"Why, yes, I! Prince Sernine, or rather Lupin, since you know my real name! Did you think that Lupin had departed this life? . . . Oh, yes, I see, prison. . . . You were hoping . . . Get out, you baby!" He patted him gently on the shoulder. "There, there, young fellow, don't be frightened: you have still a few nice quiet days left to write your poems in. The time has not yet come. Write your verses . . . poet!"
Then he gripped Leduc's arm violently and, looking him full in the face, said:
"But the time is drawing near . . . poet! Don't forget that you belong to me, body and soul. And prepare to play your part. It will be a hard and magnificent part. And, as I live, I believe you're the man to play it!"
He burst out laughing, turned on one foot and left young Leduc astounded.
A little further, at the corner of the Rue de la Pompe, stood the wine-shop of which Mrs. Kesselbach had spoken to him. He went in and had a long talk with the proprietor.
Then he took a taxi and drove to the Grand Hotel, where he was staying under the name of André Beauny, and found the brothers Doudeville waiting for him.
Lupin, though used to that sort of pleasure, nevertheless enjoyed the marks of admiration and devotion with which his friends overwhelmed him:
"But, governor, tell us . . . what happened? We're accustomed to all sorts of wonders with you; but still, there are limits. . . . So you are free? And here you are, in the heart of Paris, scarcely disguised. . . . !"
"Have a cigar," said Lupin.
"Thank you, no."