Fifi and Toto became intimate at once, to the delight of the crowd, as well as of Toto’s master. The Italian saw, in this evidence of the dog’s gentle disposition, a better chance to sell him. A stout, red-faced woman, showily dressed, immediately offered eighteen francs for the dog. The Italian held out stoutly for twenty, and to clinch the matter, brought out from his clothes somewhere a complete ballet dancer’s outfit; and in the wink of an eye Toto was doing a beautiful ballet, his skirts of pink spangled tulle waving up and down around his slim, little black legs, a low-necked bodice showing a necklace around his throat, earrings jangling in his ears, and his head affectedly stuck on one side, while he ogled the gentlemen in true ballet-dancer’s style.
Oh, it was delicious! Fifi almost wept with delight as Toto pirouetted, his tulle skirts waving and his earrings tinkling musically. And when at last he retired and sat down, fanning himself with his skirts, Fifi’s heart, as well as her hard-earned money, was Toto’s.
The stout, red-faced woman was obviously impressed with Toto’s value, for she immediately said to the Italian:
“Nineteen francs, Monsieur.”
The Italian shook his head; and then, scarcely knowing what she was doing, Fifi cried out in her musical, high-pitched voice:
“Twenty francs! Oh, Toto, you are mine!”
And holding her arms open, Toto jumped into them and was cuddled to her breast.
It was all over in a minute. The crowd had dispersed, and Fifi, with Toto in her arms, and his ballet dress in her pocket, where now only ten of her thirty francs reposed, was rather dumfounded at the success of her sudden venture. The cloak, of course, was out of the question—and what should she say to Cartouche? But the touch of Toto’s little black paws gave her courage, and it was plain that her love for him at first sight was reciprocated. So Fifi started back to her garret with Toto, inventing on the way her replies to the wigging Cartouche was sure to give her.
She had scarcely got Toto into her room, when a rap came at the door, which Fifi recognized, and clapping Toto into the cupboard, she prepared to face Cartouche.
“Well,” said Cartouche, walking in. “Where is the cloak?”