CHAPTER XVII.

Aucu. Thou always speakest riddles. Tell me if thou art that fountain of which Bernard Lord Trevizan writ ? Merc. Iam not that fountain, but Iam the water. The fountain compasseth me about. Sanpivoeius, New Light of Alchymy.
Tue Prince di was not a man whom Naples could suppose to be addicted to superstitious fancies. Still, in the South of Italy, there was then, and there still lingers a certain spirit of credulity, which may, ever and anon, be visible amidst the boldest dogmas of their phiiosophers and sceptics. In his childhood, the prince had learned strange tales of the ambition, the genius, and the career of his grandsire, — and secretly, perhaps influenced by ancestral example, in earlier youth he him- self had followed science, not only through her legiti- mate course, but her antiquated and erratic windings. I have, indeed, been shown in Naples a little volume, blazoned with the arms of the Visconti, and ascribed to the nobleman I refer to, which treats of alchemy ina spirit half-mocking and half-reverential.
Pleasure soon distracted him from such speculations, and his talents, which were unquestionably great, were wholly perverted to extravagant intrigues, or to the embellishment of a gorgeous ostentation with something of classic grace. His immense wealth, his imperious pride, his unscrupulous and daring character, made him an object of no inconsiderable fear to a feeble and timid court; and the ministers of the indolent government
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willingly connived at excesses which allured him at least from ambition. The strange visit and yet more strange departure of Mejnour filled the breast of the Neapol- itan with awe and wonder, against which all the haughty arrogance and learned scepticism of his maturer manhood combated in vain. The apparition of Mejnour served, indeed, to invest Zanoni with a character in which the prince had not hitherto regarded him. He felt a strange alarm at the rival he had braved, — at the foe he had provoked. When, a little before his banquet, he had resumed his self-possession, it was with a fell and gloomy resolution that he brooded over the perfidious schemes he had previously formed. He felt as if the death of the mysterious Zanoni were necessary for the preser- vation of his own life; and if at an earlier period of their rivalry he had determined on the fate of Zanoni, the warnings of Mejnour only served to confirm his resolve.
“We will try if his magic can invent an antidote to the bane,” said he, half-aloud, and with a stern smile, as he summoned Mascari to his presence. The poison which the prince, with his own hands, mixed into the wine intended for his guest, was compounded from mate- rials, the secret of which had been one of the proudest heir-looms of that able and evil race which gave to Italy her wisest and guiltiest tyrants. Its operation was quick yet not sudden: it produced no pain, — it left on the form no grim convulsion, on the skin no purpling spot, to arouse suspicion; you might have cut and carved every membrane and fibre of the corpse, but the sharpest eyes of the leech would not have detected the presence of the subtle life-queller. For twelve hours the victim felt nothing save a joyous and elated exhilaration of the blood; a delicious languor followed, the sure forerunner of apoplexy. No lancet then could save! Apoplexy
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had run much in the families of the enemies of the Visconti!
The hour of the feast arrived, — the guests assembled. There were the flower of the Neapolitan seignorie, the descendants of the Norman, the Teuton, the Goth; for Naples had then a nobility, but derived it from the North, which has indeed been the Nutrix Leonum, — the nurse of the lion-hearted chivalry of the world.
Last of the guests came Zanoni; and the crowd gave way as the dazzling foreigner moved along to the lord of the palace. The prince greeted him with a meaning smile, to which Zanoni answered by a whisper, “ He who plays with loaded dice does not always win.”
The prince bit his lip, and Zanoni, passing on, seemed deep in conversation with the fawning Mascari.
“ Who is the prince’s heir? ” asked the guest.
“A distant relation on the mother’s side; with his Excellency dies the male line.”
“Ts the heir present at our host’s banquet? ”
“No; they are not friends.”
“No matter; he will be here to-morrow.”
