the next day but one, the mystery was solved of the old lady who gave the ninety thousand francs to the soldiers’ orphans’ fund. it was not an old lady at all, but the young and pretty actress, mademoiselle fifi, who had drawn the great prize in the lottery. she had temporarily retired from the stage of the imperial theater, in the street of the black cat, but would shortly resume her place there as leading lady. so it was printed in the newspapers, and known in the salons of paris.
there was very nearly a mob in the street of the black cat, so many persons were drawn by curiosity to see fifi. fifi, peeping from her garret window, would have dearly liked to exhibit herself, but duvernet, for once stern, refused to let her show so much as an eyelash, except to those who bought a ticket to see her at the theater, when she was to appear in her great part of the roman maiden on the thursday week, the very day she had fixed upon to marry cartouche.
[pg 223]
in this determination to keep fifi in seclusion until the night of her reappearance on the stage, duvernet was backed up by cartouche, who reminded fifi of the enormous salary she was receiving of fifty francs the week. he had no inkling of the further rise in her fortunes of forty francs the week from the holy father.
meanwhile rehearsals were actively begun, and fifi had had the exquisite joy of seeing that julie campionet was furiously jealous of her. duvernet, in spite of his unceremonious behavior to her in private, treated her at rehearsals with a respect fitting the place she held on the programme and the stupendous salary she received. all of her fellow actors were either stand-offish with her or over-friendly, but this, fifi knew, was only a phase. cartouche alone treated her as he had always done, and even scolded her sharply, saying that in three months she had forgotten what it had taken her three years to learn. but this was hardly exact, for fifi, being a natural actress, had forgotten very little and had learned a great deal during her exile from the imperial theater.
on the morning after the announcement made in the newspapers about fifi’s gift a great clatter was [pg 224]heard in the street of the black cat. an imperial courier came riding to fifi’s door and handed in a letter with the imperial arms and seal. it was a notification that the next day, at noon, an imperial carriage would be sent for her that she might go to the tuileries and be thanked personally by the emperor and empress for her magnificent generosity to the soldiers’ orphans.
fifi turned pale as she read this letter. she did not mind the emperor, but the empress. and what should she wear?
while considering these momentous questions, duvernet rushed into the room. he had seen the courier and suspected his errand.
fifi, with blanched lips, told him. duvernet was nearly mad with joy.
“oh,” he cried. “if i was not already married to julie campionet and three other women i would marry you this moment, fifi.”
“marry me!” cried fifi, turning crimson, and finding her voice, which rose with every word she uttered. “marry me! you, duvernet! marry mademoiselle josephine chiaramonti! no! a thousand times no! julie campionet is good enough for you.”
[pg 225]
“i am as good as cartouche,” growled duvernet, stung by this vicious attack on himself and his wife.
“monsieur duvernet,” screamed fifi, stamping her foot, “if you wish me to appear at the imperial theater a week from thursday you will at once admit that julie campionet is good enough for you, and that i—i am far too good for you—but not too good for cartouche.”
duvernet hesitated, but the manager in him came uppermost. he conceded all that fifi claimed, but on returning to the theater cuffed the call-boy unmercifully by way of reprisal on somebody, after fifi’s exasperating behavior.
that night, at supper, cartouche was oppressed and depressed by this new honor awaiting fifi. presently he said to her seriously:
“fifi, it’s out of the question—your marrying me. why, you might marry an officer—who knows? now, fifi, don’t be a fool and insist on marrying me.”
“i won’t be a fool,” answered fifi promptly, “and i will marry you. the holy father told me to, and i expect the emperor will do the same. at all events, you, too, are to go to the tuileries.”
[pg 226]
“i!”
cartouche fell back in his chair.
“certainly. i could never get along without you.”
“but i couldn’t go in the coach with you.”
“no. you can be in the gardens, though, and if the emperor wants you he can send for you.”
cartouche in the end concluded he might as well go, not that he expected the emperor to send for him, but simply because fifi wished him to go. and he decided a very important point for fifi—what she should wear.
