“Because Julie Campionet can no more act than a broomstick, and--” “You are mistaken. It is because Duvernet saw that Julie was going the way of his three former leading ladies. They have each, in turn, succeeded in marrying him, and there are three divorce cases at present against Duvernet, and he does not know which one of these leading ex-ladies he is married to, or if he is married at all; and here is Julie Campionet out for him with a net and a lantern. So Duvernet told me he must have a leading lady who didn’t want to marry him, and I said: ‘Promote Fifi. She doesn’t know much yet, but she can learn.’” “Is it thus you speak of my art?” cried Fifi, who, since her elevation, sometimes assumed a very grand diction, as well as an air she considered highly imposing. “It is thus I speak of your art,” replied Cartouche grimly--which caused Fifi’s pale, pretty cheeks to color, and made her shift her ground as she said, crossly: “Everybody knows you lead Duvernet around by the nose.” “Who is ‘everybody’?” “Why, that hateful Julie Campionet, and myself, and--and--” “It is the first thing I ever knew you and Julie Campionet to agree on yet--that the two of you are ‘everybody’. But mind what I say--no flirtations. Duvernet beats his wives, you know; and you come of people who don’t beat their wives, although you are only a little third-rate actress at a fourth-rate theater.” Fifi’s eyes blazed up angrily at this, but it did not disturb Cartouche in the least. “And you couldn’t stand blows from a husband,” Cartouche continued, “and that’s what the women in Duvernet’s class expect. Look you. My father was an honest man, and a good shoemaker, and kind to my mother, God bless her. But sometimes he got in drink and then he gave my mother a whack occasionally. Did she mind it? Not a bit, but gave him back as good as he sent; and when my father got sober, it was all comfortably made up between them. But that is not the way with people of your sort--because you are not named Chiaramonti for nothing.” “It seems as if I were named Chiaramonti for nothing, if I am, as you say, only a little third-rate actress at a fourth-rate theater,” replied Fifi, sulkily. To this Cartouche answered only: “At all events, there’s no question of marrying for you, Fifi, unless you marry a gentleman, and there is about as much chance of that, as that pigs will learn to fly.” “So, I am to have neither lover nor husband, no flirtations, no attachments--” Fifi turned an angry, charming face on Cartouche. “Exactly.” “Cartouche,” said Fifi, after a pause, and examining Cartouche’s brawny figure, “I wish you were not so big--nor so overbearing.” “I dare say you wish it was my arm instead of my leg that is stiff,” said Cartouche. He moved his right leg as he spoke, so as to show the stiffness of the knee-joint. Otherwise he was a well-made man. He continued, with a grin: