Victor Hugo - The Man Who Laughs - Cosmopolitan University 2

Somersetshire, nor for the Parisians, who founded York."
At every performance the yard of the inn, transformed into a pit, was
filled with a ragged and enthusiastic audience. It was composed of
watermen, chairmen, coachmen, and bargemen, and sailors, just ashore,
spending their wages in feasting and women. In it there were felons,
ruffians, and blackguards, who were soldiers condemned for some crime
against discipline to wear their red coats, which were lined with black,
inside out, and from thence the name of blackguard, which the French
turn into _blagueurs_. All these flowed from the street into the
theatre, and poured back from the theatre into the tap. The emptying of
tankards did not decrease their success.
Amidst what it is usual to call the scum, there was one taller than the
rest, bigger, stronger, less poverty-stricken, broader in the shoulders;
dressed like the common people, but not ragged.
Admiring and applauding everything to the skies, clearing his way with
his fists, wearing a disordered periwig, swearing, shouting, joking,
never dirty, and, at need, ready to blacken an eye or pay for a bottle.
This frequenter was the passer-by whose cheer of enthusiasm has been
recorded.
This connoisseur was suddenly fascinated, and had adopted the Laughing
Man. He did not come every evening, but when he came he led the
public--applause grew into acclamation--success rose not to the roof,
for there was none, but to the clouds, for there were plenty of them.
Which clouds (seeing that there was no roof) sometimes wept over the
masterpiece of Ursus.
His enthusiasm caused Ursus to remark this man, and Gwynplaine to
observe him.
They had a great friend in this unknown visitor.
Ursus and Gwynplaine wanted to know him; at least, to know who he was.
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.
Then as he redescended the steps at the back of the Green Box, to enter
the inn, Master Nicless let fall this profound reflection, so deep as to
be unintelligible,--