g the bunch of roses as a priest about to
sprinkle holy water, called to the prisoner in a loud voice, and became
awful.

"O wretched man, speak! The law supplicates before she exterminates you.
You, who feign to be mute, remember how mute is the tomb. You, who
appear deaf, remember that damnation is more deaf. Think of the death
which is worse than your present state. Repent! You are about to be left
alone in this cell. Listen! you who are my likeness; for I am a man!
Listen, my brother, because I am a Christian! Listen, my son, because I
am an old man! Look at me; for I am the master of your sufferings, and I
am about to become terrible. The terrors of the law make up the majesty
of the judge. Believe that I myself tremble before myself. My own power
alarms me. Do not drive me to extremities. I am filled by the holy
malice of chastisement. Feel, then, wretched man, the salutary and
honest fear of justice, and obey me. The hour of confrontation is come,
and you must answer. Do not harden yourself in resistance. Do not that
which will be irrevocable. Think that your end belongs to me. Half man,
half corpse, listen! At least, let it not be your determination to
expire here, exhausted for hours, days, and weeks, by frightful agonies
of hunger and foulness, under the weight of those stones, alone in this
cell, deserted, forgotten, annihilated, left as food for the rats and
the weasels, gnawed by creatures of darkness while the world comes and
goes, buys and sells, whilst carriages roll in the streets above your
head. Unless you would continue to draw painful breath without remission
in the depths of this despair--grinding your teeth, weeping,
blaspheming--without a doctor to appease the anguish of your wounds,
without a priest to offer a divine draught of water to your soul. Oh! if
only that you may not feel the frightful froth of the sepulchre ooze
slowly from your lips, I adjure and conjure you to hear me. I call you
to your own aid. Have pity on yourself. Do what is asked of you. Give
way to justice. Open your eyes, and see if you recognize this man!"

The prisoner neither turned his head nor lifted his eyelids.

The sheriff cast a glance first at the justice of the quorum and then at
the wapentake.

The justice of the quorum, taking Gwynplaine's hat and mantle, put his
hands on his shoulders and placed him in the light by the side of the
chained man. The face of Gwynplaine stood out clearly from the
surrounding sha