813 by Maurice Leblanc - Arsène Lupin's Three Murders 16

None

Episode Transcript

Speaker 1 (00:00):
Chapter sixteen of eight thirteen eight thirteen by Maurice le Blanc.
Chapter sixteen arsen Nupegne's Three Murders. A cyclone passed through
Lupegne's brain, a hurricane in which roars of thunder, gusts
of wind, squalls, of all the distraught elements were tumultuously

(00:22):
unchained in the chaotic night, and great flashes of lightning
shot through the darkness. And by the dazzling gleam of
those lightning flashes, leu Pegne, scared, shaken with thrills, convulsed
with horror, saw and tried to understand. He did not move,
clinging to the enemy's throat, as if his stiffened fingers

(00:42):
were no longer able to release their grip. Besides, although
he now knew he had not so to speak, the
exact feeling that it was dolorous, it was still the
man in black, Luis de Malreech, the foul brute of
the darkness, and that brute he held and did not
mean to let go. But the truth rushed upon the
attack of his mind and of his consciousness, and conquered,

(01:05):
tortured with anguish, he muttered, oh lorus delors He at
once saw the excuse. It was madness. She was mad.
The sister of Altenheim and Azilda, the daughter of the
last of the Malreifs, of the demented, mother of the
drunken father, was herself mad, a strange mad woman, mad

(01:28):
with every appearance of sanity, but mad nevertheless, unbalanced, brainsick, unnatural,
truly monstrous. That he most certainly understood it was homicidal madness,
under the obsession of an object toward which he was
drawn automatically, she killed, thirsting for blood, unconsciously, infernally. She

(01:51):
killed because she wanted something. She killed in self defense,
She killed because she had killed before. But she killed also,
and especially for the sake of killing, murder, satisfied, sudden
and irresistible appetites that arose in her at certain seconds
in her life, in certain circumstances, face to face with
this or that being who had suddenly become the foe,

(02:12):
her arm had to strike, and she struck, drunk with rage, ferociously, frenziedly,
a strange madwoman, not answerable for her murders, and yet
so lucid in her blindness, so logical in her mental derangement,
so intelligent in her absurdity, what skill, what perseverance, what

(02:33):
cunning contrivances, at once abominable and admirable, And Lupayne, in
a rapid view, with prodigious keenness of outlook, saw the
long array of bloodthirsty adventures, and guessed the mysterious paths
which Dolores had pursued. He saw her obsessed and possessed
by her husband's scheme, a scheme which she evidently understood

(02:54):
only in part. He saw her on her side looking
for that same pierelu Dict whom her husband was seeking,
looking for him in order to marry him and to
return as queen to that little realm of Valdens, from
which her parents had been ignominiously driven. And he saw
her at the palace hotel, in the room of her
brother Altenheim, at the time when she was supposed to

(03:14):
be at Monte Carlo. He saw her for days together,
spying upon her husband, creeping along the walls, one with
the darkness, undistinguishable and unseen in her shadowy disguise. And
one night she found mister Kesselbach fastened up, and she
stabbed him. And in the morning, when on the point
of being denounced by the floor waiter, she stabbed him,

(03:38):
and an hour later, when on the point of being
denounced by Chapman, she dragged him to her brother's room
and stabbed him. All this pitilessly, savagely, with diabolical skill.
And with the same skill she communicated by telephone with
her two maids, Gertrude and Suzanne, both of whom had
arrived from Monte Carlo. Were one of the had enacted

(04:00):
the part of her mistress, and Dolores, resuming her feminine attire,
discarding the fair wig that altered her appearance beyond recognition,
went down to the ground floor, joined Gertrud at the
moment when the maid entered the hotel, and pretended herself
to have just arrived, all ignorant of the tragedy that
awaited her. An incomparable actress, she played the part of

(04:20):
the wife whose life is shattered. Every One pitied her,
every one wept for her. Who could have suspected her?
And then came the war with him Lupey, that barbarous contest,
that unparalleled contest which she waged by turns against Monsieur
Lenormand and Prince Sernine, spending her days stretched on her
sofa ill and fainting, but her nights on foot, scouring

(04:43):
the roads, indefatigable and terrible, and the diabolical contrivances Gertrude
and Suzanne frightened and subdued, accomplices, both of them serving
her as emissaries, disguising themselves to represent her, Perhaps as
on the day when old Steinweg was carried off by
Baron Altenheim, in the mids of the Palladistis and the
series of murders, Gorel drowned Altenheim, her brother stabbed. Oh,

