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 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.