A Romance of Two Worlds

A NOVEL. 

BY

MARIE CORELLI, Author of "Thelma, " "Ardath, " "Vendetta, " Etc. 

CONTENTS

 PROLOGUE I. AN ARTIST'S STUDIO. II. THE MYSTERIOUS POTION. III. THREE VISIONS. IV. A DANCE AND A PROMISE. V. CELLINI'S STORY. VI. THE HOTEL MARS AND ITS OWNER. VII. ZARA AND PRINCE IVAN. VIII. A SYMPHONY IN THE AIR. IX. AN ELECTRIC SHOCK. X. MY STRANGE DEPARTURE. XI. A MINIATURE CREATION. XII. SECRETS OF THE SUN AND MOON. XIII. SOCIABLE CONVERSE. XIV. THE ELECTRIC CREED. XV. DEATH BY LIGHTNING. XVI. A STRUGGLE FOR THE MASTERY. XVII. CONCLUSION. APPENDIX

A ROMANCE OF TWO WORLDS. 

PROLOGUE. 

We live in an age of universal inquiry, ergo of universal scepticism. The prophecies of the poet, the dreams of the philosopher andscientist, are being daily realized--things formerly considered merefairy-tales have become facts--yet, in spite of the marvels of learningand science that are hourly accomplished among us, the attitude ofmankind is one of disbelief. "There is no God!" cries one theorist; "orif there be one, _I_ can obtain no proof of His existence!" "There isno Creator!" exclaims another. "The Universe is simply a rushingtogether of atoms. " "There can be no immortality, " asserts a third. "Weare but dust, and to dust we shall return. " "What is called byidealists the SOUL, " argues another, "is simply the vital principlecomposed of heat and air, which escapes from the body at death, andmingles again with its native element. A candle when lit emits flame;blow out the light, the flame vanishes--where? Would it not be madnessto assert the flame immortal? Yet the soul, or vital principle of humanexistence, is no more than the flame of a candle. "

If you propound to these theorists the eternal question WHY?--why isthe world in existence? why is there a universe? why do we live? why dowe think and plan? why do we perish at the last?--their grandiose replyis, "Because of the Law of Universal Necessity. " They cannot explainthis mysterious Law to themselves, nor can they probe deep enough tofind the answer to a still more tremendous WHY--namely, WHY, is there aLaw of Universal Necessity?--but they are satisfied with the result oftheir reasonings, if not wholly, yet in part, and seldom try to searchbeyond that great vague vast Necessity, lest their finite brains shouldreel into madness worse than death. Recognizing, therefore, that inthis cultivated age a wall of scepticism and cynicism is graduallybeing built up by intellectual thinkers of every nation against allthat treats of the Supernatural and Unseen, I am aware that mynarration of the events I have recently experienced will be read withincredulity. At a time when the great empire of the Christian Religionis being assailed, or politely ignored by governments and publicspeakers and teachers, I realize to the fullest extent how daring isany attempt to prove, even by a plain history of strange occurrenceshappening to one's self, the actual existence of the Supernaturalaround us; and the absolute certainty of a future state of being, afterthe passage through that brief soul-torpor in which the body perishes, known to us as Death. 

In the present narration, which I have purposely called a "romance, " Ido not expect to be believed, as I can only relate what I myself haveexperienced. I know that men and women of to-day must have proofs, orwhat they are willing to accept as proofs, before they will creditanything that purports to be of a spiritual tendency;--somethingstartling--some miracle of a stupendous nature, such as according toprophecy they are all unfit to receive. Few will admit the subtleinfluence and incontestable, though mysterious, authority exercisedupon their lives by higher intelligences than their own--intelligencesunseen, unknown, but felt. Yes! felt by the most careless, the mostcynical; in the uncomfortable prescience of danger, the innerforebodings of guilt--the moral and mental torture endured by those whofight a protracted battle to gain the hardly-won victory in themselvesof right over wrong--in the thousand and one sudden appeals madewithout warning to that compass of a man's life, Conscience--and inthose brilliant and startling impulses of generosity, bravery, andself-sacrifice which carry us on, heedless of consequences, to theperformance of great and noble deeds, whose fame makes the whole worldone resounding echo of glory--deeds that we wonder at ourselves even inthe performance of them--acts of heroism in which mere life goes fornothing, and the Soul for a brief space is pre-eminent, obeying blindlythe guiding influence of a something akin to itself, yet higher in therealms of Thought. 

There are no proofs as to why such things should be; but that they are, is indubitable. The miracles enacted now are silent ones, and areworked in the heart and mind of man alone. Unbelief is nearly supremein the world to-day. Were an angel to descend from heaven in the middleof a great square, the crowd would think he had got himself up onpulleys and wires, and would try to discover his apparatus. Were he, inwrath, to cast destruction upon them, and with fire blazing from hiswings, slay a thousand of them with the mere shaking of a pinion, thosewho were left alive would either say that a tremendous dynamiteexplosion had occurred, or that the square was built on an extinctvolcano which had suddenly broken out into frightful activity. Anythingrather than believe in angels--the nineteenth century protests againstthe possibility of their existence. It sees no miracle--it pooh-poohsthe very enthusiasm that might work them. 

"Give a positive sign, " it says; "prove clearly that what you say istrue, and I, in spite of my Progress and Atom Theory, will believe. "The answer to such a request was spoken eighteen hundred years and moreago. "A faithless and perverse generation asketh for a sign, and nosign shall be given unto them. "

Were I now to assert that a sign had been given to ME--to me, as oneout of the thousands who demand it--such daring assurance on my partwould meet with the most strenuous opposition from all who peruse thefollowing pages; each person who reads having his own ideas on allsubjects, and naturally considering them to be the best if not the onlyideas worth anything. Therefore I wish it to be plainly understood thatin this book I personally advocate no new theory of either religion orphilosophy; nor do I hold myself answerable for the opinions expressedby any of my characters. My aim throughout is to let facts speak forthemselves. If they seem strange, unreal, even impossible, I can onlysay that the things of the invisible world must always appear so tothose whose thoughts and desires are centred on this life only. 

CHAPTER I. 

AN ARTIST'S STUDIO. 

In the winter of 188-, I was afflicted by a series of nervous ailments, brought on by overwork and overworry. Chief among these was aprotracted and terrible insomnia, accompanied by the utmost depressionof spirits and anxiety of mind. I became filled with the gloomiestanticipations of evil; and my system was strung up by slow degrees tosuch a high tension of physical and mental excitement, that thequietest and most soothing of friendly voices had no other effect uponme than to jar and irritate. Work was impossible; music, my onepassion, intolerable; books became wearisome to my sight; and even ashort walk in the open air brought with it such lassitude andexhaustion, that I soon grew to dislike the very thought of moving outof doors. In such a condition of health, medical aid became necessary;and a skilful and amiable physician, Dr. R----, of great repute innervous ailments, attended me for many weeks, with but slight success. He was not to blame, poor man, for his failure to effect a cure. He hadonly one way of treatment, and he applied it to all his patients withmore or less happy results. Some died, some recovered; it was a lotteryon which my medical friend staked his reputation, and won. The patientswho died were never heard of more--those who recovered sang the praisesof their physician everywhere, and sent him gifts of silver plate andhampers of wine, to testify their gratitude. His popularity was verygreat; his skill considered marvellous; and his inability to do ME anygood arose, I must perforce imagine, out of some defect or hiddenobstinacy in my constitution, which was to him a new experience, andfor which he was unprepared. Poor Dr. R----! How many bottles of yourtastily prepared and expensive medicines have I not swallowed, in blindconfidence and blinder ignorance of the offences I thus committedagainst all the principles of that Nature within me, which, if left toitself, always heroically struggles to recover its own proper balanceand effect its own cure; but which, if subjected to the experimentaltests of various poisons or drugs, often loses strength in theunnatural contest and sinks exhausted, perhaps never to rise withactual vigour again. Baffled in his attempts to remedy my ailments, Dr. R---- at last resorted to the usual plan adopted by all physicians whentheir medicines have no power. He recommended change of air and scene, and urged my leaving London, then dark with the fogs of a drearywinter, for the gaiety and sunshine and roses of the Riviera. The ideawas not unpleasant to me, and I determined to take the adviceproffered. Hearing of my intention, some American friends of mine, Colonel Everard and his charming young wife, decided to accompany me, sharing with me the expenses of the journey and hotel accommodation. Weleft London all together on a damp foggy evening, when the cold was sointense that it seemed to bite the flesh like the sharp teeth of ananimal, and after two days' rapid journey, during which I felt myspirits gradually rising, and my gloomy forebodings vanishing slowlyone by one, we arrived at Cannes, and put up at the Hotel de L----. Itwas a lovely place, and most beautifully situated; the garden was aperfect wilderness of roses in full bloom, and an avenue oforange-trees beginning to flower cast a delicate fragrance on the warmdelicious air. 