(05:07):
the implacable struggle in the underground passages of the Villa
de gli Sinne, the invisible work performed by the monster
in the dark, how clear it all appeared to day.
And it was she who tore off his mask as
Prince Surnine, she who betrayed him to the police, She
who sent him to prison, She who thwarted all his plans,
spending her millions to win the battle. And then events

(05:29):
followed faster. Suzanne Jaltrude disappeared dead, no doubt, Steinweg assassinated, Isilda,
the sister assassinated. Oh. The ignominy, the horror of it
stammered Dupayne, with a start of revulsion and hatred. He

(05:50):
execrated her, the abominable creature. He would have liked to
crush her, to destroy her. And it was a stupefying sight,
those two beings clinging to each other, lying motionless in
the pale dawn that began to mingle with the shades
of the night. To loorus delorus, he muttered in despair.

(06:10):
He leaped back, terror stricken, wild eyed. What was it?
What was that? What was that hideous feeling of cold
which froze his hands? Octave octave? He shouted, forgetting that
the chauffein was not there. Help. He needed help, someone
to reassure him and assist him. He shivered with fright.

(06:31):
Oh that coldness, that coldness of death, which he had felt.
Was it possible? Then? During those few tragic minutes, with
his clenched fingers, he had violently he forced himself to look.
Dolores did not stir. He flung himself on his knees
and drew her to him. She was dead. He remained

(06:55):
for some seconds, a prey to a sort of numbness
in which his grief seemed to be swallowed up. He
no longer suffered, He no longer felt rage, nor hatred,
nor emotion of any kind, nothing but a stupid prostration,
the sensation of a man who has received a blow
with a club, and who does not know if he
is still alive, if he is thinking, or if he
is the sport of a nightmare. Nevertheless, it seemed to

(07:19):
him that an act of justice had taken place, and
it did not for a second occur to him that
it was he who had taken life. No, it was
not he. It was outside him and his will. It
was destiny, innsurable, destiny that had accomplished the work of
equity by slaying the noxious beast. Outside, the birds were singing,
life was recommencing under the old trees which the spring

(07:42):
was preparing to bring into bud and du Pay, waking
from his torpor, felt gradually welling up within him an
indefinable and ridiculous compassion for the wretched woman, odious, certainly
abject and twenty times criminal, but so young still and
now dead. And he thought of the tortures which she
must have undergone in her lucid moments. When reason returned

(08:04):
to the unspeakable madwoman, and brought the sinister vision of
her deeds. Protect me, I am so unhappy, she used
to beg It was against herself that she asked to
be protected, against her wild beast instincts, against the monster
that dwelt within her and forced her to kill, always,
to kill always, Lupey asked himself, and he remembered the

(08:30):
night two days since, when standing over him with her
dagger raised against the enemy who had been harassing her
for months, against the indefatigable enemy who had run her
to earth after each of her crimes. He remembered that
on that night she had not killed. And yet it
would have been easy. The enemy lay lifeless and powerless.
One blow in the implacable struggle was over. No, she

(08:53):
had not killed. She too had given way to feeling
stronger than her own cruelty, to mysterious feelings of pity,
of sympathy, of admiration for the man who had so
often mastered her. No, she had not killed that time,
and now, by a really terrifying vicissitude of fate, it
was he who had killed her. I have taken life,

(09:16):
he thought, shuddering from head to foot. These hands have
killed a living being, and that creature is Dolores Delorus, Dolorus.
He never ceased repeating her name, her name of sorrow,
and he never ceased staring at her, a sad, lifeless thing,

(09:36):
harmless now, a poor hunk of flesh, with no more
consciousness than a little heap of withered leaves or a
little dead bird by the roadside. How could he do
other than quiver with compassion, seeing that of those two,
face to face, he was the murderer, and she, who
was no more the victim Delorus, Delores Dolorous. The daylight

(10:04):
found Lupey seated beside the dead woman, remembering and thinking,
while his lips, from time to time uttered the disconsolate
syllables Dolores, Dolores. He had to act, however, and in
the disorder of his ideas, he did not know how
to act, nor with what act to begin. I must

(10:25):
close her eyes first, he said, the eyes all empty,
filled only with death. Those beautiful gold spangled eyes had
still the melancholy softness that gave them their charm. Was
it possible that those eyes were the eyes of a monster.
In spite of himself and in the face of the
implacable reality, Lupeye was not yet able to blend into

(10:46):
one single being, those two creatures whose images remained so
distinct at the back of his brain. He stooped, swiftly,
lowered the long, silky eyelids, and covered the poor, distorted
face with a veil that it seemed to him that
Dolores was farther away, and that the man in black
was really there, this time in his dark clothes, in
his murderer's disguise. He now ventured to touch her, to feel

