He
turned fiercely on Barber with his hand raised--and then suddenly grew
troubled, stepped back, lost countenance. This could not have been
physical fear, for he was a strongly built, handsome man--a giant
compared to the insignificant Barber. But Barber was looking at him, and
there was something not only in his face, but, so to speak,
_encompassing_ him--I can't well describe it--a sort of abstract
right--an uncontrolled power--a command of the issues of life and death,
which made one quail.
Everybody standing near felt it; I could see that from their looks. Only
for a moment it lasted, and then the spell was broken--really as if some
formidable spectacle had been swept away from before our eyes; and there
was Barber, a most ordinary looking young man, quiet and respectable,
and so dazed that he scarcely heeded the cuff which the gentleman
managed to get in before we could drag our friend off--
It was about this time that he began to show occasionally the strangest
interest in questions of art--I mean, strange in him whom we had never
known interested in anything of the kind. I am told, however, that this
is not so very remarkable, since not a few cases have been observed of
men and women, after some shock or illness, developing hitherto
unsuspected aptitude for painting or poetry or music.
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