Mrs. Everard was delighted. 

"If you do not recover your health here, " she said half laughingly tome on the second morning after our arrival, "I am afraid your case ishopeless. What sunshine! What a balmy wind! It is enough to make acripple cast away his crutches and forget he was ever lame. Don't youthink so?"

I smiled in answer, but inwardly I sighed. Beautiful as the scenery, the air, and the general surroundings were, I could not disguise frommyself that the temporary exhilaration of my feelings, caused by thenovelty and excitement of my journey to Cannes, was slowly but surelypassing away. The terrible apathy, against which I had fought for somany months, was again creeping over me with its cruel and resistlessforce. I did my best to struggle against it; I walked, I rode, Ilaughed and chatted with Mrs. Everard and her husband, and forcedmyself into sociability with some of the visitors at the hotel, whowere disposed to show us friendly attention. I summoned all my stock ofwill-power to beat back the insidious physical and mental misery thatthreatened to sap the very spring of my life; and in some of theseefforts I partially succeeded. But it was at night that the terrors ofmy condition manifested themselves. Then sleep forsook my eyes; a dullthrobbing weight of pain encircled my head like a crown of thorns;nervous terrors shook me from head to foot; fragments of my own musicalcompositions hummed in my ears with wearying persistence--fragmentsthat always left me in a state of distressed conjecture; for I nevercould remember how they ended, and I puzzled myself vainly overcrotchets and quavers that never would consent to arrange themselves inany sort of finale. So the days went on; for Colonel Everard and hiswife, those days were full of merriment, sight-seeing, and enjoyment. For me, though outwardly I appeared to share in the universal gaiety, they were laden with increasing despair and wretchedness; for I beganto lose hope of ever recovering my once buoyant health and strength, and, what was even worse, I seemed to have utterly parted with allworking ability. I was young, and up to within a few months life hadstretched brightly before me, with the prospect of a brilliant career. And now what was I? A wretched invalid--a burden to myself and toothers--a broken spar flung with other fragments of ship wrecked liveson the great ocean of Time, there to be whirled away and forgotten. Buta rescue was approaching; a rescue sudden and marvellous, of which, inmy wildest fancies, I had never dreamed. 

Staying in the same hotel with us was a young Italian artist, RaffaelloCellini by name. His pictures were beginning to attract a great deal ofnotice, both in Paris and Rome: not only for their faultless drawing, but for their wonderfully exquisite colouring. So deep and warm andrich were the hues he transferred to his canvases, that others of hisart, less fortunate in the management of the palette, declared he musthave invented some foreign compound whereby he was enabled to deepenand brighten his colours for the time being; but that the effect wasonly temporary, and that his pictures, exposed to the air for someeight or ten years, would fade away rapidly, leaving only the traces ofan indistinct blur. Others, more generous, congratulated him on havingdiscovered the secrets of the old masters. In short, he was admired, condemned, envied, and flattered, all in a breath; while he himself, being of a singularly serene and unruffled disposition, worked awayincessantly, caring little or nothing for the world's praise or blame. 

Cellini had a pretty suite of rooms in the Hotel de L----, and myfriends Colonel and Mrs. Everard fraternized with him very warmly. Hewas by no means slow to respond to their overtures of friendship, andso it happened that his studio became a sort of lounge for us, where wewould meet to have tea, to chat, to look at the pictures, or to discussour plans for future enjoyment. These visits to Cellini's studio, strange to say, had a remarkably soothing and calming effect upon mysuffering nerves. The lofty and elegant room, furnished with that"admired disorder" and mixed luxuriousness peculiar to artists, withits heavily drooping velvet curtains, its glimpses of white marblebusts and broken columns, its flash and fragrance of flowers thatbloomed in a tiny conservatory opening out from the studio and leadingto the garden, where a fountain bubbled melodiously--all this pleasedme and gave me a curious, yet most welcome, sense of absolute rest. Cellini himself had a fascination for me, for exactly the same reason. As an example of this, I remember escaping from Mrs. Everard on oneoccasion, and hurrying to the most secluded part of the garden, inorder to walk up and down alone in an endeavour to calm an attack ofnervous agitation which had suddenly seized me. While thus pacing aboutin feverish restlessness, I saw Cellini approaching, his head bent asif in thought, and his hands clasped behind his back. As he drew nearme, he raised his eyes--they were clear and darkly brilliant--heregarded me steadfastly with a kindly smile. Then lifting his hat withthe graceful reverence peculiar to an Italian, he passed on, saying noword. But the effect of his momentary presence upon me wasremarkable--it was ELECTRIC. I was no longer agitated. Calmed, soothedand almost happy, I returned to Mrs. Everard, and entered into herplans for the day with so much alacrity that she was surprised anddelighted. 

"If you go on like this, " she said, "you will be perfectly well in amonth. "

I was utterly unable to account for the remedial influence RaffaelloCellini's presence had upon me; but such as it was I could not but begrateful for the respite it gave me from nervous suffering, and my nowdaily visits to the artist's studio were a pleasure and a privilege notto be foregone. Moreover, I was never tired of looking at his pictures. His subjects were all original, and some of them were very weird andfantastic. One large picture particularly attracted me. It was entitled"Lords of our Life and Death. " Surrounded by rolling masses of cloud, some silver-crested, some shot through with red flame, was depicted theWorld, as a globe half in light, half in shade. Poised above it was agreat Angel, upon whose calm and noble face rested a mingled expressionof deep sorrow, yearning pity, and infinite regret. Tears seemed toglitter on the drooping lashes of this sweet yet stern Spirit; and inhis strong right hand he held a drawn sword--the sword ofdestruction--pointed forever downwards to the fated globe at his feet. Beneath this Angel and the world he dominated was darkness--utterillimitable darkness. But above him the clouds were torn asunder, andthrough a transparent veil of light golden mist, a face of surpassingbeauty was seen--a face on which youth, health, hope, love, andecstatic joy all shone with ineffable radiance. It was thepersonification of Life--not life as we know it, brief and full ofcare--but Life Immortal and Love Triumphant. Often and often I foundmyself standing before this masterpiece of Cellini's genius, gazing atit, not only with admiration, but with a sense of actual comfort. Oneafternoon, while resting in my favourite low chair opposite thepicture, I roused myself from a reverie, and turning to the artist, whowas showing some water-colour sketches to Mrs. Everard, I said abruptly:

"Did you imagine that face of the Angel of Life, Signor Cellini, or hadyou a model to copy from?"

He looked at me and smiled. 

"It is a moderately good portrait of an existing original, " he said. 

"A woman's face then, I suppose? How very beautiful she must be!"

