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That forest of hair, those dark hollows under the brows, the deep gaze
of eyes which they could not see, that head, on the wild outlines of
which light and darkness mingled weirdly, were a wonder indeed. It was
beyond all understanding; much as they had heard of him, the sight of
Gwynplaine was a terror. Even those who expected much found their
expectations surpassed. It was as though on the mountain reserved for
the gods, during the banquet on a serene evening, the whole of the
all-powerful body being gathered together, the face of Prometheus,
mangled by the vulture's beak, should have suddenly appeared before
them, like a blood-coloured moon on the horizon. Olympus looking on
Caucasus! What a vision! Old and young, open-mouthed with surprise,
fixed their eyes upon Gwynplaine.
An old man, respected by the whole House, who had seen many men and many
things, and who was intended for a dukedom--Thomas, Earl of
Wharton--rose in terror.
"
What does all this mean?" he cried. "Who has brought this man into the
House? Let him be put out."
And addressing Gwynplaine haughtily,--
"
Who are you? Whence do you come?"
Gwynplaine answered,--
"
Out of the depths."
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