Since he had first met Faria, everything about the man had spoken of such reasoning, such grandeur, such logical consistency, that he could not understand how this supreme wisdom over all others could be combined with unreason about this one single matter: was it that Faria was wrong about his treasure, or that everyone else was wrong about Faria?
All was so rational, so grand, so logical, with Faria, since he had known him, that he could not understand how so much wisdom on all points could be allied to madness in any one;—was Faria decided as to his treasure, or was all the world decided as to Faria?
