このエントリは 21の21の部分 シリーズに ルパンの告白
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アルセーヌ・ルパン「ルパンの結婚」下

下では、ついに本物のジャック・ダンボワーズが現れ、ルパンの入れ替わりの真相が明かされます。公爵はルパンを撃ち殺そうとしますが、アンジェリックは思いがけない行動に出ます。策略、変装、待ち伏せ、良心、宗教的な結婚観が交差する、物語の結末部分です。

動作・展開 感情・心理 危険・屈辱 場面・描写 策略・手がかり 重要表現

There was a pause, during which the newcomer shut the window and closed the door leading to the next room.

Then he came up to the old duke, touched him gently on the shoulder, to wake him from his torpor, and spoke without further preface.

“Four years ago, in the eleventh year of my voluntary exile, I settled in the extreme south of Algeria.”

“There, during a hunting-expedition arranged by a great Arab chief, I made the acquaintance of the Comte d’Andresy.”

“His geniality, his charm of manner, his consummate prowess, and his indomitable pluck fascinated me.”

“The Comte d’Andresy spent six weeks as my guest. After he left, we kept up a correspondence at regular intervals.”

“Three months ago, one evening as I was out riding, my two Arab attendants flung themselves upon me, bound me, and blindfolded me.”

“They took me, travelling day and night for a week, along deserted roads, to a bay on the coast.”

“I was carried on board a small steam-yacht, which weighed anchor without delay.”

“They locked me into a narrow cabin, secured by a massive door and lighted by a port-hole protected by two iron cross-bars.”

“Every morning, a hand placed bread, food, and a flagon of wine on my bunk through a hatch.”

“This lasted for weeks. One morning, in the ninth week, I perceived that the hatch had been left unfastened.”

“With an effort, I was able to take a nail-file from a dressing-table.”

“Two weeks after that, by patient perseverance, I had succeeded in filing through the bars of my port-hole.”

“But I had to choose a moment when the yacht was not too far from the land.”

“Yesterday, at sunset, I recognized, to my astonishment, the outlines of the Chateau de Sarzeau.”

“This morning, just as I was about to escape, I found a bundle of letters containing instructions addressed to the pirates who held me prisoner.”

“Then I knew all: the reasons for my abduction, the means employed, the object in view, and the infamous scheme plotted against you and your daughter.”

“Unfortunately, it was too late. I did not reach land until mid-day.”

“By the time I had exchanged my clothes for a fisherman’s and come here, it was three o’clock. On my arrival, I learnt that Angelique’s marriage was celebrated this morning.”

* * *

The old duke had not spoken a word. He listened in ever-increasing dismay.

At times, the warning of the prefect of police returned to his mind: “They’re nursing you, monsieur le duc.”

“Speak on,” he said in a hollow voice. “Finish your story. All this is ghastly.”

The stranger resumed: “The Comte d’Andresy remembered several things from the confidences which I was foolish enough to make to him.”

“First, I was your nephew, yet you had seen comparatively little of me.”

“Secondly, having broken with the past, I received no letters.”

“Lastly, there was a certain physical resemblance between d’Andresy and myself.”

“His scheme was built up on those three points.”

“He bribed my Arab servants, returned to Paris under my name, and lived as Jacques d’Emboise, one of his many aliases.”

“When ‘the apple was ripe,’ he began the attack by a series of communications to the press.”

“And, fearing that some newspaper would tell me in Algeria what was being played under my name, he had me assaulted and kidnapped.”

The duke was shaken with a fit of nervous trembling.

“It’s Lupin, is it not?” he said despairingly.

“Yes, uncle.”

“And it’s to him … it’s to him that I have given my daughter!”

“Yes, uncle, to him, who has stolen my name of Jacques d’Emboise and stolen your daughter from you.”

“Angelique is the wedded wife of Arsene Lupin; and that in accordance with your orders.”

“But why did she select that one rather than the others?”

“It was you who selected him, uncle.”

“No, not at random, but on the insidious, persistent advice of your servant Hyacinthe.”

