saddened and humiliated at seeing the folks who had come
to see "The Laughing Man" turned back and crowding towards other
caravans, had shut the door of the inn. He had even given up the idea of
selling any beer or spirits that evening, that he might have to answer
no awkward questions; and, quite overcome by the sudden close of the
performance, was looking, with his candle in his hand, into the court
from the balcony above.

Ursus, taking the precaution of putting his voice between parentheses
fashioned by adjusting the palms of his hands to his mouth, cried out to
him,--

"Sir! do as your boy is doing--yelp, bark, howl."

He re-ascended the steps of the Green Box, and said to the wolf,--

"_Talk_ as much as you can."

Then, raising his voice,--

"What a crowd there is! We shall have a crammed performance."

In the meantime Vinos played the tambourine. Ursus went on,--

"Dea is dressed. Now we can begin. I am sorry they have admitted so
many spectators. How thickly packed they are!--Look, Gwynplaine, what a
mad mob it is! I will bet that to-day we shall take more money than we
have ever done yet.--Come, gipsies, play up, both of you. Come
here.--Fibi, take your clarion. Good.--Vinos, drum on your tambourine.
Fling it up and catch it again.--Fibi, put yourself into the attitude of
Fame.--Young ladies, you have too much on. Take off those jackets.
Replace stuff by gauze. The public like to see the female form exposed.
Let the moralists thunder. A little indecency. Devil take it! what of
that? Look voluptuous, and rush into wild melodies. Snort, blow,
whistle, flourish, play the tambourine.--What a number of people, my
poor Gwynplaine!"

He interrupted himself.

"Gwynplaine, help me. Let down the platform." He spread out his
pocket-handkerchief. "But first let me roar in my rag," and he blew his
nose violently as a ventriloquist ought. Having returned his
handkerchief to his pocket, he drew the pegs out of the pulleys, which
creaked as usual as the platform was let down.

"Gwynplaine, do not draw the curtain until the performance begins. We
are not alone.--You two come on in front. Music, ladies! turn, turn,
turn.--A pretty audience we have! the dregs of the people. Good
heavens!"

The two gipsies, stupidly obedient, placed themselves in their usual
corners of the platform. Then Ursus became wonderful. It was no longer a
man, but a crowd. Obliged to make abundance out of emptiness, he called
to aid his pro