How we cite our quotes: (Chapter, Paragraph)
Quote #7
In the middle of the gentleman's cabin burned a solar lamp, swung from the ceiling, and whose shade of ground glass was all round fancifully variegated, in transparency, with the image of a horned altar, from which flames rose, alternate with the figure of a robed man, his head encircled by a halo. The light of this lamp, after dazzlingly striking on marble, snow-white and round—the slab of a centre-table beneath—on all sides went rippling off with ever-diminishing distinctness, till, like circles from a stone dropped in water, the rays died dimly away in the furthest nook of the place. (45, 1)
The devil, right? That's what's on the lamp, right? Creepy altar in flames, horns, a robed dude—we've got all the bells and whistles of traditional depictions of Satan. What about the halo, you ask? That's usually featured over the heads of saints and angels in paintings, right? Well, just as a reminder, Lucifer was totes an angel before he was the king of hell, so maybe this fancy lamp is just all about iconic symbol accuracy—and complication. Oh, yeah, Lucifer was also the angel of light, and this is a lamp that casts some serious rays around the room. Just sayin'.
Quote #8
The next moment, the waning light expired, and with it the waning flames of the horned altar, and the waning halo round the robed man's brow; while in the darkness which ensued, the cosmopolitan kindly led the old man away. Something further may follow of this Masquerade. (45, 134)
What happens when the lights go out? We don't know. No joke, this is a mystery, and it's the end of the book. We know Frank the cosmopolitan is leading the old man away, but is he really going to take him safely to his sleeping quarters? We hope so. What's worrying us, though—besides the possibility of the presence of the devil—is the suggestion there is more of the capital-M Masquerade to follow. Who's masquerading? Frank? All the con-artists? Were they all one dude (the devil)? What did we just read?
Quote #9
These questions were put to a boy in the fragment of an old linen coat, bedraggled and yellow, who, coming in from the deck barefooted on the soft carpet, had been unheard. All pointed and fluttering, the rags of the little fellow's red-flannel shirt, mixed with those of his yellow coat, flamed about him like the painted flames in the robes of a victim in auto-da-fe. His face, too, wore such a polish of seasoned grime, that his sloe-eyes sparkled from out it like lustrous sparks in fresh coal. (45, 33)
Supernatural jackpot over here. Creepy silent kid? Check. Red and yellow outfit fluttering up like hellish flames? Check. Coal-dark, fire-sparkling hellion gleam in his eye? Check. There's a shout-out to an auto-da-fé. What's that? Well, during the Spanish Inquisition, this "act of faith" was a ritual punishing of a person accused of being a heretic. Favorite punishment of the time? Burning at the stake, of course. So what does this reference mean? Is the kid a heretic, a witch, a victim of religious fanaticism, or something demonic? The world may never know. But we're definitely supposed to wonder about it.