Mascari stared in surprise; but the signal for the banquet was given, and the guests were marshalled to the board. As was the custom then, the feast took place not long after mid-day. It was a long, oval hall, the whole of one side opening by a marble colonnade upon a court or garden, in which the eye rested gratefully upon cool fountains and statues of whitest marble, half- sheltered by orange-trees. Every art that luxury could invent to give freshness and coolness to the languid and breezeless heat of the day without (a day on which the breath of the sirocco was abroad) had been called into existence. Artificial currents of air through invisible tubes, silken blinds waving to and fro, as if to cheat
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the senses into the belief of an April wind, and minia- ture jets d’eau in each corner of the apartment, gave to the Italians the same sense of exhilaration and comfort (if I may use the word) which the well-drawn curtains and the blazing hearth afford to the children of colder climes.
The conversation was somewhat more lively and intel- lectual than is common amongst the languid pleasure- hunters of the South; for the prince, himself accom- plished, sought his acquaintance not only amongst the beaux esprits of his own country, but amongst the gay foreigners who adorned and relieved the monotony of the Neapolitan circles. There were present two or three of the brilliant Frenchmen of the old régime, who had already emigrated from the advancing Revolution; and their peculiar turn of thought and wit was well calcu- lated for the meridian of a society that made the dolce far niente at once its philosophy and its faith. The prince, however, was more silent than usual; and when he sought to rouse himself, his spirits were forced and exaggerated. To the manners of his host, those of Zanoni afforded a striking contrast. The bearing of this singular person was at all times characterized by a calm and polished ease, which was attributed by the courtiers to the long habit of society. He could scarcely be called gay; yet few persons more tended to animate the general spirits of a convivial circle. He seemed, by a kind of intuition, to elicit from each companion the qualities in which he most excelled; and if occasion- ally a certain tone of latent mockery characterized his remarks upon the topics on which the conversation fell, it appeared to men who took nothing in earnest to be the language both of wit and wisdom. To the Frenchmen, in particular, there was something startling in his inti
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mate knowledge of the minutest events in their own capital and country, and his profound penetration (evinced but in epigrams and sarcasms) into the eminent characters who were then playing a part upon the great stage of continental intrigue. It was while this conver- sation grew animated, and the feast was at its height, that Glyndon arrived at the palace. The porter, per- ceiving by his dress that he was not one of the invited guests, told him that his Excellency was engaged, and on no account could be disturbed; and Glyndon then, for the first time, became aware how strange and embarrassing was the duty he had taken on himself. To force an entrance into the banquet-hall of a great and powerful noble, surrounded by the rank of Naples, and to arraign him for what to his boon-companions would appear but an act of gallantry, was an exploit that could not fail to be at once ludicrous and impotent. He mused a moment, and, slipping a piece of gold into the porter’s hand, said that he was commissioned to seek the Signor Zanoni upon an errand of life and death, and easily won his way across the court, and into the interior building. He passed up the broad staircase, and the voices and merriment of the revellers smote his ear at a distance. At the entrance of the reception-rooms he found a page, whom he despatched with a message to Zanoni. The page did the errand; and Zanoni, on hearing the whispered name of Glyndon, turned to his host.
“Pardon me, my lord; an English friend of mine, the Signor Glyndon (not unknown by name to your Excellency) waits without, — the business must indeed be urgent on which he has sought me in such an hour. You will forgive my momentary absence.”
' “Nay, signor,” answered the prince, courteously
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but with a sinister smile on his countenance, “ would it not be better for your friend to join us? An English~ man is welcome everywhere; and even were he a Dutch- man, your friendship would invest his presence with attraction. Pray his attendance; we would not spare you even for a moment.”
Zanoni bowed; the page was despatched with all flattering messages to Glyndon, —a seat next to Zanoni was placed for him, and the young Englishman entered.
“You are most welcome, sir. I trust your business to our illustrious guest is of good omen and pleasant import. If you bring evil news, defer it, I pray you.”
Glyndon’s brow was sullen; and he was about to startle the guests by his reply, when Zanoni, touching his arm significantly, whispered in English, “I know why you have sought me. Be silent, and witness what ensues. ” ,
“You know then that Viola, whom you boasted you had the power to save from danger — ”
“Ts in this house! — yes. I know also that Murder sits at the right hand of our host. But his fate is now separated from hers forever; and the mirror which glasses it to my eye is clear through the streams of blood. Be still, and learn the fate that awaits the wicked!
