grandfather had lived for years with his hands fettered to the ground,

to prevent his tearing himself to pieces. I knew they told the truth - I

knew it well. I had found it out years before, though they had tried to

keep it from me. Ha! ha! I was too cunning for them, madman as they

thought me.

At last it came upon me, and I wondered how I could ever have feared

it. I could go into the world now, and laugh and shout with the best

among them. I knew I was mad, but they did not even suspect it. How

I used to hug myself with delight, when I thought of the fine trick I

was playing them after their old pointing and leering, when I was not

mad, but only dreading that I might one day become so! And how I

used to laugh for joy, when I was alone, and thought how well I kept

my secret, and how quickly my kind friends would have fallen from

me, if they had known the truth. I could have screamed with ecstasy

when I dined alone with some fine roaring fellow, to think how pale he

would have turned, and how fast he would have run, if he had known

that the dear friend who sat close to him, sharpening a bright,

glittering knife, was a madman with all the power, and half the will, to

plunge it in his heart. Oh, it was a merry life!

'Riches became mine, wealth poured in upon me, and I rioted in

pleasures enhanced a thousandfold to me by the consciousness of my

well-kept secret. I inherited an estate. The law - the eagle- eyed law

itself - had been deceived, and had handed over disputed thousands

to a madman's hands. Where was the wit of the sharp- sighted men of

sound mind? Where the dexterity of the lawyers, eager to discover a

flaw? The madman's cunning had overreached them all.

I had money. How I was courted! I spent it profusely. How I was

praised! How those three proud, overbearing brothers humbled

themselves before me! The old, white-headed father, too - such

deference - such respect - such devoted friendship - he worshipped

me! The old man had a daughter, and the young men a sister; and all

the five were poor. I was rich; and when I married the girl, I saw a

smile of triumph play upon the faces of her needy relatives, as they

thought of their well-planned scheme, and their fine prize. It was for

me to smile. To smile! To laugh outright, and tear my hair, and roll

upon the ground with shrieks of merriment. They little thought they

had married her to a madman.

Stay. If they had known it, would they have saved her? A sister's

happiness against her husband's gold. The lightest feather I blow into

the air, against the gay chain that ornaments my body!

'In one thing I was deceived with all my cunning. If I had not been

mad - for though we madmen are sharp-witted enough, we get

bewildered sometimes - I should have known that the girl would

The Pickwick Papers