of the Emperor, and are perfectly at ease when he speaks to them, while the councillors of state and the marshals and the great nobles can not look him in the eye."
"And may I ask who is this Cartouche, Mademoiselle?" asked the ecclesiastic.
"He is a friend of mine," replied Fifi warily.
At last, after twenty minutes, Madame Bourcet came out. She was pale and agitated, but showed satisfaction in every feature.
"The Holy Father approves of my nephew, provided you have no objection to him," she whispered. And the next moment Fifi found herself alone with the Holy Father.
Although the afternoon was mild and sunny, a large fire was burning on the hearth, and close to it, in a large armchair, sat Pius the Seventh. He gave Fifi the same impression of whiteness and benevolence he had given her at that chance meeting three months before.
As Fifi entered she made a low bow—not the one that Madame Bourcet had taught her, but a much better one, taught her by her own tender little heart. And instantly, as before, there was an electric sympathy established between the old man
