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a drunken man, so great is the shock of Hope's mighty return.
Homo! What an apparition! During the last forty-eight hours he had
exhausted what might be termed every variety of the thunder-bolt. But
one was left to strike him--the thunderbolt of joy. And it had just
fallen upon him. Certainty, or at least the light which leads to it,
regained; the sudden intervention of some mysterious clemency possessed,
perhaps, by destiny; life saying, "Behold me!" in the darkest recess of
the grave; the very moment in which all expectation has ceased bringing
back health and deliverance; a place of safety discovered at the most
critical instant in the midst of crumbling ruins--Homo was all this to
Gwynplaine. The wolf appeared to him in a halo of light.
Meanwhile, Homo had turned round. He advanced a few steps, and then
looked back to see if Gwynplaine was following him.
Gwynplaine was doing so. Homo wagged his tail, and went on.
The road taken by the wolf was the slope of the quay of the
Effroc-stone. This slope shelved down to the Thames; and Gwynplaine,
guided by Homo, descended it.
Homo turned his head now and then, to make sure that Gwynplaine was
behind him.
In some situations of supreme importance nothing approaches so near an
omniscient intelligence as the simple instinct of a faithful animal. An
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