The Emperor saw this, and looked significantly at his companions, who laughed. Then he continued:
“And this young lady, Mademoiselle Chiaramonti, I shall have some inquiries made about, and the result may surprise you. Adieu. Remember, you have a friend in your Emperor.”
This was spoken at the corner of the street of the Black Cat. Cartouche, with adoration in his eyes, watched the figure of the Emperor disappear in the darkness. Then, being careful to note that there were no onlookers, he kissed the snuff-box, exactly as he had seen Fifi kiss her paste brooch when she was enamored with its splendors, and hid his treasure in his breast.
But Fifi saw it before she slept.
CHAPTER II
NUMBER 1313
It took Fifi a whole month to recover from the shock of delight which she had experienced on the night she had acted before the Emperor. Meanwhile, her little head became slightly turned, and she gave herself airs of great haughtiness to Julie Campionet, and Moret, the leading man, and even to Duvernet, the manager. Duvernet was one of those unfortunates who are the victims of their own charms. He was reckoned a handsome man, as beauty goes on the left bank of the Seine, and was almost invincible with young ladies of the ballet, milliners’ girls and the like. When convinced that a deserving young woman had fallen in love with him, Duvernet felt sorry for her, and honestly tried, by reciprocating her passion, to keep her from throwing herself in the river.
By virtue of this amiable weakness, he had married in turn, as Cartouche had said, three of his leading ladies, and was only safe from Julie Campionet as long as Cartouche kept watch, like a wolf, over the lady. Separations always followed fast on Duvernet’s marriages, and his three wives were in such various stages of divorce, that, as Cartouche said, Duvernet himself did not know exactly where he stood matrimonially. Of one thing only was he sure: that Fifi did not harbor designs upon him. And for this, and on account of her cleverness with her needle, which enabled her to convert her white cotton petticoat into a toga for the manager, in an emergency, Duvernet put up with her airs and graces.
Fifi tried a few of these same airs and graces on Cartouche, but Cartouche had the habit of command with her, and Fifi had the habit of obedience with him; so these little experimental haughtinesses on Fifi’s part soon collapsed. Every night, when the performance was over, Cartouche would bring Fifi home, and after seeing that she was in her own little garret, retired to his, which was at the head of the stairs, and was the meanest and poorest of all the mean and poor rooms in the mean and poor lodging-house. But it was respectable; and to Cartouche, who had charged himself with the care of such a pair of sparkling dark eyes as Fifi’s, and such a musical voice, and such a neat foot and ankle as hers, this respectability was much.
If he had had his way Fifi would have been locked up in a convent and only let out to be married to a person of the highest respectability. But Fifi, in her own gay little obstinate head, by no means relished schemes of this sort, and was fully determined on having both flirtations and a husband, malgré all Cartouche could say.
The curious part of it was she could not construct any plan of life leaving out Cartouche. She had known him so long; he had carried her many weary miles, in spite of his bad leg, in that journey so long ago, when Fifi was but a mite of a child; he had often brought her a dinner when she suspected he had none for himself; he had taught her all she knew, and was always teaching her.