“Dear me, yes, an attractive bandit, a romantic and chivalrous cracksman, anything you please. For all that, in the eyes of a really honest woman, with an upright nature and a well-balanced mind, I am only the merest riff-raff.”
I saw that the wound was sharper than he was willing to admit, and I said:
“So you really loved her?”
“I even believe,” he said, in a jesting tone, “that I asked her to marry me. After all, I had saved her son, had I not?... So . . . I thought. What a rebuff!... It produced a coolness between us.... Since then....”
“You have forgotten her?”
“Oh, certainly! But it required the consolations of one Italian, two Americans, three Russians, a German grand-duchess and a Chinawoman to do it!”
“And, after that....?”
“After that, so as to place an insuperable barrier between myself and her, I got married.”
“Nonsense! You got married, you, Arsène Lupin?”
“Married, wedded, spliced, in the most lawful fashion. One of the greatest names in France. An only daughter. A colossal fortune.... What! You don’t know the story? Well, it’s worth hearing.”