It was a crisis—­a crisis that had arisen all in an instant; a crisis for which he was totally unprepared.  Blindly, and without knowing why, McTeague fought against it, moved by an unreasoned instinct of resistance.  Within him, a certain second self, another better McTeague rose with the brute; both were strong, with the huge crude strength of the man himself.  The two were at grapples.  There in that cheap and shabby “Dental Parlor” a dreaded struggle began.  It was the old battle, old as the world, wide as the world—­the sudden panther leap of the animal, lips drawn, fangs aflash, hideous, monstrous, not to be resisted, and the simultaneous arousing of the other man, the better self that cries, “Down, down,” without knowing why; that grips the monster; that fights to strangle it, to thrust it down and back.

Dizzied and bewildered with the shock, the like of which he had never known before, McTeague turned from Trina, gazing bewilderedly about the room.  The struggle was bitter; his teeth ground themselves together with a little rasping sound; the blood sang in his ears; his face flushed scarlet; his hands twisted themselves together like the knotting of cables.  The fury in him was as the fury of a young bull in the heat of high summer.  But for all that he shook his huge head from time to time, muttering: 

“No, by God!  No, by God!”

Dimly he seemed to realize that should he yield now he would never be able to care for Trina again.  She would never be the same to him, never so radiant, so sweet, so adorable; her charm for him would vanish in an instant.  Across her forehead, her little pale forehead, under the shadow of her royal hair, he would surely see the smudge of a foul ordure, the footprint of the monster.  It would be a sacrilege, an abomination.  He recoiled from it, banding all his strength to the issue.

“No, by God!  No, by God!”

He turned to his work, as if seeking a refuge in it.  But as he drew near to her again, the charm of her innocence and helplessness came over him afresh.  It was a final protest against his resolution.  Suddenly he leaned over and kissed her, grossly, full on the mouth.  The thing was done before he knew it.  Terrified at his weakness at the very moment he believed himself strong, he threw himself once more into his work with desperate energy.  By the time he was fastening the sheet of rubber upon the tooth, he had himself once more in hand.  He was disturbed, still trembling, still vibrating with the throes of the crisis, but he was the master; the animal was downed, was cowed for this time, at least.

But for all that, the brute was there.  Long dormant, it was now at last alive, awake.  From now on he would feel its presence continually; would feel it tugging at its chain, watching its opportunity.  Ah, the pity of it!  Why could he not always love her purely, cleanly?  What was this perverse, vicious thing that lived within him, knitted to his flesh?