“ My lord,” said Zanoni, speaking aloud, “ the Signor Glyndon has indeed brought me tidings not wholly unexpected. I am compelled to leave Naples, — an additional motive to make the most of the present hour.”
“And what, if I may venture to ask, may be the cause that brings such affliction on the fair dames of Naples? ”
“It is the approaching death of one who honored me
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with most loyal friendship,” replied Zanoni, gravely. “Let us not speak of it; grief cannot put back the dial. As we supply by new flowers those that fade in our vases, so it is the secret of worldly wisdom to replace by fresh friendships those that fade from our path.”
“True philosophy! ” exclaimed the prince. “* Not to admire,’ was the Roman’s maxim; ‘ Never to mourn,’ is mine. There is nothing in life to grieve for, save, indeed, Signor Zanoni, when some young beauty, on whom we have set our hearts, slips from our grasp. In such a moment we have need of all our wisdom, not to succumb to despair, and shake hands with death. What say you, signor? You smile! Such never could be your lot. Pledge me in a sentiment, ‘ Long life to the fortunate lover,—a quick release to the baffled suitor ’?”
“T pledge you,” said Zanoni; and, as the fatal wine was poured into his glass, he repeated, fixing his eyes on the prince, “ I pledge you even in this wine! ”
He lifted the glass to his lips. The prince seemed ghastly pale, while the gaze of his guest bent upon him, with an intent and stern brightness, beneath which the conscience-stricken host cowered and quailed. Not till he had drained his draught, and replaced the glass upon the board, did Zanoni turn his eyes from the prince; and he then said, “ Your wine has been kept too long; it has lost its virtues. It might disagree with many, but do not fear; it will not harm me, prince. Signor Mascari, you are a judge of the grape; will you favor us with your opinion ? ”
“Nay,” answered Mascari, with well-affected com- posure, “I like not the wines of Cyprus; they are heat- ing. Perhaps Signor Glyndon may not have the same
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distaste? The English are said to love their potations warm and pungent.”
“Do you wish my friend also to taste the wine, prince?” said Zanoni. “ Recollect, all cannot drink it with the same impunity as myself.”
“No,” said the prince, hastily; “if you do not recommend the wine, Heaven forbid that we should constrain our guests! My lord duke,” turning to one of the Frenchmen, “ yours is the true soil of Bacchus. What think you of this cask from Burgundy? Has it borne the journey ? ”
“Ah,” said Zanoni, “let us change both the wine and the theme.”
With that, Zanoni grew yet more animated and bril- liant. Never did wit more sparkling, airy, exhilarating, flash from the lips of reveller. His spirits fascinated all present — even the prince himself, even Glyndon — with a strange and wild contagion. The former, indeed, whom the words and gaze of Zanoni, when he drained the poison, had filled with fearful misgivings, now hailed in the brilliant eloquence of his wit a certain sign of the operation of the bane. The wine circulated fast; but none seemed conscious of its effects. One by one the rest of the party fell into a charmed and spell- bound silence, as Zanoni continued to pour forth sally upon sally, tale upon tale. They hung on his words, they almost held their breath to listen. Yet, how bitter was his mirth; how full of contempt for the triflers present, and for the trifles which made their life!
Night came on; the room grew dim, and the feast had lasted several hours longer than was the customary duration of similar entertainments at that day. Still the guests stirred not, and still Zanoni continued, with glit- tering eye and mocking lip, to lavish his stores of intellect
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and anecdote; when suddenly the moon rose, and shed its rays over the flowers and fountains in the court with- out, leaving the room itself half in shadow, and half tinged by a quiet and ghostly light.
It was then that Zanoni rose. “ Well, gentlemen,” said he, “ we have not yet wearied our host, [ hope; and his garden offers a new temptation to protract our stay. Have you no musicians among your train, prince, that might regale our ears while we inhale the fragrance of your orange-trees ? ”
“ An excellent thought!” said the prince. “ Mascari, see to the music.”
The party rose simultaneously to adjourn to the garden; and then, for the first time, the effect of the wine they had drunk seemed to make itself felt.
