- rectly in front of the shop a crowd had collected
around an Italian, who was exhibiting the most entirely fascinating little black dog that Fifi had ever seen. He was about as big as a good-sized rabbit, and was trimmed like a lion. Around his neck was tied a card on which was written:
Toto is my name, and I am a dog of the most aristocratic lineage in France, and I can be bought for twenty francs. See me dance and you will believe that I would be cheap at a hundred francs.
Fifi edged her way to where this angel of a dog was being shown by his owner, the Italian, and opening her arms wide, cried out in Italian:
"Come here, my beauty. Come here, dear Toto."
The dog ran to her, and placing his paws on her gown, gazed up into her shining eyes with that look of confiding friendship which only a dog's eyes can express. Fifi bent down, and Toto, putting out a sharp little red tongue, licked her delicate, cold cheek. Fifi was enraptured. Toto, with all his beauty, high descent and accomplishments, was not puffed up, but had a dog's true heart.
Fifi and Toto became intimate at once, to the delight of the crowd, as well as of Toto's master.
