lily. Two souls in love are as full of grace as two birds. Gwynplaine waited on Dea, cut her bread, poured out her drink, approaching as close to her as possible.
"Hum!" cried Ursus, and turned away, his scolding melting into a smile.
The wolf supped under the table, heedless of everything which did not actually affect his bone. Fibi and Vinos shared the repast, but gave no trouble. These vagabonds, who were only half civilized, and as uncouth as ever, conversed with each other in the Gipsy tongue. At length Dea re-entered the women's apartment with Fibi and Vinos. Ursus chained Homo under the Green Box; Gwynplaine looked after the horses,—the lover becoming a groom, like one of Homer's heroes or Charlemagne's paladins. By midnight all were sound asleep, except the wolf, who, alive to his responsibility, now and then opened an eye. The next morning they met again, and breakfasted together, generally on ham and tea. Tea was introduced into England in 1668. In the middle of the day Dea, after the Spanish fashion, took a siesta, acting on the advice of Ursus, who considered her delicate, and slept several hours, while Gwynplaine and Ursus did all the little jobs of work, in doors and out, which their wandering life necessitated.
Gwynplaine rarely wandered far from the Green Box, except on unfrequented roads and in solitary places. In cities he went out only at night, disguised in a large slouched hat, so as not to show his face in the street. His face was seen uncovered only on the stage.
The Green Box had frequented cities but little. Gwynplaine at twenty-four had never seen any town larger than the Cinque Ports. His fame, however, was increasing. It had begun to rise above the populace, and to percolate into higher ground. Among the many who were fond of, and ran after, foreign curiosities and