With flushed cheeks and unsteady steps they came into the open air, which tended yet more to stimulate that glowing fever of the grape. As if to make up for the silence with which the guests had hitherto listened to Zanoni, every tongue was now loosened, — every man talked, no man listened. There was something wild and fearful in the contrast between the calm beauty of the night and scene, and the hubbub and clamor of these disorderly roysters. One of the Frenchmen, in especial, the young Duc de R , a nobleman of the highest rank, and of all the quick, vivacious, and irascible tem- perament of his countrymen, was particularly noisy and excited. And as circumstances, the remembrance of which is still preserved among certain circles of Naples, rendered it afterwards necessary that the duc should himself give evidence of what occurred, I will here trans- late the short account he drew up, and which was kindly submitted to me some few years ago by my accomplished and lively friend, Il Cavaliere di B
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“T never remember,” writes the duc, “to have felt my spirits so excited as on that evening; we were like so many boys released from school, jostling each other as we reeled or ran down the flight of seven or eight stairs that led from the colonnade into the garden, — some laughing, some whooping, some scolding, some babbling. The wine had bronght out, as it were, each man’s inmost character. Some were loud and quarrelsome, others sentimental and whining; some, whom we had hitherto thought dull, most mirthful; some, whom we had ever regarded as discreet and taciturn, most garrulous and uproarious. I remember that in the midst of our clamorous gayety, my eye fell upon the cavalier Signor Zanoni, whose conversation had so enchanted us all; and I felt a certain chill come over me to perceive that he wore the same calm and unsympathizing smile upon his counte- nance which had characterized it in his singular and curious stories of the court of Louis XIV. I felt, indeed, half-inclined to seek a quarrel with one whose composure was almost an insult to our disorder. Nor was such an effect of this irri- tating and mocking tranquillity confined to myself alone. Several of the party have told me since, that on looking at Zanoni they felt their blood yet more heated, and gayety change to resentment. There seemed in his icy smile a very charm to wound vanity and provoke rage. It was at this moment that the prince came up to me, and, passing his arm into mine, led me a little apart from the rest. He had certainly indulged in the same excess as ourselves, but it did not produce the same effect of noisy excitement. There was, on the contrary, a certain cold arrogance and supercilious scorn in his bearing and language, which, even while affecting so much caressing courtesy towards me, roused my self-love against him. He seemed as if Zanoni had infected him; and in imitating the manner of his guest, he surpassed the original. He rallied me on some court gossip, which had honored my name by associating it with a certain beautiful and distinguished Sicilian lady, and affected to treat with contempt that which, had it been true, I should have regarded asa boast. He spoke, indeed, as if he himself had gathered
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all the flowers of Naples, and left us foreigners only the gleanings he had scorned. At this my natural and national gallantry was piqued, and I retorted by some sarcasms that I should certainly have spared had my blood been cooler. He laughed heartily, and left mein a strange fit of resentment and anger. Perhaps (I must own the truth) the wine had produced in me a wild disposition to take offence and provoke quarrel. As the prince left me, I turned, and saw Zanoni at my side.
“ that displeased me before. ‘He would monopolize all fortune and all love. Let us take our revenge.’
“¢ And how ??
“¢He has at this moment, in his house, the most enchant- Ing singer in Naples,—the celebrated Viola Pisani. She Is here, it is true, not by her own choice; he carried her hither by force, but he will pretend that she adores him. Let us insist on his producing this secret treasure, and when she enters, the Duc de R can have no doubt that his flatteries and attentions will charm the lady, and provoke all the jealous fears of our host. It would be a fair revenge upon his imperious self-conceit.’
“This suggestion delighted me. I hastened to the prince. At that instant the musicians had just commenced; I waved my hand, ordered the music to stop, and, addressing the prince, who was standing in the centre of one of the gayest groups, complained of his want of hospitality in affording to us such poor proficients in the art, while he reserved for his own solace the lute and voice of the first performer in Naples. I demanded, half-laughingly, half-seriously, that he should produce the Pisani. My demand was received with shouts of applause by the rest. We drowned the replies of our host with uproar, and would hear no denial. ‘Gentlemen,’ at last said the prince, when he could obtain an audience, ‘even were I to assent to your proposal, I could not induce the signora to present herself before an assemblage as riotous as they are noble. You have too much chivalry to use compul-
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forgets himself
sion with her, though the Duc de R sufficiently to administer it to me.’
