I was not conscious of anything ridiculous in my look.  I was indignant, which is not a state of mind in which there is any absurdity; but the shop-keeper suddenly burst into a storm of laughter.  He laughed till he seemed almost to fall into convulsions, with a harsh mirth which reminded me of the old image of the crackling of thorns, and had neither amusement nor warmth in it; and presently this was echoed all around, and looking up, I saw grinning faces full of derision bent upon me from every side, from the stairs which led to the upper part of the house and from the depths of the shop behind,—­faces with pens behind their ears, faces in workmen’s caps, all distended from ear to ear, with a sneer and a mock and a rage of laughter which nearly sent me mad.  I hurled I don’t know what imprecations at them as I rushed out, stopping my ears in a paroxysm of fury and mortification.  My mind was so distracted by this occurrence that I rushed without knowing it upon some one who was passing, and threw him down with the violence of my exit; upon which I was set on by a party of half a dozen ruffians, apparently his companions, who would, I thought, kill me, but who only flung me, wounded, bleeding, and feeling as if every bone in my body had been broken, down on the pavement, when they went away, laughing too.

I picked myself up from the edge of the causeway, aching and sore from head to foot, scarcely able to move, yet conscious that if I did not get myself out of the way, one or other of the vehicles which were dashing along would run over me.  It would be impossible to describe the miserable sensations, both of body and mind, with which I dragged myself across the crowded pavement, not without curses and even kicks from the passers-by, and avoiding the shop from which I still heard those shrieks of devilish laughter, gathered myself up in the shelter of a little projection of a wall, where I was for the moment safe.  The pain which I felt was as nothing to the sense of humiliation, the mortification, the rage with which I was possessed.  There is nothing in existence more dreadful than rage which is impotent, which cannot punish or avenge, which has to restrain itself and put up with insults showered upon it.  I had never known before what that helpless, hideous exasperation was; and I was humiliated beyond description, brought down—­I, whose inclination it was to make more of myself than was justifiable—­to the aspect of a miserable ruffian beaten in a brawl, soiled, covered with mud and dust, my clothes torn, my face bruised and disfigured,—­all this within half an hour or there about of my arrival in a strange place where nobody knew me or could do me justice!  I kept looking out feverishly for some one with an air of authority to whom I could appeal.  Sooner or later somebody must go by, who, seeing me in such a plight, must inquire how it came about, must help me and vindicate me.  I sat there for I cannot tell how long, expecting every moment that were it