“Quite too much—too much by way of a dog,” remarked Cartouche; but as Toto at that moment jumped from his chair at the table on to Cartouche’s knee, it became impossible not to be friendly with the little rogue, and perfect harmony reigned among the three friends.
Cartouche and Fifi were among the poorest people in Paris; they worked hard for a very little money; the room was small and bare, and although Fifi had now a cloak for the winter, she would have been better off for some warm stockings, and Cartouche for some flannel shirts.
Nevertheless, they were as happy as the birds in spring. They ate, they drank, they laughed, they sang. Fifi dressed Toto up in his ballet costume, and together they did a beautiful ballet divertissement for Cartouche, which he liberally applauded. He told Fifi of his twenty-five francs a week, as well as Duvernet’s present, and Fifi concluded that he would be a desirable parti for his money as well as for his solid virtues, and determined to propose to him before another year should pass.
Cartouche had forgotten about the lottery ticket, but just as he was leaving, he remembered it and handed it to Fifi. At the sight of the numbers on it, Fifi shrieked:
“Take it away! Take it away! It will bring bad luck! Take it away!”
“I won’t,” replied Cartouche, “and do you, Fifi, take care of it. You may draw the hundred-thousand-franc prize in the lottery yet. Just as likely as not the prizes are put on the numbers that nobody would choose.”
This somewhat reconciled Fifi to the danger of keeping number 1313; so she reluctantly put it away in the box where she kept her treasure of a paste brooch, remarking meanwhile:
“If it draws the hundred-thousand-franc prize, I will marry you, Cartouche.”
Again Cartouche turned red and pale. These jokes which seemed to amuse Fifi so much, cut him to the quick. He only growled:
“About as much chance of one as of the other.”