm through."

The difference of opinion appears to have arisen because Lola elected to consider herself "insulted" by a member of the audience while she was dancing, and the manager had not taken her part. The next evening, accordingly, she made a speech in public, giving him a "bit of her mind." The result was, declared the San Francisco Alta, "the Countess came off the victor, bearing away the bravas and bouquets. At the conclusion of her address she was hailed by thunderous cheers, amid which she smiled sweetly, dropped a curtsey, and retired gracefully."

Much to their surprise, those who imagined that the honours of the evening went to Lola read in the next issue of the Californian that "the applause was all sham, the paid enthusiasm of a hired house." This was more than flesh and blood could stand. At any rate, it was more than Lola could stand; and she sent the editor a fierce letter, challenging him to a duel. "I must request," was its last passage, "that this affair of honour be arranged by your seconds as soon as possible, as my time is quite as valuable as your own: MARIE DE LANDSFELD-HULL (LOLA MONTEZ)."

The editor of the Californian did not accept the suggestion. Instead, he applied the necessary balm, and the pistols-for-two-and-coffee-for-one order was countermanded.

III

A woman of moods, when Lola made a change, it was a complete one. She made one now. The artificiality of the towns, with their false standards and atmosphere of pretence, had begun to pall. She wanted to try a fresh milieu. Everybody was talking just then of Grass Valley, a newly opened-up district, set amid a background of the rugged Sierras, where gangs of miners were delving for gold in the bowels of Mother Earth, and, if half the accounts were true, amassing fortunes. Why not go there and see for herself? It would at least be a novel experience.

No sooner said than done. Hiring a mule team and wagon, and accompanied by Patrick Hull, she started off on a preliminary tour of inspection of the district.




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