which were holes. The body was wrapped, and apparently corded up, in

coarse canvas, soaked in naphtha. The canvas was mouldy and torn. A knee

protruded through it. A rent disclosed the ribs--partly corpse, partly

skeleton. The face was the colour of earth; slugs, wandering over it,

had traced across it vague ribbons of silver. The canvas, glued to the

bones, showed in reliefs like the robe of a statue. The skull, cracked

and fractured, gaped like a rotten fruit. The teeth were still human,

for they retained a laugh. The remains of a cry seemed to murmur in the

open mouth. There were a few hairs of beard on the cheek. The inclined

head had an air of attention.

Some repairs had recently been done; the face had been tarred afresh, as

well as the ribs and the knee which protruded from the canvas. The feet

hung out below.

Just underneath, in the grass, were two shoes, which snow and rain had

rendered shapeless. These shoes had fallen from the dead man.

The barefooted child looked at the shoes.

The wind, which had become more and more restless, was now and then

interrupted by those pauses which foretell the approach of a storm. For

the last few minutes it had altogether ceased to blow. The corpse no

longer stirred; the chain was as motionless as a plumb line.

Like all newcomers into life, and taking into account the peculiar

influences of his fate, the child no doubt felt within him that

The Man Who Laughs