g him a pretty speech, on the honor of an alliance with such
a family, and on the pleasures of brother-in-lawship in general, when,
looking in his face--ye gods! he saw the very man who had been filing at
his money-chest a few nights ago! By his side, too, sat a couple more of
the gang. The poor fellow turned deadly pale and sick, and, setting
his glass down, ran quickly out of the room, for he thought he was in
company of a whole gang of robbers. And when he got home, he wrote a
letter to the elder Cartouche, humbly declining any connection with his
family.

Cartouche the elder, of course, angrily asked the reason of such an
abrupt dissolution of the engagement; and then, much to his horror,
heard of his eldest son's doings. "You would not have me marry into
such a family?" said the ex-bridegroom. And old Cartouche, an honest old
citizen, confessed, with a heavy heart, that he would not. What was he
to do with the lad? He did not like to ask for a lettre de cachet,
and shut him up in the Bastile. He determined to give him a year's
discipline at the monastery of St. Lazare.

But how to catch the young gentleman? Old Cartouche knew that, were
he to tell his son of the scheme, the latter would never obey, and,
therefore, he determined to be very cunning. He told Dominic that he
was about to make a heavy bargain with the fathers, and should require
a witness; so they stepped into a carriage together, and drove
unsuspectingly to the Rue St. Denis. But, when they arrived near the
convent, Cartouche saw several ominous figures gathering round the
coach, and felt that his doom was sealed. However, he made as if he knew
nothing of the conspiracy; and the carriage drew up, and his father,
descended, and, bidding him wait for a minute in the coach, promised to
return to him. Cartouche looked out; on the other side of the way half a
dozen men were posted, evidently with the intention of arresting him.

Cartouche now performed a great and celebrated stroke of genius, which,
if he had not been professionally employed in the morning, he never
could have executed. He had in his pocket a piece of linen, which he had
laid hold of at the door of some shop, and from which he quickly tore
three suitable stripes. One he tied round his head, after the fashion of
a nightcap; a second round his waist, like an apron; and with the third
he covered his hat, a round one, with a large brim. His coat and his
periwig lie left behind him in the carr