(11:11):
in her clothes. In an inside pocket, there were two
pocket books. He took one of them and opened it.
He found first a letter signed by Steinweg, the old German.
It contained the following lines, should I die before being
able to reveal the terrible secret, let it be known
that the murderer of my friend Kesselbach, whose real name

(11:31):
is Dolores de Malreich, sister to Altnheim and sister to Wizilda.
The initials L and M relate to her. Kesselbach never
in their private life called his wife Dolores, which is
the name of sorrow, but Letitia, which denotes joy l M.
Letitia de Manraech were the initials inscribed on all the

(11:52):
presents which he used to give her. For instance, on
the cigarette case which was found at the Palace hotel,
and which belonged to missus Kesselbach. She had contracted the
smoking habit on her travels. Letitia, she was indeed the
joy of his life for four years, four years of
lies and hypocrisy, in which she prepared the death of
the man who loved her so well and who trusted

(12:13):
her soul wholeheartedly. Perhaps I ought to have spoken at once,
I had not the courage in memory of my old
friend Kesselbach, whose name she bore. Then I was afraid
on the day when I unmastered her at the Peleegi justice,
I read my doom in her eyes. Will my weakness
save me? Him? Also thought lupe him? Also she killed? Why?

(12:37):
Of course he knew too much the initials that name Letitia,
the secret habit of smoking, and he remembered the previous
night that smell of tobacco in her room. He continued
his inspection of the first pocket book. There were scraps
of letters in cypher, no doubt handed to Dolores by
her accomplices in the course of their nocturnal meetings. There

(12:58):
were also addresses on bits of paper, addresses of milliners
and dressmakers, but addresses also of low haunts, of common hotels,
and names twenty thirty names, queer names, Hector the butcher,
armand Grenelle the sick Man. But a photograph caught Lupey's eye.
He looked at it and at once, as though shot

(13:19):
from a spring. Dropping the pocket book, he bolted out
of the room, out of the chalais, and rushed into
the park. He had recognized the portrait of Louis de Manreech,
the prisoner at the Sante. Not till then, not till
that exact moment, did he remember the execution was to
take place next day. And as the man in black,

(13:40):
as the murderer, was none other than Dolores Kesselbach. Louis
de Malreich's name was really and truly Leon Massier, and
he was innocent, innocent, But the evidence found in his house,
the Emperor's letters, all all the things that accused him,
beyond hope of denial, all those incontrovertible proofs. Dupay stopped

(14:02):
for a second, with his brain on fire. Oh, he cried,
I shall go mad, I do come now, I must act.
The sentence is to be executed to morrow. To morrow
at break of day, he looked at his watch ten o'clock.

(14:22):
How long will it take me to reach Paris? Well,
I shall be there presently, Yes, presently I must, and
this very evening I shall take measures to prevent. But
what measures? How can I prove his innocence? How prevent
the execution? Oh? Never mind? Once I am there, I
shall find a way. My name is not to pay

(14:42):
for nothing. Come on? He set off again at a run,
entered the castle and called out, Pierre, Pierre, has any
one seen Monsieur pier le duc. Oh, there you are. Listen.
He took him on one side and jerked out in
imperious tones. Listen, del Horus is not here. Yes, she
was called away on urgent business. She left last night

(15:04):
in my motor. I'm going to don't interrupt. Not a word.
A second lost means irreparable harm. You send away all
the servants without any explanation. Here is money. In half
an hour from now, the castle must be empty, and
let no one enter it until I return. Not you either.
Do you understand I forbid you to enter the castle.
I'll explain later. Serious reasons here. Take the key with

(15:26):
you wait for me in the village, and once more
he darted away. Five minutes later he was with Octave.
He jumped into the car Paris. The journey was a
real race for life or death. Lupayne, thinking that Octave
was not driving fast enough, took the steering wheel himself
and drove at a furious breakneck speed on the road

(15:49):
through the villages. Along the crowded streets of the towns,
they rushed at sixty miles an hour, people whom they
nearly upset, roared and yelled with rage. The meteor was
far away, was out of sight. Guv'nor, stammered Octave, livid
with dismay, we shall be stuck you perhaps the motor perhaps,

(16:10):
But I shall arrive, said Pey. He had a feeling
as though it were not the car that was carrying him,
but he carrying the car, and as though he were
cleaving space by dint of his own strength, his own
will power. Then what miracle could prevent his arriving, Seeing
that his strength was inexhaustible, his will power unbounded. I

