It was the soul of Sangree,
the long suppressed, deeply loving Sangree, expressed in its single and
intense desire--pure utterly and utterly wonderful.
Yet, at the same time, came the feeling that it was all an illusion. I
suddenly remembered the extraordinary changes the human face can undergo
in circular insanity, when it changes from melancholia to elation; and I
recalled the effect of hascheesh, which shows the human countenance in
the form of the bird or animal to which in character it most
approximates; and for a moment I attributed this mingling of Sangree's
face with a wolf to some kind of similar delusion of the senses. I was
mad, deluded, dreaming! The excitement of the day, and this dim light of
stars and bewildering mist combined to trick me. I had been amazingly
imposed upon by some false wizardry of the senses. It was all absurd and
fantastic; it would pass.
And then, sounding across this sea of mental confusion like a bell
through a fog, came the voice of John Silence bringing me back to a
consciousness of the reality of it all--
"Sangree--in his Double!"
And when I looked again more calmly, I plainly saw that it was indeed
the face of the Canadian, but his face turned animal, yet mingled with
the brute expression a curiously pathetic look like the soul seen
sometimes in the yearning eyes of a dog,--the face of an animal shot
with vivid streaks of the human.
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