It was a vicious face,
except that beauty could never be quite vicious; it was a cruel face,
except that indolence could never be quite cruel. It was a face that
haunted you, and yet your admiration was alloyed with an unreasoning
terror. The hands were nervous and adroit, with long fashioning fingers;
and you felt that at their touch the clay almost moulded itself into
gracious forms. With Haddo's subtle words the character of that man rose
before her, cruel yet indifferent, indolent and passionate, cold yet
sensual; unnatural secrets dwelt in his mind, and mysterious crimes, and
a lust for the knowledge that was arcane. Oliver Haddo was attracted by
all that was unusual, deformed, and monstrous, by the pictures that
represented the hideousness of man or that reminded you of his mortality.
He summoned before Margaret the whole array of Ribera's ghoulish dwarfs,
with their cunning smile, the insane light of their eyes, and their
malice: he dwelt with a horrible fascination upon their malformations,
the humped backs, the club feet, the hydrocephalic heads.
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