CHAPTER V.
THE WAPENTAKE.
ONCE, however, he felt it his duty to deviate from this prudent course, thinking that it might be well to make Gwynplaine a little uneasy. It is true that this idea arose from a circumstance much graver, in the opinion of Ursus, than the cabals of his fellow showmen or of the church.
Gwynplaine, as he picked up a farthing, which had fallen when counting the receipts, had, in the presence of the inn-keeper, drawn a contrast between the farthing, representing the misery of the people, and the die, representing (under the figure of Anne) the parasitical magnificence of the throne,—an ill-sounding speech. This observation was repeated by Master Nicless, and had such a run that it reached Ursus through Fibi and Vinos. It put Ursus into a fever. Seditious words, lèse Majesté. He took Gwynplaine severely to task:
"Watch over your abominable tongue. There is a rule for the great,—'Do nothing;' and a rule for the small,—'Say nothing.' The poor man has but one friend, silence. He should pronounce only one syllable, 'Yes.' To confess and to consent is all the right he has. He should say 'Yes' to the judge; 'Yes' to the king. Great people can beat us, if it so pleases them. I have received blows from them. It is their prerogative; and they lose nothing of their greatness by breaking our bones. The ossifrage is a species of eagle.
