"And Dea!" he said.

Then he felt through his veins a generous transfusion. Something

healthy and tumultuous rushed upon him. The violent irruption of good

thoughts is like the return home of a man who has not his key, and who

forces his own look honestly. It is an escalade, but an escalade of

good. It is a burglary, but a burglary of evil.

Dea! Dea! Dea!" repeated he.

He strove to assure himself of his heart's strength. And he put the

question with a loud voice--"Where are you?"

He almost wondered that no one answered him.

Then again, gazing on the walls and the ceiling, with wandering

thoughts, through which reason returned.

Where are you? Where am I?"

And in the chamber which was his cage he began to walk again, to and

fro, like a wild beast in captivity.

Where am I? At Windsor. And you? In Southwark. Alas! this is the first

time that there has been distance between us. Who has dug this gulf? I

here, thou there. Oh, it cannot be; it shall not be! What is this that

they have done to me?"

738

The Man Who Laughs