Some of these lords were still in their robes, others had thrown them off, and were in their usual attire.  Tom-Jim-Jack wore a hat with plumes—­not white, like the peers; but green tipped with orange.  He was embroidered and laced from head to foot, had flowing bows of ribbon and lace round his wrists and neck, and was feverishly fingering with his left hand the hilt of the sword which hung from his waistbelt, and on the billets and scabbard of which were embroidered an admiral’s anchors.

It was he who was speaking and addressing the young lords; and Gwynplaine overheard the following:—­

“I have told you you are cowards.  You wish me to withdraw my words.  Be it so.  You are not cowards; you are idiots.  You all combined against one man.  That was not cowardice.  All right.  Then it was stupidity.  He spoke to you, and you did not understand him.  Here, the old are hard of hearing, the young devoid of intelligence.  I am one of your own order to quite sufficient extent to tell you the truth.  This new-comer is strange, and he has uttered a heap of nonsense, I admit; but amidst all that nonsense there were some things which were true.  His speech was confused, undigested, ill-delivered.  Be it so.  He repeated, ’You know, you know,’ too often; but a man who was but yesterday a clown at a fair cannot be expected to speak like Aristotle or like Doctor Gilbert Burnet, Bishop of Salisbury.  The vermin, the lions, the address to the under-clerks—­all that was in bad taste.  Zounds! who says it wasn’t?  It was a senseless and fragmentary and topsy-turvy harangue; but here and there came out facts which were true.  It is no small thing to speak even as he did, seeing it is not his trade.  I should like to see you do it.  Yes, you!  What he said about the lepers at Burton Lazars is an undeniable fact.  Besides, he is not the first man who has talked nonsense.  In fine, my lords, I do not like to see many set upon one.  Such is my humour; and I ask your lordships’ permission to take offence.  You have displeased me; I am angry.  I am grateful to God for having drawn up from the depth of his low existence this peer of England, and for having given back his inheritance to the heir; and, without heeding whether it will or will not affect my own affairs, I consider it a beautiful sight to see an insect transformed into an eagle, and Gwynplaine into Lord Clancharlie.  My lords, I forbid you holding any opinion but mine.  I regret that Lord Lewis Duras should not be here.  I should like to insult him.  My lords, it is Fermain Clancharlie who has been the peer, and you who have been the mountebanks.  As to his laugh, it is not his fault.  You have laughed at that laugh; men should not laugh at misfortune.  If you think that people cannot laugh at you as well, you are very much mistaken.  You are ugly.  You are badly dressed.  My Lord Haversham, I saw your mistress the other day; she is hideous—­a duchess, but a monkey.  Gentlemen who laugh, I