"You
seem strangely affected, dear sir, by looking at my book," said he
mildly.
"In the name of God, what book is that?" said I. "Is it a Bible?"
"It is my Bible, sir," said he, "but I will cease reading it, for I am
glad to see you. Pray, is not this a day for holy festivity with
you?"
I stared in his face, but made no answer, for my senses were
bewildered.
"Do you not know me?" said he. "You appear to be somehow at a
loss. Had not you and I some sweet communion and fellowship
yesterday?"
"I beg your pardon, sir," said I. "But, surely, if you are the young
gentleman with whom I spent the hours yesterday, you have the
chameleon art of changing your appearance; I never could have
recognized you."
"My countenance changes with my studies and sensations," said
he. It is a natural peculiarity in me, over which I have not full
control. If I contemplate a man's features seriously, mine own
gradually assume the very same appearance and character. And
what is more, by contemplating a face minutely, I not only attain
the same likeness but, with the likeness, I attain the very same
ideas as well as the same mode of arranging them, so that, you
see, by looking at a person attentively, I by degrees assume his
likeness, and by assuming his likeness I attain to the possession
of his most secret thoughts.
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