of the mast by thick ropes,
of which the knots were visible at the wheels. Having been so long out
of service, it had become dreadfully rickety; it leant over feebly on
one side; it had become quite paralytic from disuse; and, moreover, it
was suffering from that incurable malady--old age. Mouldy and out of
shape, it tottered in decay. The materials of which it was built were
all rotten. The iron was rusty, the leather torn, the wood-work
worm-eaten. There were lines of cracks across the window in front,
through which shone a ray from the lantern. The wheels were warped. The
lining, the floor, and the axletrees seemed worn out with fatigue.
Altogether, it presented an indescribable appearance of beggary and
prostration. The shafts, stuck up, looked like two arms raised to
heaven. The whole thing was in a state of dislocation. Beneath it was
hanging Homo's chain.

Does it not seem that the law and the will of nature would have dictated
Gwynplaine's headlong rush to throw himself upon life, happiness, love
regained? So they would, except in some case of deep terror such as his.
But he who comes forth, shattered in nerve and uncertain of his way,
from a series of catastrophes, each one like a fresh betrayal, is
prudent even in his joy; hesitates, lest he should bear the fatality of
which he has been the victim to those whom he loves; feels that some
evil contagion may still hang about him, and advances towards happiness
with wary steps. The gates of Paradise reopen; but before he enters he
examines his ground.

Gwynplaine, staggering under the weight of his emotion, looked around
him, while the wolf went and lay down silently by his chain.

CHAPTER II.

BARKILPHEDRO, HAVING AIMED AT THE EAGLE, BRINGS DOWN THE DOVE.

The step of the little van was down--the door ajar--there was no one
inside. The faint light which broke through the pane in front sketched
the interior of the caravan vaguely in melancholy chiaroscuro. The
inscriptions of Ursus, gloryifying the grandeur of Lords, showed
distinctly on the worn-out boards, which were both the wall without and
the wainscot within. On a nail, near the door, Gwynplaine saw his
esclavine and his cape hung up, as they hang up the clothes of a corpse
in a dead-house. Just then he had neither waistcoat nor coat on.

Behind the van something was laid out on the deck at the foot of the
mast, which was lighted by the lantern. It was a mattress, of which he
could make out on