up with a golden glow the great masses of the Louvre and the Tuileries. Fifi walked along, clutching Cartouche's arm tightly. She had forgotten Toto trotting soberly at her side, and apparently crushed by the hundred thousand francs, forgotten all but Cartouche, who seemed to her the only thing that was not changed in all the wide world. It was Cartouche who held Toto's blue ribbon and who straightened Fifi's hat when it fell over her eyes and she was too agitated to know it. Cartouche proposed to her to stop and rest in the Tuileries gardens—but Fifi would have none of it.
"Take me home," she cried. "Take me somewhere so I can cry as much as I like!"
This struck Cartouche as a perfectly natural way of receiving such stunning news; he himself could have wept with pleasure.
At last they were in Fifi's shabby little room, and Fifi was taking off her new cloak and folding it up mechanically.
"No need to do that, Fifi," said Cartouche, in a strange voice. "After to-morrow you need not wear thirty-franc cloaks any more."
"Oh, you cruel Cartouche!" cried Fifi, and burst into the anticipated fit of crying. She insisted on
