In the obscure and giddy debate of conscience, what had he said to

himself? This: "The people are a silence. I will be the mighty advocate

of that silence; I will speak for the dumb; I will speak of the little

to the great--of the weak to the powerful. This is the purpose of my

fate. God wills what He wills, and does it. It was a wonder that

Hardquanonne's flask, in which was the metamorphosis of Gwynplaine into

Lord Clancharlie, should have floated for fifteen years on the ocean, on

the billows, in the surf, through the storms, and that all the raging of

the sea did it no harm. But I can see the reason. There are destinies

with secret springs. I have the key of mine, and know its enigma. I am

predestined; I have a mission. I will be the poor man's lord; I will

speak for the speechless with despair; I will translate inarticulate

remonstrance; I will translate the mutterings, the groans, the murmurs,

the voices of the crowd, their ill-spoken complaints, their

unintelligible words, and those animal-like cries which ignorance and

suffering put into men's mouths. The clamour of men is as inarticulate

as the howling of the wind. They cry out, but they are understood; so

that cries become equivalent to silence, and silence with them means

throwing down their arms. This forced disarmament calls for help. I will

be their help; I will be the Denunciation; I will be the Word of the

people. Thanks to me, they shall be understood. I will be the bleeding

mouth from which the gag has been torn. I will tell everything. This

will be great indeed."

Yes; it is fine to speak for the dumb, but to speak to the deaf is sad.

And that was his second part in the drama.

889

The Man Who Laughs