half-closed tavern, as Gwynplaine, pensive, content, and dreaming, happy

in a haze of divine joy, passed backwards and forwards in front of the

half-open door.

Of what was he thinking? Of Dea--of nothing--of everything--of the

depths.

He never wandered far from the Green Box, being held, as by a thread, to

Dea. A few steps away from it was far enough for him.

Then he returned, found the whole Green Box asleep, and went to bed

himself.

CHAPTER IV.

CONTRARIES FRATERNIZE IN HATE.

Success is hateful, especially to those whom it overthrows. It is rare

that the eaten adore the eaters.

The Laughing Man had decidedly made a hit. The mountebanks around were

indignant. A theatrical success is a syphon--it pumps in the crowd and

creates emptiness all round. The shop opposite is done for. The

495

The Man Who Laughs