"Actual beauty is sexless, " he replied, and was silent. The expressionof his face had become abstracted and dreamy, and he turned over thesketches for Mrs. Everard with an air which showed his thoughts to befar away from his occupation. 

"And the Death Angel?" I went on. "Had you a model for that also?"

This time a look of relief, almost of gladness, passed over hisfeatures. 

"No indeed, " he answered with ready frankness; "that is entirely my owncreation. "

I was about to compliment him on the grandeur and force of his poeticalfancy, when he stopped me by a slight gesture of his hand. 

"If you really admire the picture, " he said, "pray do not say so. If itis in truth a work of art, let it speak to you as art only, and sparethe poor workman who has called it into existence the shame of havingto confess that it is not above human praise. The only true criticismof high art is silence--silence as grand as heaven itself. "

He spoke with energy, and his dark eyes flashed. Amy (Mrs. Everard)looked at him curiously. 

"Say now!" she exclaimed, with a ringing laugh, "aren't you a littlebit eccentric, signor? You talk like a long-haired prophet! I never metan artist before who couldn't stand praise; it is generally a matter ofwonder to me to notice how much of that intoxicating sweet they canswallow without reeling. But you're an exception, I must admit. Icongratulate you!"

Cellini bowed gaily in response to the half-friendly, half-mockingcurtsey she gave him, and, turning to me again, said:

"I have a favour to ask of you, mademoiselle. Will you sit to me foryour portrait?"

"I!" I exclaimed, with astonishment. "Signor Cellini, I cannot imaginewhy you should wish so to waste your valuable time. There is nothing inmy poor physiognomy worthy of your briefest attention. "

"You must pardon me, mademoiselle, " he replied gravely, "if I presumeto differ from you. I am exceedingly anxious to transfer your featuresto my canvas. I am aware that you are not in strong health, and thatyour face has not that roundness and colour formerly habitual to it. But I am not an admirer of the milkmaid type of beauty. Everywhere Iseek for intelligence, for thought, for inward refinement--in short, mademoiselle, you have the face of one whom the inner soul consumes, and, as such, may I plead again with you to give me a little of yourspare time? YOU WILL NOT REGRET IT, I ASSURE YOU. "

These last words were uttered in a lower tone and with singularimpressiveness. I rose from my seat and looked at him steadily; hereturned me glance for glance, A strange thrill ran through me, followed by that inexplicable sensation of absolute calm that I hadbefore experienced. I smiled--I could, not help smiling. 

"I will come to-morrow, " I said. 

"A thousand thanks, mademoiselle! Can you be here at noon?"

I looked inquiringly at Amy, who clapped her hands with delightedenthusiasm. 

"Of course! Any time you like, signor. We will arrange our excursionsso that they shall not interfere with the sittings. It will be mostinteresting to watch the picture growing day by day. What will you callit, signor? By some fancy title?"

"It will depend on its appearance when completed, " he replied, as hethrew open the doors of the studio and bowed us out with his usualceremonious politeness. 

"Au revoir, madame! A demain, mademoiselle!" and the violet velvetcurtains of the portiere fell softly behind us as we made our exit. 

"Is there not something strange about that young man?" said Mrs. Everard, as we walked through the long gallery of the Hotel de L----back to our own rooms. "Something fiendish or angelic, or a little ofboth qualities mixed up?"

"I think he is what people term PECULIAR, when they fail to understandthe poetical vagaries of genius, " I replied. "He is certainly veryuncommon. "

"Well!" continued my friend meditatively, as she contemplated herpretty mignonne face and graceful figure in a long mirror placedattractively in a corner of the hall through which we were passing;"all I can say is that I wouldn't let him paint MY portrait if he wereto ask ever so! I should be scared to death. I wonder you, being sonervous, were not afraid of him. "

"I thought you liked him, " I said. 

"So I do. So does my husband. He's awfully handsome and clever, and allthat--but his conversation! There now, my dear, you must own he isslightly QUEER. Why, who but a lunatic would say that the onlycriticism of art is silence? Isn't that utter rubbish?"

"The only TRUE criticism, " I corrected her gently. 

"Well, it's all the same. How can there be any criticism at all insilence? According to his idea when we admire anything very much weought to go round with long faces and gags on our mouths. That would beentirely ridiculous! And what was that dreadful thing he said to you?"

"I don't quite understand you, " I answered; "I cannot remember hissaying anything dreadful. "

"Oh, I have it now, " continued Amy with rapidity; "it was awful! Hesaid you had the FACE OF ONE WHOM THE SOUL CONSUMES. You know that wasmost horribly mystical! And when he said it he looked--ghastly! Whatdid he mean by it, I wonder?"

I made no answer; but I thought I knew. I changed the conversation assoon as possible, and my volatile American friend was soon absorbed ina discussion on dress and jewellery. That night was a blessed one forme; I was free from all suffering, and slept as calmly as a child, while in my dreams the face of Cellini's "Angel of life" smiled at me, and seemed to suggest peace. 

CHAPTER II. 

THE MYSTERIOUS POTION. 

The next day, punctually at noon, according to my promise, I enteredthe studio. I was alone, for Amy, after some qualms of consciencerespecting chaperonage, propriety, and Mrs. Grundy, had yielded to myentreaties and gone for a drive with some friends. In spite of thefears she began to entertain concerning the Mephistophelian characterof Raffaello Cellini, there was one thing of which both she and I feltmorally certain: namely, that no truer or more honourable gentlemanthan he ever walked on the earth. Under his protection the loveliestand loneliest woman that ever lived would have been perfectly safe--assafe as though she were shut up, like the princess in the fairy-tale, in a brazen tower, of which only an undiscoverable serpent possessedthe key. When I arrived, the rooms were deserted, save for the presenceof a magnificent Newfoundland dog, who, as I entered, rose, and shakinghis shaggy body, sat down before me and offered me his huge paw, wagging his tail in the most friendly manner all the while, I at onceresponded to his cordial greeting, and as I stroked his noble head, Iwondered where the animal had come from; for though--we had visitedSignor Cellini's studio every day, there had been no sign or mention ofthis stately, brown-eyed, four-footed companion. I seated myself, andthe dog immediately lay down at my feet, every now and then looking upat me with an affectionate glance and a renewed wagging of his tail. Glancing round the well-known room, I noticed that the picture Iadmired so much was veiled by a curtain of Oriental stuff, in whichwere embroidered threads of gold mingled with silks of variousbrilliant hues. On the working easel was a large square canvas, alreadyprepared, as I supposed, for my features to be traced thereon. It wasan exceedingly warm morning, and though the windows as well as theglass doors of the conservatory were wide open, I found the air of thestudio very oppressive. I perceived on the table a finely-wroughtdecanter of Venetian glass, in which clear water sparkled temptingly. Rising from my chair, I took an antique silver goblet from themantelpiece, filled it with the cool fluid, and was about to drink, when the cup was suddenly snatched from my hands, and the voice ofCellini, changed from its usual softness to a tone both imperious andcommanding, startled me. 

"Do not drink that, " he said; "you must not! You dare not! I forbidyou!"

I looked up at him in mute astonishment. His face was very pale, andhis large dark eyes shone with suppressed excitement. Slowly myself-possession returned to me, and I said calmly:

"YOU forbid me, signor? Surely you forget yourself. What harm have Idone in helping myself to a simple glass of water in your studio? Youare not usually so inhospitable. "

While I spoke his manner changed, the colour returned to his face, andhis eyes softened--he smiled. 

"Forgive me, mademoiselle, for my brusquerie. It is true I forgotmyself for a moment. But you were in danger, and----"

"In danger!" I exclaimed incredulously. 

