him with his eyes.

"Why do you unhook that?"

Ursus burst into a second fit of laughter.

"Why do you laugh?" said the tavern-keeper.

"I am re-entering private life."

Master Nicless understood, and gave an order to his lieutenant, the boy
Govicum, to announce to every one who should come that there would be no
performance that evening. He took from the door the box made out of a
cask, where they received the entrance money, and rolled it into a
corner of the lower sitting-room.

A moment after, Ursus entered the Green Box.

He put the two signs away in a corner, and entered what he called the
woman's wing.

Dea was asleep.

She was on her bed, dressed as usual, excepting that the body of her
gown was loosened, as when she was taking her siesta.

Near her Vinos and Fibi were sitting--one on a stool, the other on the
ground--musing. Notwithstanding the lateness of the hour, they had not
dressed themselves in their goddesses' gauze, which was a sign of deep
discouragement. They had remained in their drugget petticoats and their
dress of coarse cloth.

Ursus looked at Dea.

"She is rehearsing for a longer sleep," murmured he.

Then, addressing Fibi and Vinos,--

"You both know all. The music is over. You may put your trumpets into
the drawer. You did well not to equip yourselves as deities. You look
ugly enough as you are, but you were quite right. Keep on your
petticoats. No performance to-night, nor to-morrow, nor the day after
to-morrow. No Gwynplaine. Gwynplaine is clean gone."

Then he looked at Dea again.

"What a blow to her this will be! It will be like blowing out a candle."

He inflated his cheeks.

"Puff! nothing more."

Then, with a little dry laugh,--

"Losing Gwynplaine, she loses all. It would be just as if I were to lose
Homo. It will be worse. She will feel more lonely than any one else
could. The blind wade through more sorrow than we do."

He looked out of the window at the end of the room.

"How the days lengthen! It is not dark at seven o'clock. Nevertheless we
will light up."

He struck the steel and lighted the lamp which hung from the ceiling of
the Green Box.

Then he leaned over Dea.

"She will catch cold; you have unlaced her bodice too low. There is a
proverb,--

"'Though April skies be bright,
Keep all your wrappers tight.'"

Seeing a pin shining on the floor, he picked it up and pinned up her
sleeve. Then he paced the Green Box, gesticulating.

"I