“now, don’t wear any of your wild hats, or that yellow gown, which can be heard screaming a mile away. remember, the emperor is not a duvernet, and the empress is not julie campionet. wear your little black bonnet, with your black gown and mantle, and you will look like what you are—my sweet little fifi.”
this was the first word of open lovemaking into which cartouche had suffered himself to be betrayed, and as soon as he had uttered it he jumped up from the supper table and ran to his own garret as quickly as his stiff leg would allow. fifi caught toto to her heart in lieu of cartouche and [pg 227]murmured, “he loves me! he loves me! he loves me!”
at noon, next day, a splendid imperial carriage drove into the street of the black cat and stopped before fifi’s door. fifi, dressed modestly and becomingly in black, appeared. she could not forbear carrying her huge muff, but as it was the fashion it did not detract from the propriety of her appearance.
the street was full when, assisted by a gorgeous footman, she took her seat in the carriage. duvernet was a rapturous spectator of fifi’s splendor, and she had the ecstasy of feeling that julie campionet was watching the whole magnificent event.
she sat up very straight as she drove through the bright and sunny streets toward the tuileries. as she entered the great gates she watched for cartouche, who was to be there. yes, there he was, looking out for her. fifi’s heart gave a great throb of relief, for she was really frightened half to death, and the nearness of cartouche made her feel a little safer. the look in his face as their eyes met was full of encouragement—it did not seem to him a dreadful thing at all to meet the emperor.
[pg 228]
this courage of fifi’s only lasted until the carriage door was opened, and she had to alight and walk an interminable distance through miles of gorgeous rooms, of mirrors, of paintings, of gilding, and, worse than all, in the company of the very polite old gentleman-in-waiting who escorted her.
she knew not how she found herself in a small boudoir, and presently the door opened and the emperor and empress entered, and at the first word spoken to her by the emperor, as with the holy father, fear instantly departed from her, and it seemed the most natural thing in the world for her to be there.
fifi made a very pretty bow to both the emperor and empress. the empress seated herself, and her kind eyes, her soft creole voice, her charming grace, captivated fifi, as it had done many of the greatest of the earth. but when the emperor spoke—ah, fifi was one of the people, after all—and like the old moustaches in cartouche’s regiment, she would have died for the emperor after having once seen him. he said to her:
“the empress and i wish to thank you for your splendid gift to the soldiers’ orphans, mademoiselle. [pg 229]was it not your whole fortune? for i remember well hearing that you had drawn the grand prize in the lottery.”
“yes, sire,” replied fifi, “but i am still well off.”
“i am glad to hear it, mademoiselle.”
“sire, the manager of the imperial theater is to give me fifty francs the week, and the holy father, to whom my grandfather was cousin, is to give me forty francs the week as long as i live; that is, if i do not put it on the bill-boards that i am mademoiselle chiaramonti, granddaughter of the pope’s cousin.”
“it was i who caused that relationship to be established, after having heard your name, the evening that my good friend cartouche invited me to see you act. but what ingenious person was it who dreamed of putting your relationship to the pope on the bill-boards?”
“i and our manager, monsieur duvernet, sire. monsieur duvernet knows how to advertise.”
the emperor laughed a little.
“i should think so. i have met monsieur duvernet—the same evening, mademoiselle, that i had [pg 230]the pleasure of seeing you act. so the holy father interfered with yours and duvernet’s little plan—ha! ha!”
“yes, sire. first, monsieur duvernet said he would give me twenty francs to be billed as the pope’s cousin, and the holy father said he would give me twenty-five francs to be billed simply as mademoiselle fifi. then monsieur duvernet said thirty francs, and the holy father said thirty-five; and monsieur duvernet said thirty-eight, and the holy father said forty. that was such a large sum, sire, that monsieur duvernet could not meet it.”
“and what does our friend cartouche say to this? cartouche,” he explained to the empress, “is my old friend of lodi, the only man who crossed the bridge before me, and he came to see me and consulted me about this young lady’s fortune.”
“cartouche, sire, does not know it.”
“why? have you fallen out with cartouche?”
