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The man with the plumed hat advanced towards Gwynplaine, who stood with folded arms. "What are you doing here, Gwynplaine?" "And you, Tom-Jim-Jack, what are you doing here?" "Oh! I understand. Josiana! a caprice. A mountebank and a monster! The double attraction is too powerful to be resisted. You disguised yourself in order to get here, Gwynplaine?" "And you, too, Tom-Jim-Jack?"
"Gwynplaine, what does this gentleman's dress mean?" "Tom-Jim-Jack, what does that officer's uniform mean?" "Gwynplaine, I answer no questions." "Neither do I, Tom-Jim-Jack." "Gwynplaine, my name is not Tom-Jim-Jack." "Tom-Jim-Jack, my name is not Gwynplaine." "Gwynplaine, I am here in my own house." "I am here in my own house, Tom-Jim-Jack." "I will not have you echo my words.
Do not lift the folds of the stone-coloured mantles of those terrible powers. Indifference is intelligence. Do not stir, and you will be safe. Feign death, and they will not kill you. Therein lies the wisdom of the insect. Ursus practised it. The tavern-keeper, who was puzzled as well, questioned Ursus one day. "Do you observe that Tom-Jim-Jack never comes here now!" "Indeed!" said Ursus.
At fisticuffs we are equal, but not so with swords. At the Tadcaster Inn Tom-Jim-Jack could box with Gwynplaine; at Windsor the case is altered. Understand this: I am a rear-admiral." "And I am a peer of England." The man whom Gwynplaine recognized as Tom-Jim-Jack burst out laughing. "Why not a king? Indeed, you are right. An actor plays every part.
"I have not remarked it." Master Nicless made an observation in an undertone, no doubt touching the intimacy between the ducal carriage and Tom-Jim-Jack a remark which, as it might have been irreverent and dangerous, Ursus took care not to hear. Still Ursus was too much of an artist not to regret Tom-Jim-Jack. He felt some disappointment.
One evening Ursus was in the side scene, which was the kitchen-door of the Green Box, seeing Master Nicless standing by him, showed him this man in the crowd, and asked him, "Do you know that man?" "Of course I do." "Who is he?" "A sailor." "What is his name?" said Gwynplaine, interrupting. "Tom-Jim-Jack," replied the inn-keeper.
This raging envy against Gwynplaine did not give in for a few friendly hits from Tom-Jim-Jack. The outcries having miscarried, the mountebanks of Tarrinzeau Field fell back on a petition. They addressed to the authorities. This is the usual course. Against an unpleasant success we first try to stir up the crowd and then we petition the magistrate.
Tom-Jim-Jack was in the crowd. He was lost like the rest in the nimbus of this dazzling creature. The lady at first absorbed the whole attention of the public, who had crowded to the performance, thus somewhat diminishing the opening effects of "Chaos Vanquished." Whatever might be the air of dreamland about her, for those who were near she was a woman; perchance too much a woman.
He wore a sword by his side, a magnificent naval uniform, covered with gold lace, and held in his hand a plumed hat with loops and cockade. Gwynplaine sprang up erect as if moved by springs. He recognized the man, and was, in turn, recognized by him. From their astonished lips came, simultaneously, this double exclamation: "Gwynplaine!" "Tom-Jim-Jack!"
Besides, there are too many people. They are uncomfortable. The angles of their neighbours' elbows do not dispose them to good-nature. I hope the benches will not give way. We shall be the victims of an incensed population. Oh, if our friend Tom-Jim-Jack were only here! but he never comes now. Look at those heads rising one above the other.
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