You rub your eyes, question yourself, ask yourself in the
presence of what humanized phenomenon, of what unknown force, of
what new creature you stand. Was all this what they hid in their
eyes, those silent brothers of ours? You blush at arm's long
injustice. You look around you for some sort of trace, obvious or
subtle, of the mystery. You feel yourself attacked in your
innermost citadel, where you held yourself most certain and most
impregnable. You have felt a breath from the abyss upon your
face. You would not be more astonished if you suddenly heard the
voice of the dead. But the most astonishing thing is that you are
not astonished for long. We all, unknown to ourselves, live in
the expectation of the extraordinary; and, when it comes, it
moves us much less than did the expectation. It is as though a
sort of higher instinct, which knows everything and is not
ignorant of the miracles that hang over our heads, were
reassuring us in advance and helping us to make an easy entrance
into the regions of the supernatural. There is nothing to which
we grow accustomed more readily than to the marvellous; and it is
only afterwards, upon reflection, that our intelligence, which
knows hardly anything, appreciates the magnitude of certain
phenomena.
11
But Muhamed gives unmistakable signs of impatience to show that
he has had enough of spelling.
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