“oh, no, sire. cartouche and i are to be married a week from thursday,” replied fifi, smiling and blushing.
“then explain why he does not know about the [pg 231]pope’s forty francs, since you are to marry him so soon?”
“because, sire, cartouche does not want to marry me—i mean, that is, he thinks he is not young enough or rich enough or well-born enough for me—which is all nonsense, sire.”
“yes—i know something about you and cartouche.”
“and i never could have married him if i had not got rid of my money. but i am afraid if cartouche knows of my forty francs the week he will make a difficulty.”
“in that case we must not let him know anything about it. but i was told by my arch-treasurer lebrun that a marriage had been arranged for you with a young advocate here whom lebrun knows well, by name bourcet. what becomes of that?”
fifi smiled and blushed more than ever, and remained silent until the empress said, in her flute-like voice:
“perhaps, mademoiselle, you could not love him.”
“your majesty, i hated him,” answered fifi, with the greatest earnestness. “he was the most correct [pg 232]person and the greatest bore in the universe. unlike cartouche, he thought himself much too good for me, but was willing to take me on account of my hundred thousand francs. at first i tried to frighten him off.”
“how, mademoiselle?” asked the emperor, now laughing outright.
“sire, by—by—buying things. dreadful clothes, and—and—monkeys, but i was afraid of the monkeys and would not keep them—and a blue satin bed made for the empress—”
“i know that diabolical bed—so they swindled you into buying it?”
“no, sire, it was only a way of squandering money and frightening that ridiculous louis bourcet. and—i made love to him very outrageously—which was nearly the death of him. louis bourcet is not the sort of a man to be first across the bridge of lodi. the only way to have got him across would have been to carry him. but in spite of all i could do he would have married me if i had not found a way to get rid of my money.”
“tell me how you contrived to get your money in your own hands?”
then fifi told about putting the box of old shoes [pg 233]in the bank and sewing the money up in the mattress, just as she had told the pope, and both the emperor and the empress laughed aloud at it. and fifi further explained how cartouche’s letter had showed her the way to make a good use of her uncomfortable fortune instead of merely throwing it away.
the empress then asked, in her charming manner, some questions about fifi’s life, and both the emperor and empress seemed excessively amused at the simplicity of fifi’s answer.
“i shall have to tell lebrun, the arch-treasurer, about this,” cried the emperor; “and now, what can i or the empress do for you?”
fifi reflected a moment.
“if you please, sire,” she replied after a moment, “to send for cartouche—he is just outside in the gardens—and order him to marry me a week from next thursday. for, if he should happen to find out that i have forty francs the week as long as i live, there’s no telling what he will do, unless your majesty gives him positive orders.”
the emperor rang, and his aide appearing, he was directed to find the fellow named cartouche.
[pg 234]
“he is very homely and has a stiff leg,” said fifi, by way of description of her lover.
while cartouche was being found, the emperor, after his wont, began to ask fifi all manner of questions, especially about the holy father, and listened attentively to her replies. his only comment was:
“a good old man, a dreamer, who lives in his affections.”
when cartouche was ushered into the room the empress spoke to him with the greatest kindness, but the emperor, frowning, said:
“mademoiselle fifi tells me she has a mind to marry you a week from thursday, and you are hanging back.”
“sire,” replied cartouche, respectfully, but without the least fear, “i am too old and ugly for fifi, and i have a stiff leg. your majesty knows what i say is true.”
“no, i do not know it, and cartouche, obey what i say to you. a week from thursday, or before, if mademoiselle fifi requires, you are to be ready to marry her, and if you balk the least in the world i shall have a sergeant and a file of soldiers to persuade you. do you understand?”
“oh, sire,” replied cartouche, with shining eyes, “how good of your majesty to command me! for, otherwise, i never could have thought it anything but wrong to tie fifi to me for life. but one must obey the emperor.”
