Never before had that curious power of attraction failed him.

He felt himself to be so strong in this respect that he was persuaded if he exerted himself to the limit of his capacity, something--he could not say what--must come of it.

If it was only a self-delusion, an hallucination, he told himself that he would be content.
Almost of its own accord, his distorted mind concentrated itself again, every thought, all the power of his will riveting themselves upon Angele.

As if she were alive, he summoned her to him.

His eyes, fixed upon the name cut into the headstone, contracted, the pupils growing small, his fists shut tight, his nerves braced rigid.
For a few seconds he stood thus, breathless, expectant, awaiting the manifestation, the Miracle.