"I see you're no judge of a picture," said he, good-humoredly,
putting down the candle, and stepping in front of Lucian. who
regarded him haughtily, and did not budge. "But just look at it in
this way. Suppose you wanted to hit me the most punishing blow you
possibly could. What would you do? Why, according to your own
notion, you'd make a great effort. 'The more effort the more force,'
you'd say to yourself. 'I'll smash him even if I burst myself in
doing it.' And what would happen then? You'd only cut me and make me
angry, besides exhausting all your strength at one gasp. Whereas, if
you took it easy--like this--" Here he made a light step forward and
placed his open palm gently against the breast of Lncian, who
instantly reeled back as if the piston-rod of a steam-engine had
touched him, and dropped into the chair.
"There!" exclaimed Cashel, standing aside and pointing to him. "It's
like pocketing a billiard-ball!"
A chatter of surprise, amusement, and remonstrance spread through
the rooms; and the company crowded towards the table. Lucian rose,
white with rage, and for a moment entirely lost his self-control.
Fortunately, the effect was to paralyze him; he neither moved nor
spoke, and only betrayed his condition by his pallor and the hatred
in his expression.
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