not a little; but as the bill amounted to two dollars, it was well worth the trick. However, the memory of it remained, like a pin-prick to his self-respect. Following this came other pin-pricks, some shoved in with less force, others straight through.
One wearies of everything. Sick of such a life, the tireless joker began to dream of the joy of being taken seriously, of speaking and being listened to without the play of facial muscles, of gesticulating without disturbing human dignity, of crossing a street without hearing a chorus of "Here comes Pontes!" in the tone of those who check laughter or prepare themselves for a hearty guffaw.
Attempting reaction, Pontes tried to be serious—a disaster! Pontes solemnly changed his tactics and adopted English humorism. Formerly he was amusing as a clown, now he took the part of Tony.
The enormous success which everyone supposed to be a new phase of his comic strain, threw the penitent wag into despair. Was it possible that he could never follow any other path in life than that one, now so hateful to him? A clown then, everlastingly a clown against his will?
But the life of a grown man requires seriousness, gravity and even soberness, unnecessary in youth.
Even the most humble government employment, an office of alderman, requires that immobility of countenance, characteristic of laughterless idiocy. One cannot conceive a smiling, alderman. Rabelais' phrase is lacking
