“You have won, Monsieur Cartouche, in our lottery, and I hope you will win in the Imperial Lottery. The number of the ticket I offer you is 1313.”
There was another shout of derision, and several of the disappointed ones commiserated with Cartouche on the load of ill luck he was carrying off with him in number 1313, but Cartouche stoutly maintained that there was nothing to be afraid of, and hurried back to the street of the Black Cat.
There was just time for him to get to the theater and dress. The people came pouring into the house, and the box office took in the enormous sum of two hundred and ninety-eight francs. It was again Duvernet’s Roman tragedy, and it went finely. Fifi again acted as if inspired, and received any number of recalls, besides a wreath of holly, with an imitation silver buckle in it, handed over the footlights from an unknown admirer.
During the waits between the acts she told her fellow actors of Toto’s charms and accomplishments, so that the other women, some of whom possessed nothing more interesting than babies, were furiously jealous.
But at last the play was over, and Fifi and Cartouche were in Fifi’s garret, with a good fire in the stove, made with Cartouche’s fagots, the cabbage-soup, the onions, the wine, and the sausage, and the chocolate on the table, and Toto to make the trio complete. Cartouche had sneaked the cloak in, without Fifi’s seeing it, and just as they were sitting down to the table he said carelessly, as if thirty-franc cloaks were the most ordinary incidents in life:
“Fifi, if you will open that bundle on the chair, you will find a little gift from me.”
Fifi ran and tore the parcel open, and there was the beautiful, warm, crimson cloak. She flew to Cartouche, and with dewy eyes, although her lips were smiling, gave him one of those hearty kisses she had given him when she was a little, black-eyed damsel ten years old. Cartouche did not return the kiss, but sat, first pale and then red, and with such a strange look on his face that Fifi was puzzled.
“Never mind,” she said to herself. “The next time it will be he who kisses me—not I who kiss him.”
But nothing could spoil the joy over the new cloak.
“To think that I should have the red cloak and Toto, too! Oh, it is too much!” cried Fifi.