The scene before him seemed strangely confused; he heard nothing of what was going on, he was either silent, or his answers were wide of the mark. All at once his mood changed: he sought in his champagne glass for forgetfulness,—for that he was too excited; but it brought a wild and desperate gaiety,—his laugh was the loudest, his jest the readiest, and none did such deep justice to every toast: but within was the quick, aching sense of misery.
It is a strange thing, but so it is, that very brilliant spirits are almost always the result of mental suffering, like the fever produced by a wound. I sometimes doubt tears, I oftener doubt lamentations; but I never yet doubt the existence of that misery which flushes the cheek and kindles the eye, and which makes the lip mock, with sparkling words, the dark and hidden world within.
There is something in intense suffering that seeks concealment, something that is fain to belie itself. In Cooper's novel of the "Bravo," Jacques conceals himself and his boat, by lying where the moonlight fell dazzling on the water.
