picked up the dog, and Toto uttered a little pleading whine which was quite human in its entreaty. Being a very astute dog, he knew that Cartouche was not treating Fifi right, and so, pleaded for her.
Fifi, calmly watching Cartouche, saw that he was deeply agitated, and she was not in the least disturbed by it. Presently, dropping Toto, Cartouche strode toward the half-door, over which Fifi leaned.
"Fifi," he cried, in a voice of agony, "why do you torture me so? You know that I love you; and you know that I ought not to let you marry me—me, almost old enough to be your father, poor, obscure, half crippled, Fifi. I shall never forget the anguish of the first day I knew that I loved you; it was the day I found you acting with the players in the street. You were but sixteen, and I had loved you until then as a child, as a little sister—and suddenly, I was overwhelmed with a lover's love for you. But I swore to myself, on my honor, never to let you know it—never to speak a word of love to you—"
The strong man trembled, and fell, rather than sat upon a chair. Fifi, trembling a little herself, but still smiling, answered:
