But Julian was too much excited to answer.  His eyes were blazing with joy and with emotion.  And Valentine seemed still to be informed with a curious, serpentine lassitude.  The life seemed to be only very gently running again over his body, creeping from the centre, from the heart, to the extremities, gradually growing in the eyes, stronger and stronger, a dawn of life in a full-grown man.  Dr. Levillier had never seen anything quite like it before.  There was something violently unnatural about it, he thought, yet he could not say what.  He could only stand by the broad couch, fascinated by the spectacle under his gaze.  Once he had read a tale of the revivifying of a mummy in a museum.  That might have been like this; or the raising of Lazarus.  The streams of strength almost visibly trickled through Valentine’s veins.  And this new life was so vigorous, so alert.  It was as if during his strange sleep Valentine had been carpentering his energies, polishing his powers, setting the temple of his soul in order, gaining almost a ruthlessness from rest.  He stretched his limbs now as an athlete might stretch them to win the full consciousness of their muscular force.  When the doctor took hold of his hand to feel his pulse the hand was hard and tense like iron, the fingers gripped for a moment like thin bands of steel, and the life in the blue eyes bounded, raced, swirled as water swirls in a mill-stream.  Indeed, Dr. Levillier felt as if there was too much life in them, as if the cup had been filled with wine until the wine ran over.  He put his fingers on the pulse.  It was strong and rapid and did not fluctuate, but beat steadily.  He felt the heart.  That, too, throbbed strongly.  And while he made his examination Valentine smiled at him.

“I’m all right, you see,” Valentine said.

“All right,” the doctor echoed, still possessed by the feeling that there lurked almost a danger in this apparently abounding health.

“What was it all?” Julian asked eagerly.  “Was it a trance?”

“A trance?” Valentine said.  “Yes, I suppose so.”

He put his feet to the floor, stood up, and again stretched all his limbs.  His eyes fell upon Rip, who was still in the corner, huddled up, his teeth showing, his eyes almost starting out of his head.

“Rip,” he said, holding out his hand and slapping his knee, “come here!  Come along!  Rip!  Rip!  What’s the matter with him?”

“He thought you were dead,” said Julian.  “Poor little chap.  Rip, it’s all right.  Come!”

But the dog refused to be pacified, and still displayed every symptom of angry fear.  At last Valentine, weary of calling the dog, went towards it and stooped to pick it up.  At the downward movement of its master the dog shrank back, gathered itself together, then suddenly sprang forward with a harsh snarl and tried to fasten its teeth in his face.  Valentine jumped back just in time.

“He must have gone mad,” he exclaimed.  “Julian, see what you can do with him.”