The fortunes of Fifi

by Molly Elliot Seawell

Then, and then only, was a message sent after Angéline to the chocolate shop.

But Angéline could not be found. She had seen Fifi swept away, as she thought, by the crowd, and had rushed out to join her; but Fifi had no mind to be caught, and Angéline found herself flopping about wildly, shrieking at the passers-by, without any stops whatever between her words:

“Have you seen Mademoiselle Fifi Mademoiselle Chiaramonti I lost her in the chocolate shop oh what will Madame Bourcet say good people I am sure she is lost for good and a hundred thousand francs in bank and what is to be become of Monsieur Louis where can Mademoiselle Fifi be?” and much more of the same sort.

Fifi, however, was half a mile away, and having exhausted the resources of the shop for gowns, tripped gaily into the furniture shop next door.

Here, thought Fifi cheerfully, she would be able to make substantial progress toward getting rid of Louis Bourcet and marrying Cartouche. She saw many splendid gilt tables, chairs, divans, cabinets and the like, which she, with her limited experience in furniture buying in the street of the Black Cat, thought must be very dear: some of the most splendid pieces must cost as much as four hundred francs, thought innocent Fifi.

But it was not enough for a thing to be expensive; it must be outrageous in taste and design to be available for her purpose, and with this in view she roved around the establishment, attended by a clerk of lofty manners and a patronizing air. At last, however, she pounced upon an object worthy to be classed with the yellow and purple brocade. This was a huge, blue satin bed, with elaborate gilt posts, and cornice, vast curtains of lace as well as satin, cords, tassels, and every other species of ornament which could be fastened to a bed.

Fifi, who had never seen anything like it before, gasped in her amazement and delight, the clerk meanwhile surveying her with an air of condescending amusement.

Here was the thing to drive Louis Bourcet to madness, thought Fifi, surveying the bed rapturously. If she could once get it into the house, it would be difficult to get it out, it was so large and so complex, and so very formidable. Fifi’s resolution was taken in an instant. She meant to have it if it cost a thousand francs. She rather resented the air of patronage with which the clerk explained the beauties of the bed to her. He seemed to be saying all the time:

“This is but time wasted. You can never afford anything so expensive as this.”

Fifi, calling up her talents as an actress, which were not inconsiderable, accentuated her innocent and open-mouthed wonder at the size and splendor of the bed. Then, intending to make a grand stroke which would paralyze the clerk, she said coolly: