"Cartouche: I will not stand your conduct. I give you warning; I will not permit it. You are responsible for my being here. But for you and that—" here a word was erased, but Cartouche saw the faint outlines of "devilish"—"lottery ticket, I should have still been in my little room under the roof—I should still have you and Toto. Oh, Cartouche, I shall have to marry Louis Bourcet—I see it, I know it, I feel it. He has not a fault in the world, so Madame Bourcet says. Imagine what a brute I shall appear alongside of him! He plays cribbage. That is his only dissipation. But I see that I must marry him, for this life I am leading can not last. Madame Bourcet tells me she has four or five diseases, any one of which is liable to carry her off any day; and then I should be left alone in Paris with a hundred thousand francs. Something—everything seems to be driving me toward marrying Louis Bourcet. Poor Louis! How sorry he will be after he gets me! Next week, Madame Bourcet takes me out to Fontainebleau where I am to be presented to the Holy Father. The gown has come home, and it is more hideous than it was in the shop. If the Holy Father has any taste in dress that gown will ruin
