Mlle. Fouchette comes upon the scene as a poor, abused little creature of unknown parentage and nine years of age, daily sent out by a brutal pair, keepers of a low Parisian cabaret frequented by thieves, to hunt in the ash and garbage heaps for anything of value that may be found. At length, through trials, adventure, and romance, she approaches the coveted life of peace and love.
ent during the day, he was invariably delighted when the call of duty gave him this outing. And as he returned at all sorts of hours in the early morning, his frail partner and bedfellow never felt that it was necessary to sit up for him. Nevertheless, Fouchette was quite nervous, and sometimes sleepless, down there among the wine-bottles in the dark, on her pallet of straw, when she awoke to find her hairy protector missing; though, usually, she knew of his absence only by his return, when he licked her face affectionately before curling down closely as possible by her side.
Now, Monsieur Podvin's business, ostensibly, was that of keeping a low cabaret labelled "Rendez-Vous pour Cochers." It might have been more appropriately called a rendezvous for thieves, though this seems rather hypercritical when one knows the cabbies of the barriers. But the cabaret was really run by Madame Podvin, which robs monsieur of the moral responsibilities.
As a matter of fact, Monsieur Podvin was a mighty hunter,
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