receding thoughts are the
direct result.

In the phrase, "How are you, etc.," my reason dictated this triple,
parallel movement: Advancing the head, and the arms, with the torso on
the fore-leg. Now, the similar phrase, "How are you, dear cousin,"
although uttered in a situation identical with that of papa Dugrand,
produced phenomena diametrically opposed to those that my reason had
said were the only ones admissible. Is it not reasonable to suppose that
the sight of an agreeable or loved object will excite in us a genuine
feeling that before we had vainly striven to simulate? Does it not seem
natural to extend the hand to a friend when, with affectionate surprise,
we exclaim: "How are you, dear friend?" And should we ever think of
drawing the body away from the object that attracts us? Finally, does it
not seem that the head should be raised, the better to see that which
charms us?

Ah, no! All these things, apparently so true and so perfectly clear,
are radically false. Facts prove this beyond a doubt, and with facts
there can be on discussion, no argument. We must admit them _a priori_
or renounce the truth. Here, as in all questions of principle, _the
greatest act of reason consists in an act of faith_. This is absolutely
undeniable.

In the phrase, "How are you, papa Dugrand," the arms should be raised,
the head lowered and the torso thrown back, supporting itself on the
back leg. This was indeed a blow to the presumption of my poor reason,
but should it complain? No, for it has gained even from its confusion
most fruitful instruction.

Let us see. In questioning the effects and the analogy, we shall
doubtless explain their reason of being. Why should the head become
lowered? I do not see all at first sight; but let us generalize the
question and probably it will specify itself.

When does a man bow his head before the object which strikes his eye?

When he considers or examines it.

Does he never consider things with head raised?

Yes, when he considers them with a feeling of pride. It is thus that he
rules them or exalts them; and also when he questions them with his
glance; in fine, when what he sees astonishes or surprises him.

This last statement contradicts the example in question, and seems to
condemn it. Not the least in the world. How is this? Thus: when the
astonishment or the surprise is not intense enough to shake the frame,
the head wherein all the surprise is concentrated, is lifted and
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