(16:30):
shall arrive, because I have got to arrive, he repeated,
And he thought of the man who would die if
he did not arrive in time to save him of
the mysterious Louis de Malreich, so disconcerting with his stubborn
silence and his expressionless face. And amid the roar of
the road, under the trees whose branches made a noise
as of furious waves, amid the buzzing of his thoughts,

(16:52):
Lupey all the same strove to set up a hypothesis.
And this hypothesis became gradually more defined, logical, probable. Certain,
he said to himself, now that he knew the hideous
truth about Dolores, and saw all the resources and all
the odious designs of that crazy mind. Yes, it was
she who contrived that most terrible plot against Marach. What

(17:15):
was it she wanted to marry Pierre u Dic, whom
she had bewitched, and to become the sovereign of the
little principality from which she had been banished. The object
was attainable within reach of her hand. Who was one
sole obstacle, I Lupage, who for weeks and weeks persistently
barred her road, I whom she encountered after every murder,

(17:37):
I whose perspicacity she dreaded, I who would never lay
down my arms before I had discovered the culprit and
found the letters stolen from the Emperor. Well, the culprit
should be Luis de Marraich, or rather Leon Massier. Who
was this Leon Massier? Did she know him before her marriage?
Had she been in love with him? It is probable,

(17:59):
but this no doubt, we shall never know. One thing
is certain that she was struck by the resemblance to
Leon Massier in figure and stature, which she might attain
by dressing up like him in black clothes and putting
on a fair wig. She must have noticed the eccentric
life led by that lonely man, his nocturnal expeditions, his
manner of walking in the streets, and of throwing any

(18:19):
who might follow him off the scent. And it was
in consequence of these observations, and in anticipation of possible eventualities,
that she advised mister Kesselbach to erase the name of
Dolores from the register of births and replace it by
the name of Louis, so that the initials might correspond
with those of Leon Massier. The moment arrived at which
she must act, and thereupon she concocted her plot and

(18:42):
proceeded to put it into execution. Leon lived in the
Rue de les Man. She ordered her accomplices to take
up their quarters in the street that backed on to it,
and she herself told me the address of Dominic, the
head waiter, and put me on the track of the
seven scoundrels, knowing perfectly well that once on the track,
I was bound to follow it to the end, that

(19:02):
is to say, beyond the seven scoundrels, till I came
up with their leader, the man who watched them and
who commanded them, the man in black, Leon Massier, Louis
de Malraich. As a matter of fact, I came up
with the seven scoundrels first. Then what would happen? Either
I should be beaten or we should all destroy one another,

(19:23):
as she must have hoped that night in the Rue
de Ving. In either case, Dolores would have been rid
of me. But what really happened was this, I captured
the seven scoundrels. Dolores fled from the Rue de Ving.
I found her in the broker's shed. She sent me
after Leon Massier, that is to say, Louis de Malraich.
I found in his house the Emperor's letters which she

(19:43):
herself had placed there, and I delivered him to justice,
and I revealed the secret communication which she herself had
cause to be made between the two coach houses. And
I produced all the evidence which she herself had prepared,
and I proved, by means of documents which she herself
had forged, that Leon Massier had stolen the social status

(20:04):
of Leon Massier, and that his real name was Louis
de Malriye. And Louis de Marie was sentenced to death,
and Dolores de Malraich victorious at last, save from all
suspicion once the culprit was discovered. Released from her infamous
and criminal past, her husband dead, her brother dead, her
sister dead, her two maids dead, Steinweg dead, delivered by

(20:26):
me from her accomplices, whom I handed over to Weber,
all packed up, delivered lastly from herself by me, who
was sending the innocent man whom she had substituted for
herself to the scaffold. Dolores de Malaich, triumphant, rich with
the wealth of her millions, and loved by Pierre lu
Duc Dolores de MALRII would sit upon the throne of
her native grand Duchy cried, lupeye beside himself with excitement,

(20:53):
that man shall not die. I swear it as I live,
he shall not die. Look out, Governor, said octav scared.
We are near the town now, the outskirts the suburbs.
What shall I care? But we shall topple over and
the pavement is greasy. We are skidding. Never mind, take care,

(21:19):
look ahead, what a tram car at the turn? Let
it stop? Do slow down, Governor, never, but we have
no room to pass. We shall get through. We can't
get through, Yes we can, Oh Lord. A crash outcries.

(21:39):
The motor had run into the tram car, cannoned against
a fence, torn down ten yards of planking, and lastly
smashed itself against the corner of a slope. Driver, Are
you disengaged? Dupay, lying flat on the grass of the slope,
had hailed a taxi cab. He scrambled to his feet,
gave a glance at his shattered car, and the people
crowded round to Uptow's assistance, and jumped into the cab.

