"Oh, you dear old wig, how happy I was when I wore you!" she said to herself, clapping the white wig over her own rich brown hair. "When I put you on I became a marquise at the court of Louis le Grand, and how fine it seemed! Never mind, I shall be a marquise again, and get forty francs the week at least! And how nice it will be to be quarreling with Julie Campionet again, the wretch! And Duvernet—I shall not forget to remind him of how I gave him my best white cotton petticoat for his toga—and sewed it with my own fingers, too! And I shall say to him, 'Recollect, Monsieur, I am no longer Fifi, but Mademoiselle Josephine Chiaramonti, granddaughter of the cousin of a reigning sovereign, and I am the young lady who won the grand prize in the lottery, and spent it all; you never had a leading lady before who knew how to spend a hundred thousand francs.' I think I can see Duvernet now—and as I say it I shall toy with my paste brooch. I can't buy any jewels, for that wouldn't help me to get rid of Louis Bourcet, or to get Cartouche; so I shall tell Duvernet that nothing in the way of diamonds seemed worth while after those I had already."
Fifi fondled her paste brooch, which was kept in
