I am at a loss to describe adequately just the sensations that I
soon experienced. It was as if puffs of hot and cold air were
alternately blown on my spine, and I felt a twitching of my neck,
legs, and arms. Then came a subtle warmth. The whole thing seemed
droll; the noise of the Swami's voice was most harmonious. His
and Kennedy's faces seemed transformed. They were human faces,
but each had a sort of animal likeness back of it, as Lavater has
said. The Swami seemed to me to be the fox, Kennedy the owl. I
looked in the glass, and I was the eagle. I laughed outright.
It was sensuous in the extreme. The beautiful paintings on the
walls at once became clothed in flesh and blood. A picture of a
lady hanging near me caught my eye. The countenance really smiled
and laughed and varied from moment to moment. Her figure became
rounded and living and seemed to stir in the frame. The face was
beautiful but ghastly. I seemed to be borne along on a sea of
pleasure by currents of voluptuous happiness.
The Swami was affected by a profound politeness. As he rose and
walked about the room, still talking, he salaamed and bowed. When=20
I spoke it sounded like a gun, with an echo long afterward
rumbling in my brain.
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