The duke gave a start: “What! Is Hyacinthe an accomplice?”

“No, not of Arsene Lupin, but of the man whom he believes to be d’Emboise.”

“That man promised to give him a hundred thousand francs within a week after the marriage.”

“Oh, the villain! He planned everything, foresaw everything!”

“Angelique has a fortune of eleven million francs.”

“Your solicitor in Paris was to hand the securities next week to the counterfeit d’Emboise.”

“This morning, you yourself were to hand your son-in-law five hundred thousand francs’ worth of bearer-stock.”

“He has arranged to deliver it to an accomplice at nine o’clock this evening, outside the castle, near the Great Oak.”

* * *

The duke rose and stamped furiously up and down the room.

“At nine o’clock this evening? We’ll see about that. I’ll have the gendarmes here before then.”

“Arsene Lupin laughs at gendarmes.”

“Let’s telegraph to Paris.”

“Yes, but how about the five hundred thousand francs? And, still worse, the scandal?”

“Think of this: your daughter, Angelique de Sarzeau-Vendome, married to that swindler, that thief.”

The nephew took down a rifle and laid it on the table.

“In Algeria, when we find ourselves face to face with a wild beast, we do not send for the gendarmes.”

“We take our rifle and we shoot the wild beast.”

“Once the beast is killed, you and I will bury it in some corner, unseen and unknown.”

“And Angelique?”

“We will tell her later. She will be my wife, the wife of the real d’Emboise.”

“At nine o’clock this evening, Arsene Lupin will take the patrol-path that follows the old ramparts and skirts the ruins of the chapel.”

“I shall be there, in the ruins.”

“I shall be there too,” said the duke, quietly, taking down a gun.

When night came, the duke hid the real d’Emboise in an adjoining closet.

At dinner, the duke forced himself to keep calm, stealing glances at his son-in-law.

The likeness was striking, yet the eye was different, keener and brighter.

At eight o’clock, the duke released his nephew, and ten minutes later they slipped into the ruins, gun in hand.

* * *

Meanwhile, Angelique and her husband had gone to the suite of rooms in the tower.

“I am going for a short stroll, Angelique. May I come to you here, when I return?”

“Yes,” she replied.

He went upstairs, locked the door, opened a window, and saw a shadow at the foot of the tower.

He whistled and received a faint whistle in reply.

He took a thick leather satchel, crammed with papers, wrapped it in black cloth, and wrote a letter.

“Glad you got my message, for I think it unsafe to walk out of the castle with that large bundle of securities.”

“You will be in Paris, on your motor-cycle, in time to catch the morning train to Brussels, where you will hand over the bonds to Z.”

“P. S. — As you pass by the Great Oak, tell our chaps that I’m coming. But everything is going well. No one here has the least suspicion.”

He fastened the letter to the parcel and lowered both through the window with a length of string.

“Good,” he said. “That’s all right. It’s a weight off my mind.”

He smiled at the portraits on the wall: “Lupin de Sarzeau-Vendome will show himself worthy of you.”

At last, when the time came, he took his hat and went down.

But Angelique burst from her rooms with a distraught air.

“I say … if you don’t mind … I think you had better….”

And then, without saying more, she went in again.

“She’s out of sorts,” he said to himself. “Marriage doesn’t suit her.”

He lit a cigarette and went out, without attaching importance to an incident that ought to have impressed him.

The night outside was dark, with a cloudy sky.

The patrol-path ran along the old ramparts and ended at an almost demolished postern-gate.

“What a wonderful place for an ambush!” he said. “A regular cut-throat spot!”

At a short distance, he saw the darker outline of the ruined chapel. A clock struck nine.

Suddenly, he stopped. A hand had seized his.

A voice said: “Ssh! Not a word!”

He recognized his wife, Angelique.

“They are lying in wait for you … they are in there, in the ruins, with their guns.”

“Who?”

“Keep quiet. Listen.”

“Come with me.”

Her accent was so imperious that he obeyed without further question.