"Yes, mademoiselle. This, " and he held up the Venetian decanter to thelight, "is not water simply. If you will observe it now with thesunshine beating full against it, I think you will perceivepeculiarities in it that will assure you of my veracity. "

I looked as he bade me, and saw, to my surprise, that the fluid wasnever actually still for a second. A sort of internal bubbling seemedto work in its centre, and curious specks and lines of crimson and goldflashed through it from time to time. 

"What is it?" I asked; adding with a half-smile, "Are you the possessorof a specimen of the far-famed Aqua Tofana?"

Cellini placed the decanter carefully on a shelf, and I noticed that hechose a particular spot for it, where the rays of the sun could fallperpendicularly upon the vessel containing it. Then turning to me, hereplied:

"Aqua Tofana, mademoiselle, is a deadly poison, known to the ancientsand also to many learned chemists of our day. It is a clear andcolourless liquid, but it is absolutely still--as still as a stagnantpool. What I have just shown you is not poison, but quite the reverse. I will prove this to you at once. " And taking a tiny liqueur glass froma side table, he filled it with the strange fluid and drank it off, carefully replacing the stopper in the decanter. 

"But, Signor Cellini, " I urged, "if it is so harmless, why did youforbid my tasting it? Why did you say there was danger for me when Iwas about to drink it?"

"Because, mademoiselle, for YOU it would be dangerous. Your health isweak, your nerves unstrung. That elixir is a powerful vivifying tonic, acting with great rapidity on the entire system, and rushing throughthe veins with the swiftness of ELECTRICITY. I am accustomed to it; itis my daily medicine. But I was brought to it by slow, and almostimperceptible degrees. A single teaspoonful of that fluid, mademoiselle, administered to anyone not prepared to receive it, wouldbe instant death, though its actual use is to vivify and strengthenhuman life. You understand now why I said you were in danger?"

"I understand, " I replied, though in sober truth I was mystified andpuzzled. 

"And you forgive my seeming rudeness?"

"Oh, certainly! But you have aroused my curiosity. I should like toknow more about this strange medicine of yours. "

"You shall know more if you wish, " said Cellini, his usual equablehumour and good spirits now quite restored. "You shall know everything;but not to-day. We have too little time. I have not yet commenced yourpicture. And I forgot--you were thirsty, and I was, as you said, inhospitable. You must permit me to repair my fault. "

And with a courteous salute he left the room, to return almostimmediately with a tumbler full of some fragrant, golden-colouredliquid, in which lumps of ice glittered refreshingly. A few looserose-leaves were scattered on the top of this dainty-looking beverage. 

"You may enjoy this without fear, " said he, smiling; "it will do yougood. It is an Eastern wine, unknown to trade, and therefore untamperedwith. I see you are looking at the rose-leaves on the surface. That isa Persian custom, and I think a pretty one. They float away from yourlips in the action of drinking, and therefore they are no obstacle. "

I tasted the wine and found it delicious, soft and mellow as summermoonlight. While I sipped it the big Newfoundland, who had stretchedhimself in a couchant posture on the hearth-rug ever since Cellini hadfirst entered the room, rose and walked majestically to my side andrubbed his head caressingly against the folds of my dress. 

"Leo has made friends with you, I see, " said Cellini. "You should takethat as a great compliment, for he is most particular in his choice ofacquaintance, and most steadfast when he has once made up his mind. Hehas more decision of character than many a statesman. "

"How is it we have never seen him before?" I inquired. "You never toldus you had such a splendid companion. "

"I am not his master, " replied the artist. "He only favours me with avisit occasionally. He arrived from Paris last night, and came straighthere, sure of his welcome. He does not confide his plans to me, but Isuppose he will return to his home when he thinks it advisable. Heknows his own business best. "

I laughed. 

"What a clever dog! Does he journey on foot, or does he take the train?"

"I believe he generally patronizes the railway. All the officials knowhim, and he gets into the guard's van as a matter of course. Sometimeshe will alight at a station en route, and walk the rest of the way. Butif he is lazily inclined, he does not stir till the train reaches itsdestination. At the end of every six months or so, the railwayauthorities send the bill of Leo's journeyings in to his master, whenit is always settled without difficulty. "

"And who IS his master?" I ventured to ask. 

Cellini's face grew serious and absorbed, and his eyes were full ofgrave contemplation as he answered:

"His master, mademoiselle, is MY master--one who among men, issupremely intelligent; among teachers, absolutely unselfish; amongthinkers, purely impersonal; among friends, inflexibly faithful. To himI owe everything--even life itself. For him no sacrifice, no extremedevotion would be too great, could I hope thereby to show my gratitude. But he is as far above human thanks or human rewards as the sun isabove the sea. Not here, not now, dare I say to him, MY FRIEND, BEHOLDHOW MUCH I LOVE THEE! such language would be all too poor andunmeaning; but hereafter--who knows?----" and he broke off abruptlywith a half-sigh. Then, as if forcing himself to change the tenor ofhis thoughts, he continued in a kind tone: "But, mademoiselle, I amwasting your time, and am taking no advantage of the favour you haveshown me by your presence to-day. Will you seat yourself here?" and heplaced an elaborately carved oaken settee in one corner of the studio, opposite his own easel. "I should be sorry to fatigue you at all, " hewent on; "do you care for reading?"

I answered eagerly in the affirmative, and he handed me a volume boundin curiously embossed leather, and ornamented with silver clasps. Itwas entitled "Letters of a Dead Musician. "

"You will find clear gems of thought, passion, and feeling in thisbook, " said Cellini; "and being a musician yourself, you will know howto appreciate them. The writer was one of those geniuses whose work theworld repays with ridicule and contempt. There is no fate moreenviable!"

I looked at the artist with some surprise as I took the volume herecommended, and seated myself in the position he indicated; and whilehe busied himself in arranging the velvet curtains behind me as abackground, I said:

"Do you really consider it enviable, Signor Cellini, to receive theworld's ridicule and contempt?"

"I do indeed, " he replied, "since it is a certain proof that the worlddoes not understand you. To achieve something that is above humancomprehension, THAT is greatness. To have the serene sublimity of theGod-man Christ, and consent to be crucified by a gibing world that wasfated to be afterwards civilized and dominated by His teachings, whatcan be more glorious? To have the magnificent versatility of aShakespeare, who was scarcely recognized in his own day, but whosegifts were so vast and various that the silly multitudes wrangle overhis very identity and the authenticity of his plays to this hour--whatcan be more triumphant? To know that one's own soul can, ifstrengthened and encouraged by the force of will, rise to a supremealtitude of power--is not that sufficient to compensate for the littlewhining cries of the common herd of men and women who have forgottenwhether they ever had a spiritual spark in them, and who, straining upto see the light of genius that burns too fiercely for theirearth-dimmed eyes, exclaim: 'WE see nothing, therefore there CAN benothing. ' Ah, mademoiselle, the knowledge of one's own innerSelf-Existence is a knowledge surpassing all the marvels of art andscience!"

Cellini spoke with enthusiasm, and his countenance seemed illumined bythe eloquence that warmed his speech. I listened with a sort of dreamysatisfaction; the visual sensation of utter rest that I alwaysexperienced in this man's presence was upon me, and I watched him withinterest as he drew with quick and facile touch the outline of myfeatures on his canvas. 

Gradually he became more and more absorbed in his work; he glanced atme from time to time, but did not speak, and his pencil worked rapidly. I turned over the "Letters of a Dead Musician" with some curiosity. Several passages struck me as being remarkable for their originalityand depth of thought; but what particularly impressed me as I read on, was the tone of absolute joy and contentment that seemed to light upevery page. There were no wailings over disappointed ambition, noregrets for the past, no complaints, no criticism, no word for oragainst the brothers of his art; everything was treated from a loftystandpoint of splendid equality, save when the writer spoke of himself, and then he became the humblest of the humble, yet never abject, andalways happy. 

