Seeing a pin shining on the floor, he picked it up and pinned up her

sleeve. Then he paced the Green Box, gesticulating.

"I am in full possession of my faculties. I am lucid, quite lucid. I

consider this occurrence quite proper, and I approve of what has

happened. When she awakes I will explain everything to her clearly. The

catastrophe will not be long in coming. No more Gwynplaine. Good-night,

Dea. How well all has been arranged! Gwynplaine in prison, Dea in the

cemetery, they will be vis-à-vis! A dance of death! Two destinies

going off the stage at once. Pack up the dresses. Fasten the valise. For

valise, read coffin. It was just what was best for them both. Dea

without eyes, Gwynplaine without a face. On high the Almighty will

restore sight to Dea and beauty to Gwynplaine. Death puts things to

rights. All will be well. Fibi, Vinos, hang up your tambourines on the

nail. Your talents for noise will go to rust, my beauties; no more

playing, no more trumpeting 'Chaos Vanquished' is vanquished. 'The

Laughing Man' is done for. 'Taratantara' is dead. Dea sleeps on. She

does well. If I were she I would never awake. Oh! she will soon fall

asleep again. A skylark like her takes very little killing. This comes

of meddling with politics. What a lesson! Governments are right.

Gwynplaine to the sheriff. Dea to the grave-digger. Parallel cases!

Instructive symmetry! I hope the tavern-keeper has barred the door. We

are going to die to-night quietly at home, between ourselves--not I, nor

Homo, but Dea. As for me, I shall continue to roll on in the caravan. I

belong to the meanderings of vagabond life. I shall dismiss these two

women. I shall not keep even one of them. I have a tendency to become an

old scoundrel. A maidservant in the house of a libertine is like a loaf

687

The Man Who Laughs