Then, swiftly, still holding him by the hand, she dragged him along a shortcut through darkness and brambles.

They crossed the courtyard and entered the castle; and she led him to the corner tower.

* * *

Almost immediately, there was a knock at the door, and a voice called: “Angelique!”

“Is that you, father?” she asked, suppressing her agitation.

“Yes. Is your husband here?”

“We have just come in.”

“Tell him I want to speak to him. Ask him to come to my room. It’s important.”

She listened for a few seconds, then returned to the boudoir where her husband was.

“My father is not alone,” she said, quickly, blocking his way.

“Who is with him?”

“His nephew, Jacques d’Emboise.”

“My father knows everything,” she said. “His nephew has read certain letters.”

He burst out laughing: “D’Emboise versus d’Emboise! Oh, but suppose I were no longer recognized?”

He turned to a wash-hand-stand, dipped a towel in the basin, soaped it, and in the twinkling of an eye wiped the make-up from his face.

“That’s it,” he said. “I feel more comfortable like this for a discussion with my father-in-law.”

“Where are you going?” she cried, flinging herself in front of the door.

“Why, to join the gentlemen.”

“You shall not pass!”

“Suppose they kill you?”

“That’s what they mean to do, to kill you … to hide your body somewhere.”

“Very well,” he said. “From their point of view, they are quite right.”

“But, if I don’t go to them, they will come here. Therefore, it’s better to have done with it.”

“Follow me,” commanded Angelique.

She pushed aside the wardrobe, which slid on hidden castors, and pulled back an old tapestry-hanging.

“Here is a door that has not been used for years. My father believes the key to be lost. I have it here.”

“A staircase in the wall will take you to the bottom of the tower. Draw the bolts of another door and you will be free.”

He suddenly understood Angelique’s behaviour and stood abashed.

A feeling of respect, mingled with remorse and kindness, overcame him.

“Why are you saving me?” he whispered.

“You are my husband.”

“No, no … I have stolen that title. The law will never recognize my marriage.”

“My father does not want a scandal,” she said.

“Just so,” he replied. “I foresaw that. Once I disappear, d’Emboise becomes your husband in the eyes of men.”

“You are the man I have married in the eyes of the Church.”

“The Church! There are means of arranging matters with the Church. Your marriage can be annulled.”

“On what pretext that we can admit?”

He remained silent and repeated several times: “This is terrible … this is terrible…. I should have anticipated….”

Suddenly, seized with an idea, he cried: “There, I have it! I’m hand in glove with one of the chief figures at the Vatican.”

“The Pope never refuses me anything. I shall obtain an audience.”

His plan was so humorous and his delight so artless that Angelique could not help smiling.

“I am your wife in the eyes of God.”

She gave him a look that showed neither scorn nor anger.

He realized that she remembered only the man who was her husband and to whom the priest had bound her until the hour of death.

“Oh, your eyes … the calm and sadness of your eyes … the beauty of your eyes!”

She dropped her head and stammered: “Go away … go….”

He suddenly represented to her, in that exceptional moment, a Byronic hero, a chivalrous brigand of romance.

He was on the verge of crying: “Let us go away together! Let us fly!”

But Angelique’s eyes were so pure and noble that he blushed in his turn.

He whispered: “Forgive me. I am a contemptible wretch. I have wrecked your life.”

“No,” she replied softly. “On the contrary, you have shown me where my real life lies.”

She opened the door and pointed the way to him. Nothing more could be spoken between them.

He went out without a word, bowing very low as he passed.

* * *

A month later, Angelique de Sarzeau-Vendome, Princesse de Bourbon-Conde, lawful wife of Arsene Lupin, took the veil.

Under the name of Sister Marie-Auguste, she buried herself within the walls of the Visitation Convent.

On the day of the ceremony, the mother superior received a heavy sealed envelope.

“For Sister Marie-Auguste’s poor.”

Enclosed with the letter were five hundred bank-notes of a thousand francs each.

ルパンの告白

アルセーヌ・ルパン「ルパンの結婚」中