Just as Schneider kicked herself into the good graces of the Parisians, Catherine Lewis, of "Olivette" fame, managed to "fling" herself into popularity here. The Lewis fling in the farandole was known and sought after everywhere. It was a wild and wayward tossing of limbs and arms that caught the eye and held the attention not so much because there was anything artistic in it, but because one expected every minute to see it grow less and less restrained until it broke out into something like the reckless indecency of the cancan. It advertised Catherine Lewis as she has not been advertised since, and as she probably never will be again. As the "fling" is not dead yet I will try to describe it. After the solo and while the first chorus is being given she moves back with the other dancers, throwing her arms from right to left and left to right again, when the dancers came to a standstill. _Olivette_ is seen posing in a lop-sided, Pisa-like attitude, with both arms and head inclining to the left. The chorus is repeated, and as the repetition begins the dancers turn themselves loose with _Olivette_ in the van. "Oho" she sings and swings to the left; "Oho" to the right, "Oho" to the left again, when out pops the left slipper, followed swiftly by the right ditto, and the toe of the latter foot-covering tumbles over the horizon of the orchestra leader's head, and there is a confusion of embroidery and white linen and silk hose that fills the eye of the man in the parquette with a flash of joy and causes a warm still wind to roll in a breezeful way around his cardiacal region. "Oho," "Oho" and "Oho" again, with more body throwing, and this time the elevation of the toe of the left slipper above the line of vision, just a little higher than before, followed by three more "Oho's," and the quivering of the satin slipper on the right foot high over the foot-lights and in close range to the man with field glasses to his eyes who is sitting in the first row of the parquette. And that's all there is to the farandole--nine swings or throws of the body and three kicks every time she comes down the stage, the altitude of the kick growing with each succeeding effort until the last spasmodic, ærial evolution of the satin slipper brings about a display of linen that would do credit to the lingerie counter of a dry goods store. _Olivette_ has the attention of the entire audience while this is going on. She goes up and comes down the stage twice, swinging and kicking with an anatomical riot behind her, every female member of the company from the chorus girl up to the _Countess_ vying with _Olivette_ in sending the farandole off with a hurrah and multiplicity of "flings." When the chorus has come to an end, there is a bold encore for its repetition, and away they go again.