“TI was stung by this taunt, however well deserved. ‘ Prince,’ said I, ‘I have for the indelicacy of compulsion so illustrious an example that I cannot hesitate to pursue the path honored by your own footsteps. All Naples knows that the Pisani despises at once your gold and your love; that force alone could have brought ber under your roof; and that you refuse to produce her, because you fear her com- plaints, and know enough of the chivalry your vanity sneers at to feel assured that the gentlemen of France are not more disposed to worship beauty than to defend it from wrong.’
“* Vou speak well, sir,’ said Zanoni, gravely. ‘The prince dares not produce his prize !’
“The prince remained speechless for a few moments, as if with indignation. At last he broke out into expressions the most injurious and insulting against Signor Zanoni and myself. Zanoni replied not; I was more hot and hasty. The guests appeared to delight in our dispute. None, except Mascari, whom we pushed aside and disdained to hear, strove to con- ciliate; some took one side, some another. The issue may be well foreseen. Swords were called for and procured. Two were offered me by one of the party. I was about to choose one, when Zanoni placed in my hand the other, which, from its hilt, appeared of antiquated workmanship. At the same moment, looking towards the prince, he said, smilingly, ‘ The duc takes your grandsire’s sword, Prince, you are too brave a man for superstition; you have forgot the forfeit!’ Our host seemed to me to recoil and turn pale at those words ; nevertheless, he returned Zanoni’s smile with a look of defiance. ‘The next moment all was broil and disorder. There might be some six or eight persons engaged in a strange and confused kind of mélée, but the prince and myself only sought each other. The noise around us, the confusion of the guests, the cries of the musicians, the clash of our own swords, only served to stimulate our unhappy fury. We feared to be interrupted by the attendants, and fought like madmen, without skill or method. I thrust and parried
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mechanically, blind and frantic, as if a demon had entered into me, till I saw the prince stretched at my feet, bathed in his blood, and Zanoni bending over him, and whispering in his ear. That sight cooled us all. The strife ceased; we gathered, in shame, remorse, and horror, round our ill-fated host; but it was too late, — his eyes rolled fearfully in his head. I have seen many men die, but never one who wore such horror on his countenance, At last all was over! Zanoni rose from the corpse, and, taking, with great composure, the sword from my hand, said calmly, ‘Ye are witnesses, gentlemen, that the prince brought his fate upon himself, The last of that illus- trious house has perished in a brawl.’
“JT saw no more of Zanoni. I hastened to our envoy to narrate the event, and abide the issue. I am grateful to the Neapolitan government, and to the illustrious heir of the unfortunate nobleman, for the lenient and generous, yet just, interpretation put upon a misfortune the memory of which will afflict me to the last hour of my life.
(Signed) “Louis Victor, Duc pz R.”
In the above memorial, the reader will find the most exact and minute account yet given of an event which created the most lively sensation at Naples in that day.
Glyndon had taken no part in the affray, neither had he participated largely in the excesses of the revel. For his exemption from both he was perhaps indebted to the whispered exhortations of Zanoni. When the last rose from the corpse, and withdrew from that scene of confu- sion, Glyndon remarked that in passing the crowd he touched Mascari on the shoulder, and said something which the Englishman did not overhear. Glyndon followed Zanoni into the banquet-room, which, save where the moonlight slept on the marble floor, was wrapped in the sad and gloomy shadows of the advancing night.
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“ How could you foretell this fearful event? He fell not by your arm!” said Glyndon, in a tremulous and hollow tone.
“The general who calculates on the victory does not fight in person,” answered Zanoni; “let the past sleep with the dead. Meet me at midnight by the sea-shore, half a mile to the left of your hotel. You will know the spot by a rude pillar — the only one near — to which a broken chain is attached. There and then, if thou wouldst learn our lore, thou shalt find the master. Go; I have business here yet. Remember, Viola is still in the house of the dead man!”
