"Where am I?" he said.
The man who was standing before him answered,—"You are in your own house, my lord."
CHAPTER IV.
FASCINATION.
It takes time to rise to the surface. And Gwynplaine had been thrown into an abyss of stupefaction.
We do not gain our footing at once in unknown depths.
There are routs of ideas, as there are routs of armies. The rally is not immediate.
We feel as it were scattered—as though some strange evaporation of self were taking place.
God is the arm, chance is the sling, man is the pebble. How are you to resist, once flung?