before He exercised it
himself. They played with that weapon of their new Lord, the sway of a
mysterious will over the human soul, which had become enslaved. They
called it mesmerism, hypnotism, suggestion, I know not what? I have
seen them diverting themselves like rash children with this horrible
power! Woe to us! Woe to man! He has come, the--the--what does He call
himself--the--I fancy that he is shouting out his name to me and I do
not hear him--the--yes--He is shouting it out--I am listening--I
cannot--repeat--it--Horla--I have heard--the Horla--it is He--the
Horla--He has come!--

Ah! the vulture has eaten the pigeon, the wolf has eaten the lamb; the
lion has devoured the sharp-horned buffalo; man has killed the lion
with an arrow, with a spear, with gunpowder; but the Horla will make of
man what man has made of the horse and of the ox: his chattel, his
slave, and his food, by the mere power of his will. Woe to us!

But, nevertheless, sometimes the animal rebels and kills the man who
has subjugated it. I should also like--I shall be able to--but I must
know Him, touch Him, see Him! Learned men say that eyes of animals, as
they differ from ours, do not distinguish as ours do. And my eye cannot
distinguish this newcomer who is oppressing me.

Why? Oh! Now I remember the words of the monk at Mont Saint-Michel:
"Can we see the hundred-thousandth part of what exists? Listen; there
is the wind which is the strongest force in nature; it knocks men down,
blows down buildings, uproots trees, raises the sea into mountains of
water, destroys cliffs, and casts great ships on to the breakers; it
kills, it whistles, it sighs, it roars,--have you ever seen it, and can
you see it? It exists for all that, however!"

And I went on thinking: my eyes are so weak, so imperfect, that they do
not even distinguish hard bodies, if they are as transparent as glass!
If a glass without quicksilver behind it were to bar my way, I should
run into it, just like a bird which has flown into a room breaks its
head against the windowpanes. A thousand things, moreover, deceive a
man and lead him astray. How then is it surprising that he cannot
perceive a new body which is penetrated and pervaded by the light?

A new being! Why not? It was assuredly bound to come! Why should we be
the last? We do not distinguish it, like all the others created before
us? The reason is, that its nature is more delicate, its body finer and
more finished than ours