"O Music!" he wrote, "Music, thou Sweetest Spirit of all that serveGod, what have I done that thou shouldst so often visit me? It is notwell, O thou Lofty and Divine One, that thou shouldst stoop so low asto console him who is the unworthiest of all thy servants. For I am toofeeble to tell the world how soft is the sound of thy rustling pinions, how tender is the sighing breath of thy lips, how beyond all thingsglorious is the vibration of thy lightest whisper! Remain aloft, thouChoicest Essence of the Creator's Voice, remain in that pure andcloudless ether, where alone thou art fitted to dwell. My touch mustdesecrate thee, my voice affright thee. Suffice it to thy servant, OBeloved, to dream of thee and die!"

Meeting Cellini's glance as I finished reading these lines, I asked:

"Did you know the author of this book, signor?"

"I knew him well, " he replied; "he was one of the gentlest souls thatever dwelt in human clay. As ethereal in his music as John Keats in hispoetry, he was one of those creatures born of dreams and rapture thatrarely visit this planet. Happy fellow! What a death was his!"

"How did he die?" I inquired. 

"He was playing the organ in one of the great churches of Rome on theday of the Feast of the Virgin. A choir of finely trained voices sangto his accompaniment his own glorious setting of the "Regina Coeli. "The music was wonderful, startling, triumphant--ever rising in powerand majesty to a magnificent finale, when suddenly a slight crash washeard; the organ ceased abruptly, the singers broke off. The musicianwas dead. He had fallen forward on the keys of the instrument, and whenthey raised him, his face was fairer than the face of any sculpturedangel, so serene was its expression, so rapt was its smile. No onecould tell exactly the cause of his death--he had always beenremarkably strong and healthy. Everyone said it was heart-disease--itis the usual reason assigned by medical savants for these suddendepartures out of the world. His loss was regretted by all, save myselfand one other who loved him. We rejoiced, and still do rejoice, at hisrelease. "

I speculated vaguely on the meaning of these last words, but I feltdisinclined to ask any more questions, and Cellini, probably seeingthis, worked on at his sketch without further converse. My eyes weregrowing heavy, and the printed words in the "Dead Musician's Letters"danced before my sight like active little black demons with thin wavingarms and legs. A curious yet not unpleasant drowsiness stole over me, in which I heard the humming of the bees at the open window, thesinging of the birds, and the voices of people in the hotel gardens, all united in one continuous murmur that seemed a long way off. I sawthe sunshine and the shadow--I saw the majestic Leo stretched fulllength near the easel, and the slight supple form of Raffaello Cellinistanding out in bold outline against the light; yet all seemed shiftingand mingling strangely into a sort of wide radiance in which there wasnothing but varying tints of colour. And could it have been my fancy, or did I actually SEE the curtain fall gradually away from my favouritepicture, just enough for the face of the "Angel of Life" to be seensmiling down upon me? I rubbed my eyes violently, and started to myfeet at the sound of the artist's voice. 

"I have tried your patience enough for to-day, " he said, and his wordssounded muffled, as though they were being spoken through, a thickwall. "You can leave me now if you like. "

I stood before him mechanically, still holding the book he had lent meclasped in my hand. Irresolutely I raised my eyes towards the "Lords ofour Life and Death. " It was closely veiled. I had then experienced anoptical illusion. I forced myself to speak--to smile--to put back thenovel sensations that were overwhelming me. 

"I think, " I said, and I heard myself speak as though I were somebodyelse at a great distance off--"I think, Signor Cellini, your Easternwine has been too potent for me. My head is quite heavy, and I feeldazed. "

"It is mere fatigue and the heat of the day, " he replied quietly. "I amsure you are not too DAZED, as you call it, to see your favouritepicture, are you?"

I trembled. Was not that picture veiled? I looked--there was no curtainat all, and the faces of the two Angels shone out of the canvas withintense brilliancy! Strange to say, I felt no surprise at thiscircumstance, which, had it occurred a moment previously, would haveunquestionably astonished and perhaps alarmed me. The mistiness of mybrain suddenly cleared; I saw everything plainly; I heard distinctly;and when I spoke, the tone of my voice sounded as full and ringing asit had previously seemed low and muffled. I gazed steadfastly at thepainting, and replied, half smiling:

"I should be indeed 'far gone, ' as the saying is, if I could not seethat, signor! It is truly your masterpiece. Why have you neverexhibited it?"

"Can YOU ask that?" he said with impressive emphasis, at the same timedrawing nearer and fixing upon me the penetrating glance of his darkfathomless eyes. It then seemed to me that some great inner forcecompelled me to answer this half-inquiry, in words of which I had takenno previous thought, and which, as I uttered them, conveyed no specialmeaning to my own ears. 

"Of course, " I said slowly, as if I were repeating a lesson, "you wouldnot so betray the high trust committed to your charge. "

"Well said!" replied Cellini; "you are fatigued, mademoiselle. Aurevoir! Till to-morrow!" And, throwing open the door of his studio, hestood aside for me to pass out. I looked at him inquiringly. 

"Must I come at the same time to-morrow?" I asked. 

"If you please. "

I passed my hand across my forehead perplexedly, I felt I had somethingelse to say before I left him. He waited patiently, holding back withone hand the curtains of the portiere. 

"I think I had a parting word to give you, " I said at last, meeting hisgaze frankly; "but I seem to have forgotten what it was. " Cellinismiled gravely. 

"Do not trouble to think about it, mademoiselle. I am unworthy theeffort on your part. "

A flash of vivid light crossed my eyes for a second, and I exclaimedeagerly:

"I remember now! It was 'Dieu vous garde' signor!"

He bent his head reverentially. 

"Merci mille fois, mademoiselle! Dieu vous garde--vous aussi. Aurevoir. "

And clasping my hand with a light yet friendly pressure, he closed thedoor of his room behind me. Once alone in the passage, the sense ofhigh elation and contentment that had just possessed me began graduallyto decrease. I had not become actually dispirited, but a languidfeeling of weariness oppressed me, and my limbs ached as though I hadwalked incessantly for many miles. I went straight to my own room. Iconsulted my watch; it was half-past one, the hour at which the hotelluncheon was usually served. Mrs. Everard had evidently not returnedfrom her drive. I did not care to attend the table d'hote alone;besides, I had no inclination to eat. I drew down the window-blinds toshut out the brilliancy of the beautiful Southern sunlight, andthrowing myself on my bed I determined to rest quietly till Amy cameback. I had brought the "Letters of a Dead Musician" away with me fromCellini's studio, and I began to read, intending to keep myself awakeby this means. But I found I could not fix my attention on the page, nor could I think at all connectedly. Little by little my eyelidsclosed; the book dropped from my nerveless hand; and in a few minutes Iwas in a deep and tranquil slumber. 

CHAPTER III. 

THREE VISIONS. 

Roses, roses! An interminable chain of these royal blossoms, red andwhite, wreathed by the radiant fingers of small rainbow-wingedcreatures as airy as moonlight mist, as delicate as thistledown! Theycluster round me with smiling faces and eager eyes; they place the endof their rose-garland in my hand, and whisper, "FOLLOW!" Gladly I obey, and hasten onward. Guiding myself by the fragrant chain I hold, I passthrough a labyrinth of trees, whose luxuriant branches quiver with theflight and song of birds. Then comes a sound of waters; the riotousrushing of a torrent unchecked, that leaps sheer down from rocks athousand feet high, thundering forth the praise of its own beauty as ittosses in the air triumphant crowns of silver spray. How the livingdiamonds within it shift, and change, and sparkle! Fain would I lingerto watch this magnificence; but the coil of roses still unwinds beforeme, and the fairy voices still cry, "FOLLOW!" I press on. The treesgrow thicker; the songs of the birds cease; the light around me growspale and subdued. In the far distance I see a golden crescent thatseems suspended by some invisible thread in the air. Is it the youngmoon? No; for as I gaze it breaks apart into a thousand points of vividlight like wandering stars. These meet; they blaze into letters offire. I strain my dazzled eyes to spell out their meaning. They formone word--HELIOBAS. I read it. I utter it aloud. The rose-chain breaksat my feet, and disappears. The fairy voices die away on my ear. Thereis utter silence, utter darkness, --save where that one NAME writesitself in burning gold on the blackness of the heavens. 