Here Mascari approached, and Zanoni, turning to the Italian, and waving his hand to Glyndon, drew the former aside. Glyndon slowly departed.
“Mascari,” said Zanoni, “ your patron is no more; your services will be valueless to his heir, —a sober man whom poverty has preserved from vice. For your- self, thank me that I do not give you up to the executioner; recollect the wine of Cyprus. Well, never tremble, man; it could not act on me, though it might react on others; in that it is a common type of crime. I forgive you; and if the wine should kill me, I promise you that my ghost shall not haunt so worshipful a penitent. Enough of this; conduct me to the chamber of Viola Pisani. You have no further need of her. The death of the jailer opens the cell of the captive. Be quick; I would be gone.”
Mascari muttered some inaudible words, bowed low, and led the way to the chamber in which Viola was confined,
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: CHAPTER XVIII.
Merc. ‘Tell me, therefore, what thou seekest after, and what thou wilt have. What dost thou desire to make ?
Aou. The Philosopher’s Stone. Sanpivoeius.
Ir wanted several minutes of midnight, and Glyndon repaired to the appointed spot. The mysterious empire which Zanoni had acquired over him, was still more solemnly confirmed by the events of the last few hours; the sudden fate of the prince, so deliberately fore- shadowed, and yet so seemingly accidental, brought out by causes the most commonplace, and yet associated with words the most prophetic, impressed him with the deepest sentiments of admiration and awe. It was as if this dark and wondrous being could convert the most ordinary events and the meanest instruments into the agencies of his inscrutable will; yet, if so, why have permitted the capture of Viola? Why not have pre- vented the crime rather than punish the criminal? And did Zanoni really feel love for Viola? Love, and yet offer to resign her to himself, — to a rival whom his arts could not have failed to baffle. He no longer reverted to the belief that Zanoni or Viola had sought to dupe him into marriage. His fear and reverence for the former now forbade the notion of so poor an imposture. Did he any longer love Viola himself? No; when that morning he had heard of her danger, he had, it is true, returned to the sympathies and the fears of affection; but with the
death of the prince her image faded again from his heart, 1a
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and he felt no jealous pang at the thought that she had been saved by Zanoni, — that at that moment she was perhaps beneath his roof. Whoever has, in the course of his life, indulged the absorbing passion of the gamester, will remember how all other pursuits and objects vanished from his mind; how solely he was wrapped in the one wild delusion; with what a sceptre of magic power the despot-demon ruled every feeling and every thought. Far more intense than the passion of the gamester was the frantic yet sublime desire that mastered the breast of Glyndon. He would be the rival of Zanoni, not in human and perishable affections, but in preternatural and eternal lore. He would have laid down life with content — nay, rapture —as the price of learning those solemn secrets which separated the stranger from mankind. Enamoured of the goddess of goddesses, he stretched forth his arms — the wild Ixion — and embraced a cloud!
The night was most lovely and serene, and the waves scarcely rippled at his feet as the Englishman glided on by the cool and starry beach. At length he arrived at the spot, and there, leaning against the broken pillar, he beheld a man wrapped in a long mantle, and in an attitude of profound repose. He approached, and uttered the name of Zanoni. The figure turned, and he saw the face of a stranger: a face not stamped by the glorious beauty of Zanoni, but equally majestic in its aspect, and perhaps still more impressive from the mature age and the passionless depth of thought that characterized the expanded forehead, and deep-set but piercing eyes.
“You seek Zanoni,” said the stranger; “he will be here anon; but, perhaps, he whom you see before you is more connected with your destiny, and more disposed te realize your dreams.”
“ Hath the earth, then, another Zanoni? ”
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“If not,” replied the stranger, “why do you cherish the hope and the wild faith to be yourself a Zanoni} Think you that none others have burned with the same godlike dream? Who, indeed, in his first youth, — youth when the soul is nearer to the heaven from which it sprang, and its divine and primal longings are not all effaced by the sordid passions and petty cares that are begot in time, — who is there in youth that has not nourished the belief that the universe has secrets not known to the common herd, and panted, as the hart for the water-springs, for the fountains that lie hid and far away amidst the broad wilderness of trackless science ? The music of the fountain is heard in the soul withzn, till the steps, deceived and erring, rove away from its waters, and the wanderer dies in the mighty desert. Think you that none who have cherished the hope have found the truth, or that the yearning after the Ineffable Knowledge was given to us utterly in vain? No! Every desire in human hearts is but a glimpse of things that exist, alike distant and divine. No! in the world there have been from age to age some brighter and happier spirits who have attained to the air in which the beings above mankind move and breathe. Zanoni, great though he be, stands not alone. He has had his pre- decessors, and long lines of successors may be yet to come.”
