incorruptible constancy of those who have loved each other from the dawn of their lives, and the affection which keeps its freshness in old age. There is such a thing as the embalmment of the heart. It is of Daphnis and Chloe that Philemon and Baucis are made. The old age, of which we speak, evening resembling morning, was evidently reserved for Gwynplaine and Dea. In the mean time they were young.
Ursus watched this love affair as a doctor watches a case. He had what was termed in those days a hippocratic expression of countenance. He fixed his sagacious eyes on Dea, so fragile and pale, and growled out, "It is lucky that she is happy." At other times he said, "It is fortunate for her health's sake." He shook his head, and at times read attentively the chapters treating of heart-disease in Avicenna, translated by Vopiscus Fortunatus, Louvain, 1650, an old worm-eaten book of his.
Dea, when fatigued, suffered much from perspirations and drowsiness, and took a daily siesta, as we have already said. One day, while she was lying asleep on the bearskin, and Gwynplaine was out, Ursus bent down softly and applied his ear to Dea's heart. He seemed to listen for a few minutes, and then stood up, murmuring, "She must not have any shock. It would be sure to go to the weak spot."
The crowd continued to flock to the performances of "Chaos Vanquished." The success of the Laughing Man seemed inexhaustible. Every one rushed to see him,—not from Southwark only, but even from other parts of London. The general public began to mingle with the usual audience, which no longer consisted exclusively of sailors and drivers. In the opinion of Master Nicless, who was familiar with crowds, there were many gentlemen and baronets disguised as common people in this one. Disguise is one of the chief amusements of the
