Ursus, it may be remembered, had made Gwynplaine his pupil. Unknown

people had worked upon his face; he, on the other hand, had worked on

his mind, and behind this well-executed mask he had placed all that he

could of thought. So soon as the growth of the child had rendered him

fitted for it, he had brought him out on the stage--that is, he had

produced him in front of the van.

The effect of his appearance had been surprising. The passers-by were

immediately struck with wonder. Never had anything been seen to be

compared to this extraordinary mimic of laughter. They were ignorant how

the miracle of infectious hilarity had been obtained. Some believed it

to be natural, others declared it to be artificial, and as conjecture

was added to reality, everywhere, at every cross-road on the journey, in

all the grounds of fairs and fêtes, the crowd ran after Gwynplaine.

Thanks to this great attraction, there had come into the poor purse of

the wandering group, first a rain of farthings, then of heavy pennies,

and finally of shillings. The curiosity of one place exhausted, they

passed on to another. Rolling does not enrich a stone but it enriches a

caravan; and year by year, from city to city, with the increased growth

of Gwynplaine's person and of his ugliness, the fortune predicted by

Ursus had come.

What a good turn they did you there, my boy!" said Ursus.

This "fortune" had allowed Ursus, who was the administrator of

Gwynplaine's success, to have the chariot of his dreams

438

The Man Who Laughs