“And will you tell me,” said Glyndon, “that in yourself I behold one of that mighty few over whom Zanoni has no superiority in power and wisdom ? ”
“Tn me,” answered the stranger, “you see one from whom Zanoni himself learned some of his loftiest secrets. On these shores, on this spot, have I stood in ages that your chroniclers but feebly reach. The Pheenician, the Greek, the Oscan, the Roman, the Lombard, I have seen
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them all! — leaves gay and glittering on the trunk of the universal life, scattered in due season and again renewed; till, indeed, the same race that gave its glory to the ancient world bestowed a second youth upon the new. For the pure Greeks, the Hellenes, whose origin has bewildered your dreaming scholars, were of the same great family as the Norman tribe, born to be the lords of the universe, and in no land on earth destined to become the hewers of wood. Even the dim traditions of the learned, which bring the sons of Hellas from the vast and undetermined territories of Northern Thrace, to be the victors of the pastoral Pelasgi, and the founders of the line of demi-gods; which assign to a population bronzed beneath the suns of the West, the blue-eyed Minerva and the yellow-haired Achilles (physical characteristics of the North); which introduce, amongst a pastoral people, warlike aristocracies and limited monarchies, the feudal- ism of the classic time, — even these might serve you to trace back the primeval settlements of the Hellenes to the same region whence, in later times, the Norman warriors broke on the dull and savage hordes of the Celt, and became the Greeks of the Christian world. But this interests you not, and you are wise in your indifference. Not in the knowledge of things without, but in tho perfection of the soul within, lies the empire of man aspiring to be more than man.”
“And what books contain that science; from what laboratory is it wrought? ”
“ Nature supplies the materials; they are around you in your daily walks. In the herbs that the beast devours and the chemist disdains to cull; in the ele- ments from which matter in its meanest and its might- iest shapes is deduced; in the wide bosom of the air; in the black abysses of the earth; everywhere are given ta
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mortals the resources and libraries of immortal lore. But as the simplest problems in the simplest of all studies are obscure to one who braces not his mind to their comprehension ; as the rower in yonder vessel can- not tell you why two circles can touch each other only in one point, — so though all earth were carved over and inscribed with the letters of diviner knowledge, the characters would be valueless to him who does not pause to inquire the language and meditate the truth. Young man, if thy imagination is vivid, if thy heart is daring, if thy curiosity is insatiate, I will accept thee as my pupil. But the first lessons are stern and dread.”
“Tf thou hast mastered them, why not 1?” answered Glyndon, boldly. “I have felt from my boyhood that strange mysteries were reserved for my career; and from the proudest ends of ordinary ambition I have carried my gaze into the cloud and darkness that stretch beyond. The instant I beheld Zanoni, I felt as if I had discoy- ered the guide and the tutor for which my youth had idly languished and vainly burned.”
“And to me his duty is transferred,” replied the stranger. “ Yonder lies, anchored in the bay, the vessel in which Zanoni seeks a fairer home; a little while and the breeze will rise, the sail will swell, and the stranger will have passed, like a wind, away. Still, like the wind, he leaves in thy heart the seeds that may bear the blossom and the fruit. Zanoni hath performed his task,— he is wanted no more; the per- fecter of his work is at thy side. He comes! I hear the dash of the oar. You will have your choice sub- mitted to you. According as you decide we shall meet again.” With these words the stranger moved slowly away, and disappeared beneath the shadow of the cliffs. A boat glided rapidly across the waters: it touched
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land; a man leaped on shore, and Glyndon recognizea Zanoni.