(22:03):
Go to the Ministry of the Interior on the place, Bovoux,
twenty francs for yourself. He settled himself in the cab
and continued, no, no, he shall not die. No, a
thousand times no, I will not have that on my conscience.
It is bad enough to have been tricked by a
woman and to have fallen into the snare like a schoolboy.
That will do no more blunders for me. I have

(22:25):
had that poor wretch arrested. I have had him sentenced
to death. I have brought him to the foot of
the scaffold. But he shall not mount it. Anything but that.
If he mounts the scaffold, there will be nothing left
for me but to put a bullet through my head.
They were approaching the tall house. He leaned out, twenty francs.
More driver, if you don't stop, and he shouted to

(22:47):
the officials detective service. They passed through, but don't slow down,
don't slow down. Hang, it roared Lupeye. Faster, faster still
are you afraid of running over with the old ladies?
Never mind about them, I'll pay the damage in a
few minutes. They were at the Ministry of the Interior.
Lupey hurried across the courtyard and ran up the main staircase.

(23:10):
The waiting room was full of people. He scribbled on
a sheet of paper. Prince surnin and hustling a messenger
into a corner. He said, you know me, don't you.
I'm new Pey. I've procured you this berth, a snug
retreat for your old age. Eh. Only you've got to
show me in at once there, take my name through.
That's all I ask of you. The Premier will thank you.
You may be sure of that, and so I will.

(23:33):
But hurry, you fool. Valoneles is expecting me. Ten seconds later,
Valoneles himself put his head through the door of his
room and said, show the Prince in. Lupey rushed into
the room, slammed the door and interrupting the Premier said, no,
no such phrases. You can't arrest me. It would mean
ruining yourself and compromising the Emperor. No, it's not a

(23:54):
question of that. Look here, malrak is innocent. I've discovered
the real criminal. It's Dolores Cassele. She is dead. Her
body is down there. I have undeniable proofs. There is
no doubt possible it was she. He stopped. Vaalangles seemed
not to understand. But look here, Monsieur President, we must
save Malraych. Only think a judicial error, an innocent man guillotine,

(24:20):
give your orders, say you have fresh information, anything you please,
but quick, there is no time to lose. Valangles looked
at him attentively, then went to a table, took up
a newspaper and handed it to him, pointing his finger
at an article as he did so, Dupay cast his
eye at the headline and read execution of the monster

(24:42):
Luis de Malray underwent the death penalty this morning, he
read no more. Thunderstruck, crushed. He fell into the Premier's
chair with a moan of despair. How long he remained
like that he could not say. When he was outside again,
he remembered great silence, and then Valangles bending over him

(25:02):
and sprinkling water on his forehead. He remembered above all
the Premier's hushed voice, whispering, listen, you won't say anything
about this, will you? Innocent? Perhaps I don't say no.
But what is the use of revelations of a scandal?
A judicial error can have serious consequences. Is it worth
while a rehabilitation? For what purpose? He was not even

(25:27):
sentenced under his own name. It is the name of
my life which is held up to public execration. The
name of the real criminal, as it happens, so, and
pushing the pay gradually toward the door, he said, so,
go go back there, get rid of the corpse, and
let not a trace remain, eh not, the slightest trace
of all this business. I can rely on you can

(25:48):
I not? And Lupeye went back. He went back like
a machine, because he had been told to do so,
and because he had no will left of his own.
He waited for hours at the railway station. Mechanically, he
ate his dinner, took a ticket, and settled down in
a compartment. He slept badly. His brain was on fire,

(26:09):
between nightmares and half waking intervals in which he tried
to make out why Malrai had not defended himself. He
was a madman, surely half a madman. He must have
known her formerly, and she poisoned his life. She drove
him crazy, so he felt he might as well die.
Why defend himself? The explanation only half satisfied him, and

(26:31):
he promised himself sooner or later to clear up the
riddle and to discover the exact part which Marsier had
played in Dolores's life. But what did it matter? For
the moment one fact alone stood out clearly, which was
Massier's madness, and he repeated persistently he was a madman.
Massier was undoubtedly mad. Besides all those Massiers a family

(26:53):
of madmen. He raved, mixing up names in his enfeebled brain.
But on a lighting at Blugen's station in the cool,
moist air of the morning, his consciousness revived. Things suddenly
assumed a different aspect, and he exclaimed, well, after all,
it was his own look out. He had only to protest.
I accept no responsibility. It was he who committed suicide.

(27:16):
He was only a dumb actor in the play he
has gone under. I am sorry, but it can't be helped.
The necessity for action stimulated him afresh, wounded, tortured by
that crime of which he knew himself to be the author.
For all that he might say, he nevertheless looked to
the future. Those are the accidents of war, he said.

