onions, and some chocolate. Then he went into a wine shop for a bottle of wine.
The wine shop was a cheerful, dirty, agreeable place that he knew well. When he entered he found the shop full of men, standing around a table on which was a blindfolded boy with a hat full of slips of paper in his hand.
A shout greeted Cartouche's arrival.
"You are just in time, Monsieur Cartouche," cried the proprietor, a jolly red-faced man. "You make the last and twenty-fifth man necessary to join our lottery. I have bought a ticket in the Grand Imperial Lottery, which is to be drawn in a fortnight, and for every bottle of wine I sell, and a franc extra, I give my customers a chance in the lottery ticket, limiting it to twenty-five chances. Come now—I see good luck written all over you—hand me your franc."
Cartouche handed out his franc, bought his bottle of wine, and joined the circle at the table. The little boy handed the hat around, and every man took a slip out and read thereon a number. Cartouche took his slip and read out:
"Number 1313!"