 * * * * *

The interior of a vast cathedral is opened before my gaze. The loftywhite marble columns support a vaulted roof painted in fresco, fromwhich are suspended a thousand lamps that emit a mild and steadyeffulgence. The great altar is illuminated; the priests, in glitteringraiment, pace slowly to and fro. The large voice of the organ, murmuring to itself awhile, breaks forth in a shout of melody; and aboy's clear, sonorous treble tones pierce the incense-laden air. "Credo!"--and the silver, trumpet-like notes fall from the immenseheight of the building like a bell ringing in a pure atmosphere--"Credoin unum Deum; Patrem omni-potentum, factorem coeli et terrae, visibilium omnium et invisibilium. "

The cathedral echoes with answering voices; and, involuntarilykneeling, I follow the words of the grand chant. I hear the musicslacken; the notes of rejoicing change to a sobbing and remorsefulwail; the organ shudders like a forest of pines in a tempest, "Crucifixus etiam pro nobis; passus et sepultus est. " A darkness growsup around me; my senses swim. The music altogether ceases; but abrilliant radiance streams through a side-door of the church, andtwenty maidens, clad in white and crowned with myrtle, pacing two bytwo, approach me. They gaze at me with joyous eyes. "Art thou also oneof us?" they murmur; then they pass onward to the altar, where againthe lights are glimmering. I watch them with eager interest; I hearthem uplift their fresh young voices in prayer and praise. One of them, whose deep blue eyes are full of lustrous tenderness, leaves hercompanions, and softly approaches me. She holds a pencil and tablet inher hand. 

"Write!" she says, in a thrilling whisper; "and write quickly! forwhatsoever thou shalt now inscribe is the clue to thy destiny. "

I obey her mechanically, impelled not by my own will, but by someunknown powerful force acting within and around me. I trace upon thetablet one word only; it is a name that startles me even while I myselfwrite it down--HELIOBAS. Scarcely have I written it when a thick whitecloud veils the cathedral from my sight; the fair maiden vanishes, andall is again still. 

 * * * * *

I am listening to the accents of a grave melodious voice, which, fromits slow and measured tones, would seem to be in the action of readingor reciting aloud. I see a small room sparely furnished, and at a tablecovered with books and manuscripts is seated a man of noble featuresand commanding presence. He is in the full prime of life; his dark hairhas no thread of silver to mar its luxuriance; his face is unwrinkled;his forehead unfurrowed by care; his eyes, deeply sunk beneath hisshelving brows, are of a singularly clear and penetrating blue, with anabsorbed and watchful look in them, like the eyes of one accustomed togaze far out at sea. His hand rests on the open pages of a massivevolume; he is reading, and his expression is intent and earnest--as ifhe were littering his own thoughts aloud, with the conviction and forceof an orator who knows the truth of which he speaks:

"The Universe is upheld solely by the Law of Love. A majestic invisibleProtectorate governs the winds, the tides, the incoming and outgoing ofthe seasons, the birth of the flowers, the growth of forests, theoutpourings of the sunlight, the silent glittering of the stars. A wideillimitable Beneficence embraces all creation. A vast Eternal Pityexists for all sorrow, all sin. He who first swung the planets in theair, and bade them revolve till Time shall be no more--He, theFountain-Head of Absolute Perfection, is no deaf, blind, capricious, orremorseless Being. To Him the death of the smallest singing-bird is asgreat or as little as the death of a world's emperor. For Him thetimeless withering of an innocent flower is as pitiful as the decay ofa mighty nation. An infant's first prayer to Him is heard with astender a patience as the united petitions of thousands of worshippers. For in everything and around everything, from the sun to a grain ofsand, He hath a portion, small or great, of His own most PerfectExistence. Should He hate His Creation, He must perforce hate Himself;and that Love should hate Love is an impossibility. Therefore He lovesall His work; and as Love, to be perfect, must contain Pity, Forgiveness, and Forbearance, so doth He pity, forgive, and forbear. Shall a mere man deny himself for the sake of his child or friend? andshall the Infinite Love refuse to sacrifice itself--yea, even to asimmense a humility as its greatness is immeasurable? Shall we denythose merciful attributes to God which we acknowledge in His creature, Man? O my Soul, rejoice that thou hast pierced the veil of the Beyond;that thou hast seen and known the Truth! that to thee is made clear theReason of Life, and the Recompense of Death: yet while rejoicing, grieve that thou art not fated to draw more than a few souls to thecomfort thou hast thyself attained!"

Fascinated by the speaker's voice and countenance, I listen, strainingmy ears to catch every word that falls from his lips. He rises; hestands erect; he stretches out his hands as though in solemn entreaty. 

"Azul!" he exclaims. "Messenger of my fate; thou who art a guidingspirit of the elements, thou who ridest the storm-cloud and sittestthroned on the edge of the lightning! By that electric spark within me, of which thou art the Twin Flame, I ask of thee to send me this onemore poor human soul; let me change its unrestfulness into repose, itshesitation to certainty, its weakness to strength, its wearyimprisonment to the light of liberty! Azul!"

His voice ceases, his extended hands fall slowly, and gradually, gradually he turns his whole figure towards ME. He faces me--hisintense eyes burn through me--his strange yet tender smile absorbs me. Yet I am full of unreasoning terror; I tremble--I strive to turn awayfrom that searching and magnetic gaze. His deep, melodious tones againring softly on the silence. He addresses me. 

"Fearest thou me, my child? Am I not thy friend? Knowest thou not thename of HELIOBAS?"

At this word I start and gasp for breath; I would shriek, but cannot, for a heavy hand seems to close my mouth, and an immense weight pressesme down. I struggle violently with this unseen Power--little by littleI gain the advantage. One effort more! I win the victory--I wake!

 * * * * *

"Sakes alive!" says a familiar voice; "you HAVE had a spell of sleep! Igot home about two, nearly starving, and I found you here curled up 'ina rosy infant slumber, ' as the song says. So I hunted up the Coloneland had lunch, for it seemed a sin to disturb you. It's just struckfour. Shall we have some tea up here?"

I looked at Mrs. Everard, and smiled assent. So I had been sleeping fortwo hours and a half, and I had evidently been dreaming all the time;but my dreams had been as vivid as realities. I felt still ratherdrowsy, but I was thoroughly rested and in a state of delicioustranquillity. My friend rang the bell for the tea, and then turnedround and surveyed me with a sort of wonder. 

"What have you done to yourself, child?" she said at last, approachingthe bed where I lay, and staring fixedly at me. 

"What do you mean?"

"Why, you look a different creature. When I left you this morning youwere pale and haggard, a sort of die-away delicate invalid; now youreyes are bright; and your cheeks have quite a lovely colour in them;your lips, too, are the right tint. But perhaps, " and here she lookedalarmed--"perhaps you've got the fever?"

"I don't think so, " I said amusedly, and I stretched out my hand forher to feel. 

"No, you haven't, " she continued, evidently reassured; "your palm ismoist and cool, and your pulse is regular. Well, you look spry, anyhow. I shouldn't wonder if you made up your mind to have a dance to-night. "

"Dance?" I queried. "What dance, and where?"

