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CHAPTER III.
AN AWAKENING.
"No man could pass suddenly from Siberia into Senegal without
losing consciousness."--HUMBOLDT.
The swoon of a man, even of one the most firm and energetic, under the
sudden shock of an unexpected stroke of good fortune, is nothing
wonderful. A man is knocked down by the unforeseen blow, like an ox by
the poleaxe. Francis d'Albescola, he who tore from the Turkish ports
their iron chains, remained a whole day without consciousness when they
made him pope. Now the stride from a cardinal to a pope is less than
that from a mountebank to a peer of England.
No shock is so violent as a loss of equilibrium.
When Gwynplaine came to himself and opened his eyes it was night. He was
in an armchair, in the midst of a large chamber lined throughout with
purple velvet, over walls, ceiling, and floor. The carpet was velvet.
Standing near him, with uncovered head, was the fat man in the
travelling cloak, who had emerged from behind the pillar in the cell at
Southwark. Gwynplaine was alone in the chamber with him. From the chair,
by extending his arms, he could reach two tables, each bearing a branch
of six lighted wax candles. On one of these tables there were papers and
a casket, on the other refreshments; a cold fowl, wine, and brandy,
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