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 street, he made for a pawnshop close by, with which he was well acquainted.

Just as he turned the corner of the street of the Black Cat, he almost ran into Duvernet's arms.

"Hey, Cartouche, you are the very man I want to see," cried the manager, buttonholing him. And then, noting that several persons on the street stopped and looked at him, Duvernet swelled out his chest and assumed an attitude in which he very much admired himself in his favorite part of the Roman senator.

Duvernet continued in a very impressive manner: "I contemplate both raising your salary, Cartouche, and also making you a little gift. You have worked hard for me; you got the Emperor to the theater, and business has been remarkably good ever since, and you have kept Julie Campionet from marrying me—so far, that is—and I feel the obligation, I assure you. So your salary after this will be twenty-five francs the week, and here are three ten-franc pieces which I beg you will accept."

With the air of a Roman emperor bestowing a province upon a faithful proconsul, Duvernet thrust the thirty francs into Cartouche's hand.