(27:37):
Don't let us think about it. Nothing is lost. On
the contrary, Dolores was the stumbling block. Since pierlou dup
loved her. Dolores is dead. Therefore pierlou Duc belongs to me,
and he shall marry Genvieve as I have arranged, and
he shall reign, and I shall be the master, and Europe,
Europe is mine. He worked himself up, reassured, full of

(27:59):
such in confidence, and made feverish gestures as he walked
along the road, whirling an imaginary sword, the sword of
the leader whose will is law, who commands and triumphs Lupee,
you shall be king. You shall be king, ah, said Lupe.
He inquired in the village of Brigen and heard that
pierlou Diuc had lunched yesterday at the inn. Since then

(28:20):
he had not been seen, Oh, asked Loupee. Didn't he
sleep here? No? But where did he go? After his lunch?
He took the road to the castle. Lupeye walked away
in some surprise. After all, he had told the young
man to lock the doors and not to return after
the servants had gone. He at once received a proof

(28:40):
that Pierre had disobeyed him. The park gates were open.
He went in, hunted all over the castle, called out
no reply. Suddenly he thought of the chalais, who could tell.
Perhaps pierlu Diuc, worrying about the woman he loved, and
driven by an intuition, had gone to look for her
in that direction and a look. Loloris's corpse was there.

(29:02):
Greatly alarmed, Lupeyn began to run. At first sight, there
seemed to be no one in the Chalais Pierre Pierre,
he cried, hearing no sound. He entered the front passage
and the room which he had occupied. He stopped short,
rude to the threshold above Dolores's corpse, hung Pioleduc with

(29:22):
a rope round his neck, dead, Lupey impatiently pulled himself
together from head to foot. He refused to yield to
a single gesture of despair. He refused to utter a
single violent word. After the cruel blows which fate had
dealt him, after Dolores's crimes and death, after Massier's execution,

(29:43):
after all those disturbances and catastrophes, he felt the absolute
necessity of retaining all his self command. If not, his
brain would undoubtedly give way. Idiot, he said, shaking his
fist at Pierlo dic you great idiot. Couldn't you wait?
In ten years we should have had Alsace Loreen again

(30:04):
to relieve his mind. He sought for words to say,
for attitudes, but his ideas escaped him, and his head
seemed on the point of bursting. Oh no, no, he cried,
none of that. Thank you. You pay mad too, ha No,
old chap, put a bullet through your head if you like.
And when all is said, I don't see any other
way out, but you pay. Driveling wheeled about in a

(30:25):
bath chair, no style, old fellow, finish in style. He
walked up and down, stamping his feet and lifting his
knees very high, as certain actors do when feigning madness.
And he said, swagger, my lad, swagger. The eyes of
the gods are upon you. Lift up your head, pull
in your stomach, hang it, throw out your chest. Everything

(30:46):
is breaking up around you. What do you care? It's
the final disaster. I've played my last card. A kingdom
in the gutter, I've lost Europe. The whole world ends
in smoke. Well, and what of it? Laugh? Laugh, be
lu pay or you're in the soup. Come laugh louder
than that, louder louder. That's right, lord, how funny it

(31:10):
all is? Dolorous, old girl a cigarette. He bent down
with a grin, touched the dead woman's face, tottered for
a second, and fell to the ground unconscious. After lying
for an hour, he came to himself and stood up.
The fit of madness was over, and master of himself,
with relapsed nerves. Serious and silent, he considered the position.

(31:34):
He felt that the time had come for the irrevocable
decisions that involve the whole existence. His had been utterly
shattered in a few days under the assault of unforeseen catastrophes,
rushing up one after the other. At the very moment
when he thought his triumph assured, what should he do
begin again, build up everything again? He had not the
courage for it. What then? The whole morning he roamed

(31:59):
tragic about the park and gradually realized his position in
all its slightest details. Little by little, the thought of
death had forced itself upon him with inflexible rigor. But
whether he decided to kill himself or to live, there
was first of all a series of definite acts which
he was obliged to perform. And these acts stood out
clearly in his brain, which had suddenly become quite cool.

(32:22):
The mid day, and jealous rang from the church steeple
to work, he said firmly. He returned to the chelen
a very calm frame of mind, went to his room,
climbed on a stool and cut the rope by which
Paoluduc was hanging. Poor devil, he said, you were doomed
to end like that, with a hemp and tie around
your neck, alas you were not made for greatness. I

(32:44):
ought to have foreseen that and not hooked my fortune
to a rhymster. He felt in the young man's clothes
and found nothing, But remembering Dolores's second pocket book, he
took it from the pocket where he had left it.
He gave a start of surprise. The pocket book contained
a bundle of letters whose appearance was familiar to him,
and he at once recognized the different writings, the emperorse letters.

