"Yes, Sire, Pierre Leduc was an imposter. He is dead." "What can I do for you? You have given me back those letters. . . . You have saved my life. . . . What can I do?" "Nothing, Sire." "You insist upon my remaining your debtor?" "Yes, Sire." The Emperor gave a last glance at that strange man who set himself up in his presence as his equal. Then he bowed his head slightly and walked away without another word. "Aha, Majesty, I've caught you this time!" said Lupin, following him with his eyes. And, philosophically, "No doubt it's a poor revenge . . . and would rather have recovered Alsace-Lorraine. . . . But still . . ." He interrupted himself and stamped his foot on the ground: "You confounded Lupin! Will you never change, will you always remain hateful and cynical to the last moment of your existence? Be serious, hang it all! The time has come, now or never, to be serious!" He climbed the path that leads to the chapel and stopped at the place where the rock had broken loose. He burst out laughing: "It was a good piece of work and His Imperial Majesty's officers did not know what to make of it. But how could they guess that I myself loosened that rock, that, at the last moment, I gave the decisive blow of the pick-axe and that the aforesaid rock rolled down the path which I had made between it and . . . an emperor whose life I was bent on saving?" He sighed: "Ah, Lupin, what a complex mind you have! All that trouble because you had sworn that this particular Majesty should shake you by the hand! A lot of good it has done you! 'An Emperor's hand five fingers has, no more,' as Victor Hugo might have said." He entered the chapel and, with a special key, opened the low door of a little sacristy. On a heap of straw, lay a man, with his hands and legs bound and a gag in his mouth. "Well, my friend, the hermit," said Lupin, "it wasn't so very long, was it? Twenty-four hours at the most. . . . But I have worked jolly hard on your behalf! Just think, you have saved the Emperor's life! Yes, old chap. You are the man who saved the Emperor's life. I have made your fortune, that's what I've done. They'll build a cathedral for you and put up a statue to you when you're dead and gone. Here, take your things." The hermit, nearly dead with hunger, staggered to his feet. Lupin quickly put on his own clothes and said: "Farewell, O worthy and venerable man. Forgive me for this little upset. And pray for me. I shall need it. Eternity is opening its gate wide to me. Farewell." He stood for a few moments on the threshold of the chapel. It was the solemn moment at which one hesitates, in spite of everything, before the terrible end of all things. But his resolution was irrevocable and, without further reflection, he darted out, ran down the slope, crossed the level ground of Tiberius's Leap and put one leg over the hand-rail: