overboard. If we have bad weather, we shall have to take her below, and

that will be dreadful. An awkward step, a fright, and we shall have a

rupture of the aneurism. I have seen instances of it. O my God! what is

to become of us? Is she asleep? Yes. She is asleep. Is she in a swoon?

No. Her pulse is pretty strong. She is only asleep. Sleep is a reprieve.

It is the happy blindness. What can I do to prevent people walking about

here? Gentlemen, if there be anybody on deck, I beg of you to make no

noise. Do not come near us, if you do not mind. You know a person in

delicate health requires a little attention. She is feverish, you see.

She is very young. 'Tis a little creature who is rather feverish. I put

this mattress down here so that she may have a little air. I explain all

this so that you should be careful. She fell down exhausted on the

mattress as if she had fainted. But she is asleep. I do hope that no one

will awake her. I address myself to the ladies, if there are any

present. A young girl, it is pitiful! We are only poor mountebanks, but

I beg a little kindness, and if there is anything to pay for not making

a noise, I will pay it. I thank you, ladies and gentlemen. Is there any

one there? No? I don't think there is. My talk is mere loss of breath.

So much the better. Gentlemen, I thank you, if you are there; and I

thank you still more if you are not. Her forehead is all in

perspiration. Come, let us take our places in the galleys again. Put on

the chain. Misery is come back. We are sinking again. A hand, the

fearful hand which we cannot see, but the weight of which we feel ever

upon us, has suddenly struck us back towards the dark point of our

destiny. Be it so. We will bear up. Only I will not have her ill. I must

seem a fool to talk aloud like this, when I am alone; but she must feel

she has some one near her when she awakes. What shall I do if somebody

912

The Man Who Laughs