soothing to my self-love than that suggested by Utis, which amounted, in fact, to a quasi acknowledgment of monomania, if not mild lunacy.
Hulmar seemed not in the least surprised by my acknowledgment of the resemblance of my case to that of Metis. He merely nodded with a satisfied expression, that seemed to say, "Exactly as I expected." Reva, on the other hand, regarded me with a sort of awed silence. The idea was too strange to become at once familiar.
"As early as yesterday morning," said Hulmar, "a remark of yours first suggested to me the startling idea, that yours is one of those extraordinary experiences like that of Metis. Your wonderfully accurate acquaintance with the life and thought of so distant an age, a knowledge that did not, however, seem to come down beyond a certain date; your comparative want of knowledge of the present age,—all tended to the same conclusion.
"Yours is a strange, and, I may say, enviable experience," he continued, regarding me with something of the same awe that I had remarked in the countenance of Reva. "You enjoy the rare privilege,—so rare, indeed, that the reality of its occurrence has been generally doubted,—the privilege of being able to compare, by personal experience, the condition of our race at widely separated periods of time. How much would I give to enjoy the same privilege! Yet you may feel assured, that I fully appreciate the privilege, inferior only to yours,—that of enjoying the society and conversation of such a one."
As he uttered these words with an earnest enthusiasm, that showed how thoroughly convinced was the speaker
