Спрут: Каліфорнійська історія
Chapter IV
Itwassmallwonderthat,bringingafancysodistortedbacktothesceneofavanishedhappiness,Vanameeshouldberackedwiththemostviolentillusions,besetinthethroesofaveritablehysteria.
“TellyourGodtogiveherbacktome,”herepeatedwithfierceinsistence.
Itwasthepitchofmysticism,theimaginationharassedandgoadedbeyondthenormalround,suddenlyflippingfromthecircumference,spinningoffatatangent,outintothevoid,whereallthingsseemedpossible,hurtlingthroughthedarkthere,gropingforthesupernatural,clamouringforthemiracle.Anditwasalsothehuman,naturalprotestagainsttheinevitable,theirrevocable;thespasmofrevoltunderthestingofdeath,therebellionofthesoulatthevictoryofthegrave.
“HecangiveherbacktomeifHeonlywill,”Vanameecried.“Sarria,youmusthelpme.Itellyou—Iwarnyou,sir,Ican’tlastmuchlongerunderit.Myheadisallwrongwithit—I’venomoreholdonmymind.SomethingmusthappenorIshalllosemysenses.Iambreakingdownunderitall,mybodyandmymindalike.Bringhertome;makeGodshowhertome.Ifalltalesaretrue,itwouldnotbethefirsttime.IfIcannothaveher,atleastletmeseeherasshewas,real,earthly,notherspirit,herghost.Iwantherrealself,undefiledagain.Ifthisisdementia,thenletmebedemented.Buthelpme,youandyourGod;createthedelusion,dothemiracle.”
“Stop!”criedthepriestagain,shakinghimroughlybytheshoulder.“Stop.Beyourself.Thisisdementia;butIshallNOTletyoubedemented.Thinkofwhatyouaresaying.