(33:09):
He muttered slowly, the old Chancellor's letters, the whole bundle,
which I myself found at Leon Massier's, and which I
handed to Count van Valdemar. How did it happen? Did
she take them in her turn from that blockhead of
a Voldemar and suddenly slapping his forehead? Why no, the
blockhead is myself. These are the real letters. She kept

(33:31):
them to blackmail the Emperor when the time came. And
the others, the ones which I handed over, are copies
forged by herself of course, or by an accomplice, and
placed where she knew that I should find them. And
I played her game for her like a mug I
jove when women begin to interfere. There was only a
piece of pasteboard left in the pocket book, a photograph.

(33:55):
He looked at it. It was his own, two photographs,
Marsier and I, the two she loved best, no doubt,
for she loved me, a strange love built up of
admiration for the adventure that I am, for the man
who by himself put away the seven scoundrels whom she
had paid to break my head, A strange love. I

(34:17):
felt it throbbing in her the other day when I
told her my great dream of omnipotence. Then really she
had the idea of sacrificing pierlu Dic and subjecting her
dream to mine. If the incident of the mirror had
not taken place, she would have been subdued. But she
was afraid. I had my hand upon the truth. My
death was necessary for her salvation, and she decided upon it,

(34:40):
he repeated several times, pensively. And yet she loved me, Yes,
she loved me as others have loved me. Others to
whom I have brought ill luck. Also, alas all those
who love me die, and this one died too, strangled
by my hand. What is the use of living? What

(35:00):
is the use of living? He asked again, in a
low voice. Is it not better to join them, all
those women who have loved me and who have died
of their love? Sonia Raymond, Clotilde Destange, Miss Clark. He
laid the two corpses beside each other, covered them with

(35:21):
the same sheet, sat down at a table and wrote,
I have triumphed over everything, and I am beaten. I
have reached the goal, and I have fallen. Fate is
too strong for me, and she whom I love is
no more. I shall die also, and he signed his
name asend Lepe. He sealed the letter and slipped it

(35:43):
into a bottle, which he flung through the window on
the soft ground of a flower boarder. Next, he made
a great pile on the floor with old newspapers, straw
and shavings, which he went to fetch in the kitchen.
On the top of it he emptied a gallon of petrol.
Then he lit a candle and threw it among the
shaving a flame at once arose, and other flames leapt forth,

(36:04):
quick glowing, crackling. Let's clear out, said Loupey. The chalai
is built of wood, and it will all flare up
like a match. And by the time they come from
the village, break down the gates and run to this
end of the park, it will be too late. They
will find ashes the remains of two charred corpses, and
close at hand my farewell letter in a bottle, good Bye, Lupey,

(36:26):
bury me simply good people, without superfluous state. A poor
man's funeral, No flowers, no wreaths, just a humble cross
and a plain epitaph. Here lies a sen Lupey adventurer.
He made for the park wall, climbed over it, and
turning round, saw the flames soaring up to the sky.

(36:46):
He wandered back toward Paris on foot, bowed down by destiny,
with despair in his heart. And the peasants were amazed
at the sight of this traveler, who paid with bank
notes for his fifteen penny meals. Three foot pads attacked
him one evening in the fo He defended himself with
his stick and left them lying for dead. He spent
a week at an inn. He did not know where

(37:06):
to go. What was he to do, what was there
for him to do? What was there for him to
cling to? He was tired of life. He did not
want to live? Is that you? Madame l Nemoux stood
in her little sitting room in the villa at Guerche, trembling,
scared and livid, staring at the apparition that faced her. Lupeye,

(37:28):
it was lupeye you, she said, you, but the papers said,
He smiled sadly, Yes, I am dead. Well, then she said, naively,
you mean that if I am dead, I have no
business here. Believe me, I have serious reasons. VITOI how

(37:49):
you have changed, she said, in a voice full of pity.
A few little disappointments, however, that's sober. Tell me is genevievin?
She flew at him in a sudden rage. You leave
her alone, do you hear? Sheenvieve? You went to see
Chenvieve to take her back. Ah, this time I shall
not let her out of my sight. She came back tired,

(38:11):
white as a sheet, nervous, and the color has hardly
yet returned to her cheeks. You shall leave her alone,
I swear you shall. He pressed his hand hard on
the old woman's shoulder. I will do you understand, I
will speak to her. No, I mean to speak to her. No.

