The Works of Edgar Allan Poe - Volume 2


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startled and even awed me. The silken hair, too, had been suffered to  
grow all unheeded, and as, in its wild gossamer texture, it floated  
rather than fell about the face, I could not, even with effort, connect  
its Arabesque expression with any idea of simple humanity.  
In the manner of my friend I was at once struck with an incoherence--an  
inconsistency; and I soon found this to arise from a series of feeble  
and futile struggles to overcome an habitual trepidancy--an excessive  
nervous agitation. For something of this nature I had indeed been  
prepared, no less by his letter, than by reminiscences of certain  
boyish traits, and by conclusions deduced from his peculiar physical  
conformation and temperament. His action was alternately vivacious and  
sullen. His voice varied rapidly from a tremulous indecision (when the  
animal spirits seemed utterly in abeyance) to that species of energetic  
concision--that abrupt, weighty, unhurried, and hollow-sounding  
enunciation--that leaden, self-balanced and perfectly modulated  
guttural utterance, which may be observed in the lost drunkard, or the  
irreclaimable eater of opium, during the periods of his most intense  
excitement.  
It was thus that he spoke of the object of my visit, of his earnest  
desire to see me, and of the solace he expected me to afford him. He  
entered, at some length, into what he conceived to be the nature of his  
malady. It was, he said, a constitutional and a family evil, and one  
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