lute not to be fooled by any mock influence which could resolve
itself into the action of nerves or ganglions. The first symptom; as
before, was that my heart sprang up with a bound, as if a cannon had been
fired at my ear. My whole being responded with a start. The pen fell out
of my fingers, the figures went out of my head as if all faculty had
departed; and yet I was conscious for a time at least of keeping my
self-control. I was like the rider of a frightened horse, rendered almost
wild by something which in the mystery of its voiceless being it has
seen, something on the road which it will not pass, but wildly plunging,
resisting every persuasion, turns from, with ever-increasing passion. The
rider himself after a time becomes infected with this inexplainable
desperation of terror, and I suppose I must have done so; but for a time
I kept the upper hand. I would not allow myself to spring up as I wished,
as my impulse was, but sat there doggedly, clinging to my books, to my
table, fixing myself on I did not mind what, to resist the flood of
sensation, of emotion, which was sweeping through me, carrying me away. I
tried to continue my calculations. I tried to stir myself up with
recollections of the miserable sights I had seen, the poverty, the
helplessness. I tried to work myself into indignation; but all through
these efforts I felt the contagion growing upon me, my mind falling into
sympathy with all those straining faculties of the body, startled,
excited, driven wild by something, I knew not what. It was not fear. I
was like a ship at sea straining and plunging against wind and tide, but
I was not afraid. I am obliged to use these metaphors, otherwise I could
give no explanation of my condition, seized upon against my will, and
torn from all those moorings of reason to which I clung with desperation,
as long as I had the strength.

When I got up from my chair at last, the battle was lost, so far as my
powers of self-control were concerned. I got up, or rather was dragged
up, from my seat, clutching at these material things round me as with a
last effort to hold my own. But that was no longer possible; I was
overcome. I stood for a moment looking round me feebly, feeling myself
begin to babble with stammering lips, which was the alternative of
shrieking, and which I seemed to choose as a lesser evil. What I said
was, "What am I to do?" and after a while, "What do you want me to do?"
although throughout I saw no on