avoid Fifi, he mounted softly to his garret. As he approached Fifi's door, he saw the light through a chink. Fifi heard his step, quiet as it was, and opening the door wide, cried out gaily:
"Here is supper ready for you, Cartouche, and Toto and I waiting for you."
Cartouche could not resist. He had meant to—but after all, he was but human—and Fifi was so sweet—so sweet to him. He came in, therefore, awkwardly enough, and feeling like a villain the while, he sat down at the rickety little table, on which Fifi had spread a feast, seasoned with love.
"Cartouche," she said presently, when they were eating and drinking, "you must get a holiday for this day fortnight."
"What for?" asked Cartouche, gnawing his chop—Fifi cooked chops beautifully.
"Because that is the day we are to be married," briskly responded Fifi.
Cartouche put down his chop.
"Fifi," he said. "You will break my heart. Why will you persist in throwing yourself away on me?"
"Dear me!" cried Fifi to Toto, "how very silly Cartouche is to-night! And what a horrid fiancé he makes—worse than Louis Bourcet."
