ys 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