woman! What an opponent! He closed his eyes. Too bright a dawn blinds

the eyes. But through his closed eyelids there penetrated at once the

woman's form--not so distinct, but beautiful as ever.

Fly! Easier said than done. He had already tried and failed. He was

rooted to the ground, as if in a dream. When we try to draw back,

temptation clogs our feet and glues them to the earth. We can still

advance, but to retire is impossible. The invisible arms of sin rise

from below and drag us down.

There is a commonplace idea, accepted by every one, that feelings become

blunted by experience. Nothing can be more untrue. You might as well say

that by dropping nitric acid slowly on a sore it would heal and become

sound, and that torture dulled the sufferings of Damiens. The truth is,

that each fresh application intensifies the pain.

From one surprise after another, Gwynplaine had become desperate. That

cup, his reason, under this new stupor, was overflowing. He felt within

him a terrible awakening. Compass he no longer possessed. One idea only

was before him--the woman. An indescribable happiness appeared, which

threatened to overwhelm him. He could no longer decide for himself.

There was an irresistible current and a reef. The reef was not a rock,

but a siren--a magnet at the bottom of the abyss. He wished to tear

himself away from this magnet; but how was he to carry out his wish? He

had ceased to feel any basis of support. Who can foresee the

fluctuations of the human mind! A man may be wrecked, as is a ship.

Conscience is an anchor. It is a terrible thing, but, like the anchor,

753

The Man Who Laughs