"Well, Madame Didier, that jolly little furbelowed Frenchwoman withwhom I was driving just now, has got up a regular party to-night--"

"Hans Breitmann gib a barty?" I interposed, with a mock solemn air ofinquiry. 

Amy laughed. 

"Well, yes, it MAY be that kind of thing, for all I know to thecontrary. Anyhow, she's hired the band and ordered a right-down elegantsupper. Half the folks in the hotel are going, and a lot of outsidershave got invitations. She asked if we couldn't come--myself, theColonel, and you. I said I could answer for myself and the Colonel, butnot for you, as you were an invalid. But if you keep on looking as youdo at present, no one will believe that there's anything the matterwith you. --Tea, Alphonse!"

This to a polite waiter, who was our special attendant, and who justthen knocked at the door to know "madame's" orders. 

Utterly disbelieving what my friend said in regard to my improvedappearance, I rose from the bed and went to the dressing-table to lookin the mirror and judge for myself. I almost recoiled from my ownreflection, so great was my surprise. The heavy marks under my eyes, the lines of pain that had been for months deepening in my forehead, the plaintive droop of the mouth that had given me such an air ofill-health and anxiety--all were gone as if by magic. I saw arose-tinted complexion, a pair of laughing, lustrous eyes, and, altogether, such a happy, mirthful young face smiled back at me, that Ihalf doubted whether it was indeed myself I saw. 

"There now!" cried Amy in triumph, watching me as I pushed myclustering hair from my brows, and examined myself more intently. "DidI not tell you so? The change in you is marvellous! I know what it is. You have been getting better unconsciously to yourself in this lovelyair and scene, and the long afternoon sleep you've just had hascompleted the cure. "

I smiled at her enthusiasm, but was forced to admit that she was rightas far as my actual looks went. No one would believe that I was, orever had been, ill. In silence I loosened my hair and began to brush itand put it in order before the mirror, and as I did so my thoughts werevery busy. I remembered distinctly all that had happened in the studioof Raffaello Cellini, and still more distinctly was I able to recallevery detail of the three dreams that had visited me in my slumber. TheNAME, too, that had been the key-note of them all I also remembered, but some instinct forbade me to utter it aloud. Once I thought, "ShallI take a pencil and write it down lest I forget it?" and the sameinstinct said "No. " Amy's voluble chatter ran on like the sound of arippling brook all the time I thus meditated over the occurrences ofthe day. 

"Say, child!" she exclaimed; "will you go to the dance?"

"Certainly I will, with pleasure, " I answered, and indeed I felt as ifI should thoroughly enjoy it. 

"Brava! It will be real fun. There are no end of foreign titles coming, I believe. The Colonel's a bit grumpy about it, --he always is when hehas to wear his dress suit. He just hates it. That man hasn't aparticle of vanity. He looks handsomer in his evening clothes than inanything else, and yet he doesn't see it. But tell me, " and her prettyface became serious with a true feminine anxiety, "whatever will youwear? You've brought no ball fixings, have you?"

I finished twisting up the last coil of my hair, and turned and kissedher affectionately. She was the most sweet-tempered and generous ofwomen, and she would have placed any one of her elaborate costumes atmy disposal had I expressed the least desire in that direction. Ianswered:

"No, dear; I certainly have no regular ball 'fixings, ' for I neverexpected to dance here, or anywhere for that matter. I did not bringthe big trunks full of Parisian toilettes that you indulge in, youspoilt bride! Still I have something that may do. In fact it will haveto do. "

"What is it? Have I seen it? Do show!" and her curiosity wasunappeasable. 

The discreet Alphonse tapped at the door again just at this moment. 

"Entrez!" I answered; and our tea, prepared with the tempting nicetypeculiar to the Hotel de L----, appeared. Alphonse set the tray downwith his usual artistic nourish, and produced a small note from hisvest-pocket. 

"For mademoiselle, " he said with a bow; and as he handed it to me, hiseyes opened wide in surprise. He, too, perceived the change in myappearance. But he was dignity itself, and instantly suppressed hisastonishment into the polite impassiveness of a truly accomplishedwaiter, and gliding from the room on the points of his toes, as was hisusual custom, he disappeared. The note was from Cellini, and ran asfollows:

"If mademoiselle will be so good as to refrain from choosing anyflowers for her toilette this evening, she will confer a favour on herhumble friend and servant, "RAFFAELLO CELLINI. "

I handed it to Amy, who was evidently burning with inquisitiveness toknow its contents. 

"Didn't I say he was a queer young man?" she exclaimed, as she perusedthe missive attentively. "This is only his way of saying that he meansto send you some flowers himself. But what puzzles me is to think howhe could possibly know you were going to make any special 'toilette'this evening. It is really very mysterious when I come to think of it, for Madame Didier said plainly that she would not ask Cellini to thedance till she saw him at the table d'hote to-night. "

"Perhaps Alphonse has told him all about it, " I suggested. 

My friend's countenance brightened. 

"Of course! That is it; and Mr. Cellini takes it for granted that agirl of your age would not be likely to refuse a dance. Still there issomething odd about it, too. By-the-bye, I forgot to ask you how thepicture got on?"

"Oh, very well, I believe, " I replied evasively. "Signor Cellini onlymade a slight outline sketch as a beginning. "

"And was it like you?--a really good resemblance?"

"I really did not examine it closely enough to be able to judge. "

"What a demure young person you are!" laughed Mrs. Everard. "Now, _I_should have rushed straight up to the easel and examined every line ofwhat he was doing. You are a model of discretion, really! I shan't beanxious about leaving you alone any more. But about your dress forto-night. Let me see it, there's a good girl. "

I opened my trunk and took out a robe of ivory-tinted crepe. It wasmade with almost severe simplicity, and was unadorned, save by a softruffle of old Mechlin lace round the neck and sleeves. Amy examined itcritically. 

"Now, you would have looked perfectly ghastly in this last night, whenyou were as pale and hollow-eyed as a sick nun; but to-night, " and sheraised her eyes to my face, "I believe you will do. Don't you want thebodice cut lower?"

"No, thanks!" I said, smiling. "I will leave that to the portlydowagers--they will expose neck enough for half-a-dozen other women. "

My friend laughed. 

"Do as you like, " she returned; "only I see your gown has shortsleeves, and I thought you might like a square neck instead of thatlittle simple Greek round. But perhaps it's better as it is. The stuffis lovely; where did you get it?"

"At one of the London emporiums of Eastern art, " I answered. "My dear, your tea is getting cold. "

She laid the dress on the bed, and in doing so, perceived theantique-looking book with the silver clasps which I had left there. 

"What's this?" she asked, turning it round to discover its name. "'Letters of a Dead Musician!' What a shivery title! Is it morbidreading?"

"Not at all, " I replied, as I leaned comfortably back in an easy-chairand sipped my tea. "It is a very scholarly, poetical, and picturesquework. Signor Cellini lent it to me; the author was a friend of his. "

Amy looked at me with a knowing and half-serious expression. 

"Say now--take care, take care! Aren't you and Cellini getting to berather particular friends--something a little beyond the Platonic, eh?"

This notion struck me as so absurd that I laughed heartily. Then, without pausing for one instant to think what I was saying, I answeredwith amazing readiness and frankness, considering that I really knewnothing about it:

"Why, my dear, Raffaello Cellini is betrothed, and he is a most devotedlover. "

A moment after I had uttered this assertion I was surprised at myself. What authority had I for saying that Cellini was betrothed? What did Iknow about it? Confused, I endeavoured to find some means of retractingthis unfounded and rash remark, but no words of explanation would cometo my lips that had been so ready and primed to deliver what might be, for all I knew, a falsehood. Amy did not perceive my embarrassment. Shewas pleased and interested at the idea of Cellini's being in love. 