“yes,” cried fifi, quite forgetting herself in her joy, “one must obey the emperor.”
and then the emperor kissed fifi on the cheek, and pulled cartouche’s ear, saying to him:
“you mutinous rascal, you would disobey your emperor; but remember the sergeant and the file of soldiers are ready when mademoiselle fifi calls for them. so, good by, and good fortune to you both, and if anything befalls you, you know where to find your emperor.”
the empress gave fifi her hand to kiss and said, smiling:
“i shall not forget a little present for your wedding,” and fifi and cartouche went away, the two happiest creatures in paris.
fifi returned in the imperial carriage, and cartouche returned on the top of an omnibus, but each of them was in a heaven of his own.
fifi reached home first, and when cartouche arrived[pg 236] she was hard at work on a white bonnet for her wedding.
“cartouche,” she cried, as he opened the door, “there are a million things to be done if we are to be married a week from next thursday.”
“i know it,” answered cartouche, “and fifi—you need not send for the sergeant, i think.”
fifi threw herself into his arms. she was bubbling over with joy. cartouche’s saturnine face was more saturnine than ever. he kissed fifi solemnly, and broke away from her. it was too much joy for him.
the preparations for their wedding were simple enough, as became an insignificant actress and a poor actor, whose home was to be in two little rooms very high up; for fifi, having been bred under the tiles, declined to come down lower, in spite of her improved fortunes. they had a great many rehearsals at the theater, too, and cartouche, as stage manager, had lost none of his strictness, and ordered fifi about as peremptorily as if he were not to be married to her on thursday. fifi obeyed him very sweetly and had a new humility toward him.
all of their fellow actors showed them great [pg 237]good-will—even julie campionet, who behaved in the most beautiful manner, considering what provocation fifi had long given her. everybody connected with the theater gave them a little present—poor and cheap enough, but rich in kindness. even the old woman who lighted the theater brought fifi a couple of pink candles for a wedding present, and fifi thankfully accepted them.
two days before the wedding came three splendid presents—a fine shawl from the empress, a watch from the emperor and a purse from the holy father. fifi was charmed, and took up so much time at rehearsal in exhibiting these gorgeous gifts that she failed to answer her cue, and subjected herself to a fine, according to the rules of the theater, which cartouche rigorously exacted.
fifi worked so hard preparing for her wedding on the thursday morning, and her return to the stage on the thursday evening, that the hours flew as if on wings—and the day came almost before she knew it.
the morning was fair and bright as only may mornings can be fair and bright. fifi and cartouche, with duvernet and julie campionet, now completely reconciled with fifi for a short [pg 238]time, walked to the mairie and then to the parish church, and were married hard and fast. from thence they went to a cheap café to breakfast, and duvernet, in honor of the occasion, had a two-franc bouquet of violets on the table. all of the waiters knew that two of the party were bride and groom, but cartouche was so solemn and silent, and duvernet so gay and talkative, that everybody supposed duvernet the happy man and cartouche the disappointed suitor.
it was then time for the rehearsal, which lasted nearly all the rest of the day, cartouche being unusually strict. when the curtain went up in the evening never was there such an audience or so much money in the imperial theater. the best seats were put at the unprecedented price of two francs and a half, and duvernet gnashed his teeth that he had not made them three francs, so great was the crowd. the play was the famous classical one in which duvernet had worn the toga made of fifi’s white petticoat. this time he had a beautiful toga, bought at a sale of third and fourth-hand theatrical wardrobes, and it had been washed by julie campionet’s own hands.
everybody in the cast made a success. even [pg 239]cartouche as the wounded roman centurion of the pretorian guard, got several recalls, and he was no great things of an actor. duvernet covered himself with glory, but all paled before fifi’s triumph. never was there such a thunder of applause, such a tempest of curtain calls, such a storm of bravos. fifi palpitated with joy and pride.
when at last the performance was over, and cartouche and fifi came out of the theater into the dark street, under the quiet stars, fifi said, quite seriously:
“cartouche, my heart is troubled.”
“why, fifi?”
“because i am not half good enough for you. i am only fifi—you know what i mean. i am ashamed that i am not something more and better than merely fifi.”
and cartouche, who was usually the most matter-of-fact fellow alive, replied softly:
“as if a rose should be ashamed of being only a rose!”
