"No, no! It is not right, Fifi—I can not do you so cruel a wrong!"
"You are almost as bad as Louis Bourcet," remarked Fifi, straightening her curly hair, which was all over her face. "Nevertheless, I shall marry you this day fortnight."
For answer, Cartouche vaulted over the half-door, in spite of his bad leg, and was gone clattering down the stairs. Fifi listened as the sound died away, and then ran to the window to see him go out of the house and walk off, as fast as he could, down the street of the Black Cat.
"Toto," said Fifi to her friend, taking him up in her arms: "We—you and I—are not good enough for Cartouche, but all the same, we mean to have him. I can not live without him—that is, I will not, which comes to the same thing—and all the other men I have ever known seem small and mean alongside of Cartouche—" which showed that Fifi, as she claimed, really had some sense.
As for Cartouche, he walked along through the narrow streets into the crowded thoroughfare, full of shadows even then, although it was still early in the soft, spring afternoon. He neither knew nor
