And Truggles faltered and stopped in his tracks. He looked around him, confused, as some unseen force seemed to take his will and disperse it.
The harsh glare of the lights faded in the glow of a greater, softer, more glorious illumination. A soundless music filled the air, so deep and majestic that it was felt, rather than heard. Almost, Truggles expected the sky to open and a heavenly choir to appear.
Around him, he saw the familiar things of Marston Hill with new eyes. Life coursed through the green grass, bade a winter's farewell from the turning leaves of the trees. He felt for the first time that he was not a creature alone, but a part of all life around him.
The faces of the people around him showed that they, too, felt what he felt. They saw beauty in the air, in the world. As he looked on them, Truggles realized, for the first time in the heart of him, that their small faults were not vices, not innate evil—not even the hatred and fear that had been in their hearts when they stormed here with him was evil. There were only the well-meaning flaws that sprang from earnest eagerness.
Even the face of Forsythe, when Truggles looked at it, mirrored the ecstatic understanding of something that he had experienced only partially before. And Truggles knew that the type of understanding that had opened up to Forsythe was something he himself never could comprehend.
And in the midst of this experience that transcended understanding, the boy Donald took his mother's hand and the two of them floated up, into the air, above Truggles' head, and forward to alight gently at Forsythe's side on the porch.
But, amazing as that was, Truggles recognized it was only a small outward manifestation of the Power. The Power of the superman was what he and all these others felt, a weapon greater than fire or sword, greater than will or reason. Under its influence, no man could raise his hand against his brother, for he understood.
The vision, if vision it was, faded, and only a crowd of murmuring people stood around sheepishly in the cold glare of the lights on Forsythe's lawn.