Let
that suffice.
The opera had an unprecedented run of sixty-two nights. Every one
marvelled. Such a thing had never happened before and when the next
season the run was continued its attractions were undimmed, save in one
particular--the original Polly Peachum was no longer to be seen or
heard. Gradually it became gossipped about that the Duke of Bolton's
suit had succeeded. The Polly over whom everybody, rich and poor, high
and low, for nearly five months had lost their heads and their hearts,
had quitted the stage for ever. Twenty-three years later the duke was
able to prove his devotion by making her his duchess. Even then she
rarely took part in fashionable functions. Her simple tastes and dislike
of display never deserted her. Yet she was not and is not forgotten,
though nearly two hundred years have passed away since she burst into
the full flush of fame. Her memory is preserved in every one of her
innumerable successors who have succeeded in reproducing in any degree
her charm and artlessness. This memory is not attached to Lavinia
Duchess of Bolton, but to "Pretty Polly Peachum."
THE END.
End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Madame Flirt, by Charles E. Pearce
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