A ghost, though invisible, still is like a placeyour sight can knock on, echoing; but herewithin this thick black pelt, your strongest gazewill be absorbed and utterly disappear:just as a raving madman, when nothing elsecan ease him, charges into his dark nighthowling, pounds on the padded wall, and feelsthe rage being taken in and pacified.
She seems to hide all looks that have ever falleninto her, so that, like an audience,she can look them over, menacing and sullen,and curl to sleep with them.
But all at onceas if awakened, she turns her face to yours;and with a shock, you see yourself, tiny,inside the golden amber of her eyeballssuspended, like a prehistoric fly.
