Harry Carleton cried out,—­

“It is all over with Phelem-ghe-Madone.  I will lay my peerage of Bella-aqua, and my title of Lord Bellew, against the Archbishop of Canterbury’s old wig, on Helmsgail.”

“Give me your muzzle,” said Kilter to Phelem-ghe-Madone.  And stuffing the bloody flannel into the bottle, he washed him all over with gin.  The mouth reappeared, and he opened one eyelid.  His temples seemed fractured.

“One round more, my friend,” said Kilter; and he added, “for the honour of the low town.”

The Welsh and the Irish understand each other, still Phelem made no sign of having any power of understanding left.

Phelem arose, supported by Kilter.  It was the twenty-fifth round.  From the way in which this Cyclops, for he had but one eye, placed himself in position, it was evident that this was the last round, for no one doubted his defeat.  He placed his guard below his chin, with the awkwardness of a failing man.

Helmsgail, with a skin hardly sweating, cried out,—­

“I’ll back myself, a thousand to one.”

Helmsgail, raising his arm, struck out; and, what was strange, both fell.  A ghastly chuckle was heard.  It was Phelem-ghe-Madone’s expression of delight.  While receiving the terrible blow given him by Helmsgail on the skull, he had given him a foul blow on the navel.

Helmsgail, lying on his back, rattled in his throat.

The spectators looked at him as he lay on the ground, and said, “Paid back!” All clapped their hands, even those who had lost.  Phelem-ghe-Madone had given foul blow for foul blow, and had only asserted his right.

They carried Helmsgail off on a hand-barrow.  The opinion was that he would not recover.

Lord Robartes exclaimed, “I win twelve hundred guineas.”

Phelem-ghe-Madone was evidently maimed for life.

As she left, Josiana took the arm of Lord David, an act which was tolerated amongst people “engaged.”  She said to him,—­

“It is very fine, but—­”

“But what?”

“I thought it would have driven away my spleen.  It has not.”

Lord David stopped, looked at Josiana, shut his mouth, and inflated his cheeks, whilst he nodded his head, which signified attention, and said to the duchess,—­

“For spleen there is but one remedy.”

“What is it?”

“Gwynplaine.”

The duchess asked,—­

“And who is Gwynplaine?”

BOOK THE SECOND.

GWYNPLAINE AND DEA.

CHAPTER I.

WHEREIN WE SEE THE FACE OF HIM OF WHOM WE HAVE HITHERTO SEEN ONLY THE
ACTS.

Nature had been prodigal of her kindness to Gwynplaine.  She had bestowed on him a mouth opening to his ears, ears folding over to his eyes, a shapeless nose to support the spectacles of the grimace maker, and a face that no one could look upon without laughing.