This unexpected act of generosity put the lad in the best possible humor.  “All the better for me,” exclaimed he; “and now let us hunt up Caroline Schimmel.”

“Is she here?  I could not find her.”

“Because you did not know where to look for her.  She is at cards in the coffee-room.  Come along, sir.”

But Tantaine laid his hand upon the boy’s arm.

“One moment,” said he.  “Did you tell the woman just what I ordered you to say?”

“I did not omit a single word.”

“Tell me what you said, then.”

“For five days,” began the lad solemnly, “your Toto has been your Caroline’s shadow.  We have played cards until all sorts of hours, and I took care that she should always win.  I confided to her that I had a jolly old uncle,—­a man not without means, a widower, and crazy to be married again,—­who had seen her and had fallen in love with her.”

“Good! my lad, good! and what did she say?”

“Why, she grinned like half a dozen cats; only she is a bit artful, and I saw at once that she thought I was after her cards, but the mention of my uncle’s property soon chucked her off that idea.”

“Did you give my name?”

“Yes, at the end, I did.  I knew that she had seen you, and so I kept it back as long as I could; but as soon as I mentioned it she looked rather confused, and cried out:  ‘I know him quite well.’  So you see, sir, all you have now is to settle a day for the marriage.  Come on; she expects you.”

Toto was right.  The late domestic of the Duke de Champdoce was playing cards; but as soon as she caught sight of Toto and his pretended uncle, in spite of her holding an excellent hand, she threw up her cards, and received him with the utmost civility.  Toto looked on with delight.  Never had he seen the old rascal (as he inwardly called him in his heart) so polite, agreeable, and talkative.  It was easy to see that Caroline Schimmel was yielding to his fascinations, for she had never had such extravagant compliments whispered in her ear in so persuasive a tone.  But Tantaine did not confine his attentions to wine only:  he first ordered a bowl of punch, and then followed that up by a bottle of the best brandy.  All the old man’s lost youth seemed to have come back to him:  he sang, he drank, and he danced.  Toto watched them in utter surprise, as the old man whirled the clumsy figure of the woman round the room.

And he was rewarded for this tremendous exertion, for by ten o’clock she had consented, and Caroline left the Grand Turk on the arm of her future husband, having promised to take supper with him.

Next morning, when the scavengers came down from Montmartre to ply their matutinal avocations, they found the body of a woman lying on her face on the pavement.  They raised her up and carried her to an hospital.  She was not dead, as had been at first supposed; and when the unhappy creature came to her senses, she said that her name was Caroline Schimmel, that she had been to supper at a restaurant with her betrothed, and that from that instant she remembered nothing.  At her request, the surgeon had her conveyed to her home in the Rue Mercadet.