(38:33):
He pushed her about. She drew herself up and crossing
her arms. You shall pass over my dead body first.
Do you hear? The child's happiness lies in this house
and nowhere else. With all your ideas of money and rank,
you would only make her miserable. Who is this Pierre
lu duc of yours and that Veldenz of yours? Sheenviev
a grand duchess. You are mad. That's no life for her.

(38:55):
You see, after all, you have thought only of yourself
in this matter. It was your power, your fortune. You
wanted the child you don't care a rap about. Have
you so much as asked yourself if she loved your
rascally grand duke. Have you asked yourself if she loved anybody? No,
you just pursued your object, that is all, at the
risk of hurting Chenvieve and making her unhappy for the

(39:15):
rest of her life. Well, I won't have it. What
she wants is a simple, honest existence led in the
broad light of day, and that is what you can't
give her. Then what do you hear, for he seemed
to waver, but nevertheless, he murmured, in a low voice,
and very sadly, it is impossible that I should never
see her again. It is impossible that I should not

(39:38):
speak to her. She believes you dead. That is exactly
what I do not want. I want her to know
the truth. It is a torture to me to think
that she looks upon me as one who is no more.
Bring her to me, victoile, he spoke in a voice
so gentle and so distressed that she was utterly moved,
and said, listen. First of all, I want to know

(40:00):
it depends upon what you intend to say to her. Befret,
my boy, what do you want with Genviev? He said gravely.
I want to say this, Genvieve, I promise your mother
to give you wealth, power, a fairy like existence. And
on the day when I had attained my aim, I
would have asked you for a little place not very

(40:21):
far from you, rich and happy. You would have forgotten, Yes,
I am sure of it, you would have forgotten who
I am, or rather who I was. Unfortunately, fate has
been too strong for me. I bring you neither wealth
nor power, and it is I on the contrary, who
have need of you, Genviev? Will you help me to
do what? Asked the old woman, anxiously to live? Oh,

(40:46):
she said, Has it come to that, my poor boy? Yes,
he answered simply, without any affectation of sorrow. Yes, it
has come to that. Three human beings are just dead,
killed by me, killed by mine hand. The burden of
the memory is more than I can bear. I am
alone for the first time in my life. I need help.

(41:07):
I have the right to ask that help of Genvieve,
and her duty is to give it to me if not,
If not, then all is over. The old woman was silent, pale,
and quivering with emotion. She once more felt all her
affection for him, whom she had fed at her breast,
and who still and in spite of all, remained her boy.

(41:29):
She asked, what do you intend to do with her?
We shall go abroad. We will take you with us
if you like to come. But you forget, you forget
what your past. She will forget it too. She will
understand that I am no longer the man I was
that I do not wish to be. Then, really, what

(41:50):
you wish is that she should share your life, the
life of Lupeye, the life of the man. That I
shall be of the man who will work, so that
she may be happy, so that she may marry according
to her in close nation. We will settle down in
some nook or other. We will struggle together, side by side,
And you know what I am capable of, she repeated slowly,
with her eyes fixed on his. Then, really, you wish

(42:12):
her to share Lupey's life. He hesitated a second, hardly
a second, and declared plainly, Yes, yes, I wish it.
I have the right. You wish her to abandon all
the children to whom she has devoted herself, all this
life of work, which she loves and which is essential

(42:33):
to her happiness. Yes, I wish it. It is her duty.
The old woman opened the window and said, in that case,
call her Jenvieve was in the garden, sitting on a bench.
Four little girls were crowding round her. Others were playing
and running about. He saw her full face, He saw

(42:55):
her grave, smiling eyes. She held a flower in her
hand and plucked the petals one by one and gave
explanations to the attentive and eager children. Then she asked
them questions, and each answer was rewarded with a kiss
to the pupil. Lupeye looked at her long with infinite
emotion and anguish. A whole eleven of unknown feelings fermented

(43:15):
within him, yet a longing to press that pretty girl
to his breast, to kiss her and tell her how
he respected and loved her. He remembered the mother who
died in the little village of Aspremont, who died of grief.
Call her, said, vitois, why don't you call her? He
sank into a chair and stammered, I I can't. I

(43:37):
can't do it. If not the right, it is impossible.
Let her believe me dead. That is better. He wept,
his shoulders shaking with sobs, his whole being overwhelmed with despair,
swollen with an affection that arose in him like those
backward flowers which die on the very day of their blossoming.

(44:01):
The old woman knelt down beside him and in a
trembling voice, asked, she is your daughter, is she not? Yes,
she is my daughter. Oh, my poor boy, she said,
bursting into tears, My poor boy. End of Chapter sixteen.