which know all the climes of emotion, from the sunny heights of joy to the black abysses of despair.  At times, in his seasons of deepest depressions, Angelo almost wished that he and his brother might become segregated from each other and be separate individuals, like other men.  But of course as soon as his mind cleared and these diseased imaginings passed away, he shuddered at the repulsive thought, and earnestly prayed that it might visit him no more.  To be separate, and as other men are!  How awkward it would seem; how unendurable.  What would he do with his hands, his arms?  How would his legs feel?  How odd, and strange, and grotesque every action, attitude, movement, gesture would be.  To sleep by himself, eat by himself, walk by himself—­how lonely, how unspeakably lonely!  No, no, any fate but that.  In every way and from every point, the idea was revolting.

This was of course natural; to have felt otherwise would have been unnatural.  He had known no life but a combined one; he had been familiar with it from his birth; he was not able to conceive of any other as being agreeable, or even bearable.  To him, in the privacy of his secret thoughts, all other men were monsters, deformities:  and during three-fourths of his life their aspect had filled him with what promised to be an unconquerable aversion.  But at eighteen his eye began to take note of female beauty; and little by little, undefined longings grew up in his heart, under whose softening influences the old stubborn aversion gradually diminished, and finally disappeared.  Men were still monstrosities to him, still deformities, and in his sober moments he had no desire to be like them, but their strange and unsocial and uncanny construction was no longer offensive to him.

This had been a hard day for him, physically and mentally.  He had been called in the morning before he had quite slept off the effects of the liquor which Luigi had drunk; and so, for the first half-hour had had the seedy feeling, and languor, the brooding depression, the cobwebby mouth and druggy taste that come of dissipation and are so ill a preparation for bodily or intellectual activities; the long violent strain of the reception had followed; and this had been followed, in turn, by the dreary sight-seeing, the judge’s wearying explanations and laudations of the sights, and the stupefying clamor of the dogs.  As a congruous conclusion, a fitting end, his feelings had been hurt, a slight had been put upon him.  He would have been glad to forego dinner and betake himself to rest and sleep, but he held his peace and said no word, for he knew his brother, Luigi, was fresh, unweary, full of life, spirit, energy; he would have scoffed at the idea of wasting valuable time on a bed or a sofa, and would have refused permission.

CHAPTER IV

SUPERNATURAL CHRONOMETRY