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Updated: May 16, 2025
Barkilphedro was an Irishman who had denied Ireland a bad species. Barkilphedro had but one thing in his favour that he had a very big belly. A big belly passes for a sign of kind-heartedness. But his belly was but an addition to Barkilphedro's hypocrisy; for the man was full of malice. What was Barkilphedro's age? None. The age necessary for his project of the moment.
Perhaps I may go to London myself. In that case I will take charge of it." "I shall take them to him myself," said Gwynplaine. Barkilphedro's smile disappeared, and he said, "Impossible!" There is an impressive inflection of voice which, as it were, underlines the words. Barkilphedro's tone was thus emphasized; he paused, so as to put a full stop after the word he had just uttered.
The lion, humiliated, feels the sting of the insect; and the flea can say, "I have in my veins the blood of a lion." However, these reflections but half appeased the cravings of Barkilphedro's pride. Consolations, palliations at most. To vex is one thing; to torment would be infinitely better.
Josiana, in particular, who, as we have explained, made use of Barkilphedro's talents as a spy, reposed such confidence in him that she had not hesitated to entrust him with one of the master-keys of her apartments, by means of which he was able to enter them at any hour. This excessive licence of insight into private life was in fashion in the seventeenth century. It was called "giving the key."
Where? never mind where. Perhaps in the barn, perhaps in the cellar; what does it matter? A little better than her valets, a little worse than her horses. She had abused his distress his, Barkilphedro's in hastening to do him treacherous good; a thing which the rich do in order to humiliate the poor, and to tie them, like curs led by a string.
So that between two religions, Barkilphedro found himself with his soul on the ground. Not a bad posture, either, for certain reptile souls. Certain ways are impracticable, except by crawling flat on the belly. An obscure but fattening servitude had long made up Barkilphedro's whole existence. Service is something; but he wanted power besides.
Besides, what did the service she rendered him cost her? A service is worth what it costs. She had spare rooms in her house. She came to Barkilphedro's aid! A great thing, indeed. Had she eaten a spoonful the less of turtle soup for it? had she deprived herself of anything in the hateful overflowing of her superfluous luxuries? No.
But how degrading to be thus baffled! To keep hate thenceforth in a case, like a dagger in a museum! How bitter the humiliation! All at once to a certain goal Chance, immense and universal, loves to bring such coincidences about the flask of Hardquanonne came, driven from wave to wave, into Barkilphedro's hands.
Hence the sad eye of the philosophers ever fixed upon that mountain of darkness which is destiny, and from the top of which the colossal spectre of evil casts handfuls of serpents over the earth. Barkilphedro's body was obese and his face lean. A fat bust and a bony countenance.
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