I know something.  They may say to me, ‘But you give up politics, then?’ Politics, my friends!  I care as much for them as for the rough hide of an ass.  I received, one day, a blow from a baronet’s cane.  I said to myself, That is enough:  I understand politics.  The people have but a farthing, they give it; the queen takes it, the people thank her.  Nothing can be more natural.  It is for the peers to arrange the rest; their lordships, the lords spiritual and temporal.  Oh! so Gwynplaine is locked up!  So he is in prison.  That is just as it should be.  It is equitable, excellent, well-merited, and legitimate.  It is his own fault.  To criticize is forbidden.  Are you a lord, you idiot?  The constable has seized him, the justice of the quorum has carried him off, the sheriff has him in custody.  At this moment he is probably being examined by a serjeant of the coif.  They pluck out your crimes, those clever fellows!  Imprisoned, my wag!  So much the worse for him, so much the better for me!  Faith, I am satisfied.  I own frankly that fortune favours me.  Of what folly was I guilty when I picked up that little boy and girl!  We were so quiet before, Homo and I!  What had they to do in my caravan, the little blackguards?  Didn’t I brood over them when they were young!  Didn’t I draw them along with my harness!  Pretty foundlings, indeed; he as ugly as sin, and she blind of both eyes!  Where was the use of depriving myself of everything for their sakes?  The beggars grow up, forsooth, and make love to each other.  The flirtations of the deformed!  It was to that we had come.  The toad and the mole; quite an idyl!  That was what went on in my household.  All which was sure to end by going before the justice.  The toad talked politics!  But now I am free of him.  When the wapentake came I was at first a fool; one always doubts one’s own good luck.  I believed that I did not see what I did see; that it was impossible, that it was a nightmare, that a day-dream was playing me a trick.  But no!  Nothing could be truer.  It is all clear.  Gwynplaine is really in prison.  It is a stroke of Providence.  Praise be to it!  He was the monster who, with the row he made, drew attention to my establishment and denounced my poor wolf.  Be off, Gwynplaine; and, see, I am rid of both!  Two birds killed with one stone.  Because Dea will die, now that she can no longer see Gwynplaine.  For she sees him, the idiot!  She will have no object in life.  She will say, ‘What am I to do in the world?’ Good-bye!  To the devil with both of them.  I always hated the creatures!  Die, Dea!  Oh, I am quite comfortable!”

CHAPTER II.

WHAT HE DID.

He returned to the Tadcaster Inn,

It struck half-past six.  It was a little before twilight.

Master Nicless stood on his doorstep.

He had not succeeded, since the morning, in extinguishing the terror which still showed on his scared face.