ent, the
salamander, the tarask, the dree, the dragon, and the hippogriff. All
these things, terrible to us, are to them but an ornament and an
embellishment. They have a menagerie which they call the blazon, in
which unknown beasts roar. The prodigies of the forest are nothing
compared to the inventions of their pride. Their vanity is full of
phantoms which move as in a sublime night, armed with helm and cuirass,
spurs on their heels and the sceptres in their hands, saying in a grave
voice, 'We are the ancestors!' The canker-worms eat the roots, and
panoplies eat the people. Why not? Are we to change the laws? The
peerage is part of the order of society. Do you know that there is a
duke in Scotland who can ride ninety miles without leaving his own
estate? Do you know that the Archbishop of Canterbury has a revenue of
L40,000 a year? Do you know that her Majesty has L700,000 sterling from
the civil list, besides castles, forests, domains, fiefs, tenancies,
freeholds, prebendaries, tithes, rent, confiscations, and fines, which
bring in over a million sterling? Those who are not satisfied are hard
to please."

"Yes," murmured Gwynplaine sadly, "the paradise of the rich is made out
of the hell of the poor."

CHAPTER XII.

URSUS THE POET DRAGS ON URSUS THE PHILOSOPHER.

Then Dea entered. He looked at her, and saw nothing but her. This is
love; one may be carried away for a moment by the importunity of some
other idea, but the beloved one enters, and all that does not appertain
to her presence immediately fades away, without her dreaming that
perhaps she is effacing in us a world.

Let us mention a circumstance. In "Chaos Vanquished," the word
_monstruo_, addressed to Gwynplaine, displeased Dea. Sometimes, with the
smattering of Spanish which every one knew at the period, she took it
into her head to replace it by _quiero_, which signifies, "I wish it."
Ursus tolerated, although not without an expression of impatience, this
alteration in his text. He might have said to Dea, as in our day
Moessard said to Vissot, _Tu manques de respect au repertoire_.

"The Laughing Man."

Such was the form of Gwynplaine's fame. His name, Gwynplaine, little
known at any time, had disappeared under his nickname, as his face had
disappeared under its grin.

His popularity was like his visage--a mask.

His name, however, was to be read on a large placard in front of the
Green Box, which offered the crowd the following narrati