“T give thee, Glyndon, —I give thee no more the option of happy love and serene enjoyment. That hour is past, and fate has linked the hand that might have been thine own to mine. But I have ample gifts to bestow upon thee, if thou wilt abandon the hope that gnaws thy heart, and the realization of which even J have not the power to foresee. Be thine ambition human, and I can gratify it to the full. Men desire four things in life, — love, wealth, fame, power. The first I cannot give thee, the rest are at my disposal. Select which of them thou wilt, and let us part in peace.”
“Such are not the gifts I covet. I choose knowledge; that knowledge must be thine own. For this, and for this alone, I surrendered the love of Viola; this, and this alone, must be my recompense.”
“TI cannot gainsay thee, though I can warn. The desire to learn does not always contain the faculty to acquire. I can give thee, it is true, the teacher, — the rest must depend on thee. Be wise in time, and take that which I can assure to thee.”
“ Answer me but these questions, and according to your answer I will decide. Is it in the power of man to attain intercourse with the beings of other worlds? Is it in the power of man to influence the elements, and to insure life against the sword and against disease ? ”
“All this may be possible,” answered Zanoni, eva- sively, “to the few; but for one who attains such secrets, millions may perish in the attempt.”
“One question more. Thou —”
“Beware! Of myself, as I have said before, I render no account,”
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“Well, then, the stranger I have met this night, — are his boasts to be believed? Is he in truth one of the chosen seers whom you allow to have mastered the mysteries I yearn to fathom ? ”
“Rash man,” said Zanoni, in a tone of compassion, “thy crisis is past, and thy choice made! I can only bid thee be bold and prosper; yes, I resign thee to a master who has the power and the will to open to thee the gates of an awful world. Thy weal or woe are as nought in the eyes of his relentless wisdom. I would bid him spare thee, but he will heed me not. Mejnour, receive thy pupil!” Glyndon turned, and his heart beat when he perceived that the stranger, whose footsteps he had not heard upon the pebbles, whose approach he had not beheld in the moonlight, was once more by his side.
“Farewell,” resumed Zanoni; “ thy trial commences. When next we meet, thou wilt be the victim or the victor.”
Glyndon’s eyes followed the receding form of the mysterious stranger. He saw him enter the boat, and he then for the first time noticed that besides the rowers there was a female, who stood up as Zanoni gained the boat. Even at the distance he recognized the once- adored form of Viola. She waved her hand to him, and across the still and shining air came her voice, mourn- fully and sweetly, in her mother’s tongue, “ Farewell, Clarence, — I forgive thee! — farewell, farewell! ”
He strove to answer; but the voice touched a chord at his heart, and the words failed him. Viola was then lost forever, gone with this dread stranger; darkness was round her lot! And he himself had decided her fate and his own! The boat bounded on, the soft waves flashed and sparkled beneath the oars, and it was along
248 ZANONI.
one sapphire track of moonlight that the frail vessel bore away the lovers. Farther and farther from his gaze sped the boat, till at last the speck, scarcely visible, touched the side of the ship that lay lifeless in the glorious bay. At that instant, as if by magic, up sprang, with a glad murmur, the playful and freshening wind: and Glyndon turned to Mejnour and broke the silence.
“ Tell me — if thou canst read the future — tell me that hex lot will be fair, and that her choice at least is wise?”
“My pupil! ” answered Mejnour, ina voice the calm- ness of which well accorded with the chilling words, “thy first task must be to withdraw all thought, feeling, sympathy from others. The elementary stage of knowl- edge is to make self, and self alone, thy study and thy world. Thou hast decided thine own career; thou hast renounced love; thou hast rejected wealth, fame, and the vulgar pomps of power. What, then, are all man- kind to thee? To perfect thy faculties, and concentrate thy emotions, is henceforth thy only aim! ”
“ And will happiness be the end? ”
“If happiness exist,” answered Mejnour, “it must be centred in a seLF to which all passion is unknown. But happiness is the last state of being; and as yet thou art on the threshold of the first.”
As Mejnour spoke, the distant vessel spread its sails to the wind, and moved slowly along the deep. Glyn- don sighed, and the pupil and the master retraced their steps towards the city.