were, allowing Gwynplaine to advance alone.

When Gwynplaine reached the spot under the porch, close to that

miserable thing which he had hitherto perceived only from a distance,

but which was a living man, his fear rose to terror. The man who was

chained there was quite naked, except for that rag so hideously modest,

which might be called the vineleaf of punishment, the succingulum of

the Romans, and the christipannus of the Goths, of which the old

Gallic jargon made cripagne. Christ wore but that shred on the cross.

The terror-stricken sufferer whom Gwynplaine now saw seemed a man of

about fifty or sixty years of age. He was bald. Grizzly hairs of beard

bristled on his chin. His eyes were closed, his mouth open. Every tooth

was to be seen. His thin and bony face was like a death's-head. His arms

and legs were fastened by chains to the four stone pillars in the shape

of the letter X. He had on his breast and belly a plate of iron, and on

this iron five or six large stones were laid. His rattle was at times a

sigh, at times a roar.

The sheriff, still holding his bunch of roses, took from the table with

the hand which was free his white wand, and standing up said, "Obedience

to her Majesty."

Then he replaced the wand upon the table.

Then in words long-drawn as a knell, without a gesture, and immovable as

the sufferer, the sheriff, raising his voice, said,--

610

The Man Who Laughs