Guy Oscard laid aside his rifle. He stepped forward to the open window.
“Is that you, Durnovo?” he said, without raising his voice.
“Yes,” replied the other. His voice was muffled, as if his tongue was swollen, and there was a startling break in it.
Oscard stepped aside, and Durnovo passed into his own house.
“Got a light?” he said, in the same muffled way.
In the next room Joseph could be heard striking a match, and a moment later he entered the room, throwing a flood of light before him.
“GOOD GOD!” cried Guy Oscard. He stepped back as if he had been struck, with his hand shielding his eyes.
“Save us!” ejaculated Joseph in the same breath.
The thing that stood there—sickening their gaze—was not a human being at all. Take a man's eyelids away, leaving the round balls staring, blood-streaked; cut away his lips, leaving the grinning teeth and red gums; shear off his ears—that which is left is not a man at all. This had been done to Victor Durnovo. Truly the vengeance of man is crueller than the vengeance of God!
Could he have seen himself, Victor Durnovo would never have shown that face—or what remained of it—to a human being. He could only have killed himself. Who can tell what cruelties had been paid for, piece by piece, in this loathsome mutilation? The slaves had wreaked their terrible vengeance; but the greatest, the deepest, the most inhuman cruelty was in letting him go.