Arsene Lupin. Морис Леблан

manners of a wolf. Charolais went out of the room. Victoire hovered about him, pouring out his coffee and putting sugar into it.

      "By Jove, how good these eggs are!" he said. "I think that, of all the thousand ways of cooking eggs, en cocotte is the best."

      "Heavens! how empty I was!" he said presently. "What a meal I'm making! It's really a very healthy life, this of mine, Victoire. I feel much better already."

      "Oh, yes; it's all very well to talk," said Victoire, in a scolding tone; for since he was better, she felt, as a good woman should, that the time had come to put in a word out of season. "But, all the same, you're trying to kill yourself—that's what you're doing. Just because you're young you abuse your youth. It won't last for ever; and you'll be sorry you used it up before it's time. And this life of lies and thefts and of all kinds of improper things—I suppose it's going to begin all over again. It's no good your getting a lesson. It's just thrown away upon you."

      "What I want next is a bath," said Lupin.

      "It's all very well your pretending not to listen to me, when you know very well that I'm speaking for your good," she went on, raising her voice a little. "But I tell you that all this is going to end badly. To be a thief gives you no position in the world—no position at all—and when I think of what you made me do the night before last, I'm just horrified at myself."

      "We'd better not talk about that—the mess you made of it! It was positively excruciating!" said Lupin.

      "And what did you expect? I'm an honest woman, I am!" said Victoire sharply. "I wasn't brought up to do things like that, thank goodness! And to begin at my time of life!"

      "It's true, and I often ask myself how you bring yourself to stick to me," said Lupin, in a reflective, quite impersonal tone. "Please pour me out another cup of coffee."

      "That's what I'm always asking myself," said Victoire, pouring out the coffee. "I don't know—I give it up. I suppose it is because I'm fond of you."

      "Yes, and I'm very fond of you, my dear Victoire," said Lupin, in a coaxing tone.

      "And then, look you, there are things that there's no understanding. I often talked to your poor mother about them. Oh, your poor mother! Whatever would she have said to these goings-on?"

      Lupin helped himself to another cutlet; his eves twinkled and he said, "I'm not sure that she would have been very much surprised. I always told her that I was going to punish society for the way it had treated her. Do you think she would have been surprised?"

      "Oh, nothing you did would have surprised her," said Victoire. "When you were quite a little boy you were always making us wonder. You gave yourself such airs, and you had such nice manners of your own— altogether different from the other boys. And you were already a bad boy, when you were only seven years old, full of all kinds of tricks; and already you had begun to steal."

      "Oh, only sugar," protested Lupin.

      "Yes, you began by stealing sugar," said Victoire, in the severe tones of a moralist. "And then it was jam, and then it was pennies. Oh, it was all very well at that age—a little thief is pretty enough. But now—when you're twenty-eight years old."

      "Really, Victoire, you're absolutely depressing," said Lupin, yawning; and he helped himself to jam.

      "I know very well that you're all right at heart," said Victoire. "Of course you only rob the rich, and you've always been kind to the poor… . Yes; there's no doubt about it: you have a good heart."

      "I can't help it—what about it?" said Lupin, smiling.

      "Well, you ought to have different ideas in your head. Why are you a burglar?"

      "You ought to try it yourself, my dear Victoire," said Lupin gently; and he watched her with a humorous eye.

      "Goodness, what a thing to say!" cried Victoire.

      "I assure you, you ought," said Lupin, in a tone of thoughtful conviction. "I've tried everything. I've taken my degree in medicine and in law. I have been an actor, and a professor of Jiu-jitsu. I have even been a member of the detective force, like that wretched Guerchard. Oh, what a dirty world that is! Then I launched out into society. I have been a duke. Well, I give you my word that not one of these professions equals that of burglar—not even the profession of Duke. There is so much of the unexpected in it, Victoire—the splendid unexpected… . And then, it's full of variety, so terrible, so fascinating." His voice sank a little, and he added, "And what fun it is!"

      "Fun!" cried Victoire.

      "Yes … these rich men, these swells in their luxury—when one relieves them of a bank-note, how they do howl! … You should have seen that fat old Gournay-Martin when I relieved him of his treasures—what an agony! You almost heard the death-rattle in his throat. And then the coronet! In the derangement of their minds—and it was sheer derangement, mind you—already prepared at Charmerace, in the derangement of Guerchard, I had only to put out my hand and pluck the coronet. And the joy, the ineffable joy of enraging the police! To see Guerchard's furious eyes when I downed him… . And look round you!" He waved his hand round the luxurious room. "Duke of Charmerace! This trade leads to everything … to everything on condition that one sticks to it … .I tell you, Victoire, that when one cannot be a great artist or a great soldier, the only thing to be is a great thief!"

      "Oh, be quiet!" cried Victoire. "Don't talk like that. You're working yourself up; you're intoxicating yourself! And all that, it is not Catholic. Come, at your age, you ought to have one idea in your head which should drive out all these others, which should make you forget all these thefts… . Love … that would change you, I'm sure of it. That would make another man of you. You ought to marry."

      "Yes … perhaps … that would make another man of me. That's what I've been thinking. I believe you're right," said Lupin thoughtfully.

      "Is that true? Have you really been thinking of it?" cried Victoire joyfully.

      "Yes," said Lupin, smiling at her eagerness. "I have been thinking about it—seriously."

      "No more messing about—no more intrigues. But a real woman … a woman for life?" cried Victoire.

      "Yes," said Lupin softly; and his eyes were shining in a very grave face.

      "Is it serious—is it real love, dearie?" said Victoire. "What's she like?"

      "She's beautiful," said Lupin.

      "Oh, trust you for that. Is she a blonde or a brunette?"

      "She's very fair and delicate—like a princess in a fairy tale," said Lupin softly.

      "What is she? What does she do?" said Victoire.

      "Well, since you ask me, she's a thief," said Lupin with a mischievous smile.

      "Good Heavens!" cried Victoire.

      "But she's a very charming thief," said Lupin; and he rose smiling.

      He lighted a cigar, stretched himself and yawned: "She had ever so much more reason for stealing than ever I had," he said. "And she has always hated it like poison."

      "Well, that's something," said Victoire; and her blank and fallen face brightened a little.

      Lupin walked up and down the room, breathing out long luxurious puffs of smoke from his excellent cigar, and watching Victoire with a humorous eye. He walked across to his book-shelf, and scanned the titles of his books with an appreciative, almost affectionate smile.

      "This is a very pleasant interlude," he said languidly. "But I don't suppose it's going to last very long. As soon as Guerchard recovers from the shock of learning that I spent a quiet night in my ducal bed as an honest duke should, he'll be getting to work with positively furious energy, confound him! I could do with a whole day's sleep—twenty-four solid hours of it."

      "I'm sure you could, dearie," said Victoire sympathetically.

      "The girl I'm going to marry is Sonia Kritchnoff," he said.

      "Sonia? That dear child! But I love