As thus, spell-bound and panic-stricken, he stood chained to the soil--his breast heaving, large drops rolling down his brow, and his eyes starting wildly from their sockets--he saw before him, at some distance, gradually shaping itself more and more distinctly to his gaze, a Colossal Shadow,--a shadow that seemed partially borrowed from the human shape, but immeasurably above the human stature, vague, dark, almost formless and differing--he could not tell where or why--not only from the proportions, but also from the limbs and outline of man.
The glare of the volcano, that seemed to shrink and collapse from this gigantic and appalling apparition, nevertheless threw its light, redly and steadily, upon another shape that stood beside, quiet and motionless; and it was perhaps the contrast of these two things--the Being and the Shadow--that impressed the beholder with the difference between them,--the Man and the Superhuman.

It was but for a moment, nay, for the tenth part of a moment, that this sight was permitted to the wanderer.

A second eddy of sulphureous vapors from the volcano, yet more rapidly, yet more densely than its predecessor, rolled over the mountain; and either the nature of the exhalation, or the excess of his own dread, was such that Glyndon, after one wild gasp for breath, fell senseless on the earth..