"Really!" she exclaimed, "it makes him a more romantic character thanever! Fancy his telling you that he was betrothed! How delightful! Imust ask him all about his chosen fair one. But I'm positively thankfulit isn't you, for I'm sure he's just a little bit off his head. Eventhis book he has lent you looks like a wizard's property;" and shefluttered the leaves of the "Dead Musician's" volume, turning themrapidly over in search of something attractive. Suddenly she paused andcried out: "Why, this is right-down awful! He must have been a regularmadman! Just listen!" and she read aloud:

"'How mighty are the Kingdoms of the Air! How vast they are--howdensely populated--how glorious are their destinies--how all-powerfuland wise are their inhabitants! They possess everlasting health andbeauty--their movements are music--their glances are light--they cannoterr in their laws or judgments, for their existence is love. Thrones, principalities, and powers are among them, yet all are equal. Each onehas a different duty to perform, yet all their labours are lofty. Butwhat a fate is ours on this low earth! For, from the cradle to thegrave, we are watched by these spiritual spectators--watched withunflinching interest, unhesitating regard. O Angelic Spirits, what isthere in the poor and shabby spectacle of human life to attract yourmighty Intelligences? Sorrow, sin, pride, shame, ambition, failure, obstinacy, ignorance, selfishness, forgetfulness--enough to make yeveil your radiant faces in unpierceable clouds to hide forever thesight of so much crime and misery. Yet if there be the faintest, feeblest effort in our souls to answer to the call of your voices, torise above the earth by force of the same will that pervades yourdestinies, how the sound of great rejoicing permeates those widecontinents ye inhabit, like a wave of thunderous music; and ye areglad, Blessed Spirits!--glad with a gladness beyond that of your ownlives, to feel and to know that some vestige, however fragile, isspared from the general wreck of selfish and unbelieving Humanity. Truly we work under the shadow of a "cloud of Witnesses. " Disperse, disperse, O dense yet brilliant multitudes! turn away from me yourburning, truthful, immutable eyes, filled with that look of divine, perpetual regret and pity! Lo, how unworthy am I to behold your glory!and yet I must see and know and love you all, while the mad blind worldrushes on to its own destruction, and none can avert its doom. '"

Here Amy threw down the book with a sort of contempt, and said to me:

"If you are going to muddle your mind with the ravings of a lunatic, you are not what I took you for. Why, it's regular spiritualism!Kingdoms of the air indeed! And his cloud of witnesses! Rubbish!"

"He quotes the CLOUD OF WITNESSES from St. Paul, " I remarked. 

"More shame for him!" replied my friend, with the usual inconsistentindignation that good Protestants invariably display when their petcorn, the Bible, is accidentally trodden on. "It has been very wellsaid that the devil can quote Scripture, and this musician (a good jobhe IS dead, I'm sure) is perfectly blasphemous to quote the Testamentin support of his ridiculous ideas! St. Paul did not mean by 'a cloudof witnesses, ' a lot of 'air multitudes' and 'burning, immutable eyes, 'and all that nonsense. "

"Well, what DID he mean?" I gently persisted. 

"Oh, he meant--why, you know very well what he meant, " said Amy, in atone of reproachful solemnity. "And I wonder at your asking me such aquestion! Surely you know your Bible, and you must be aware that St. Paul could never have approved of spiritualism. "

"'And there are bodies celestial and bodies terrestrial, but one is theglory of the celestial?" I quoted with, a slight smile. 

Mrs. Everard looked shocked and almost angry. 

"My dear, I am ashamed of you! You are a believer in spirits, I dodeclare! Why, I thought Maskelyne and Cook had cured everybody of suchnotions; and now here's this horrid book going to make you more nervousthan ever. I shall have you getting up one night and shrieking aboutburning, immutable eyes looking at you. "

I laughed merrily as I rose to pick up the discarded volume from thefloor. 

"Don't be afraid, " I said; "I'll give back the book to Signor Cellinito-morrow, and I will tell him that you do not like the idea of myreading it, and that I am going to study the Bible instead. Come now, dear, don't look cross!" and I embraced her warmly, for I liked her fartoo well to wish to offend her. "Let us concentrate our attention onour finery for to-night, when a 'dense and brilliant multitude, ' not ofair, but of the 'earth earthy, ' will pass us under critical survey. Iassure you I mean to make the best of my improved looks, as I don'tbelieve they will last. I dare say I shall be the 'sick nun' that youtermed me again to-morrow. "

"I hope not, dearest, " said my friend kindly, returning my caress andforgetting her momentary ill-humour. "A jolly dance will do you good ifyou are careful to avoid over-exertion. But you are quite right, wemust really fix our things ready for the evening, else we shall be allin a flurry at the last moment, and nothing riles the Colonel so muchas to see women in a fuss. I shall wear my lace dress; but it wantsseeing to. Will you help me?"

Readily assenting, we were soon deep in the arrangement of thenumberless little mysteries that make up a woman's toilette; andnothing but the most frivolous conversation ensued. But as I assistedin the sorting of laces, jewels, and other dainty appendages of eveningcostume, I was deep in earnest meditation. Reviewing in my own mind thevarious sensations I had experienced since I had tasted that Easternwine in Cellini's studio, I came to the conclusion that he must havetried an experiment on me with some foreign drug, of which he aloneknew the properties. Why he should do this I could not determine; butthat he had done it I was certain. Besides this, I felt sure that hepersonally exerted some influence upon me--a soothing and calminginfluence I was forced to admit--still, it could hardly be allowed tocontinue. To be under the control, however slight, of one who wasalmost a stranger to me, was, at the least, unnatural and unpleasant. Iwas bound to ask him a few plain questions. And, supposing Mrs. Everardwere to speak to him about his being betrothed, and he were to deny it, and afterwards were to turn round upon me and ask what authority I hadfor making such a statement, what should I say? Convict myself offalsehood? However, it was no use to puzzle over the solution of thisdifficulty till it positively presented itself. At any rate, Idetermined I would ask him frankly, face to face, for some explanationof the strange emotions I had felt ever since meeting him; and thusresolved, I waited patiently for the evening. 

CHAPTER IV. 

A DANCE AND A PROMISE. 

Our little French friend, Madame Didier, was not a woman to do thingsby halves. She was one of those rare exceptions among Parisianladies--she was a perfectly happy wife; nay, more, she was in love withher own husband, a fact which, considering the present state of societyboth in France and England, rendered her almost contemptible in theeyes of all advanced thinkers. She was plump and jolly in appearance;round-eyed and brisk as a lively robin. Her husband, a large, mild-faced placid man--"mon petit mari, " as she called him--permittedher to have her own way in everything, and considered all she did asperfectly well done. Therefore, when she had proposed this informaldance at the Hotel de L----, he made no objection, but entered into herplans with spirit; and, what was far more important, opened his pursereadily to her demands for the necessary expenses. So nothing wasstinted; the beautiful ballroom attached to the hotel was thrown open, and lavishly decorated with flowers, fountains, and twinkling lights;an awning extended from its windows right down the avenue of darkilex-trees, which were ornamented with Chinese lanterns; an elegantsupper was laid out in the large dining-room, and the wholeestablishment was en fete. The delicious strains of a Viennese bandfloated to our ears as Colonel Everard, his wife, and myself descendedthe staircase on our way to the scene of revelry; and suggestions offairyland were presented to us in the graceful girlish forms, clad inlight, diaphanous attire, that flitted here and there, or occasionallypassed us. Colonel Everard marched proudly along with the militarybearing that always distinguished him, now and then glancing admiringlyat his wife, who, indeed, looked her very best. Her dress was of thefinest Brussels lace, looped over a skirt of the palest shell-pinksatin; deep crimson velvet roses clustered on her breast, and nestledin her rich hair; a necklace of magnificent rubies clasped her neck, and the same jewels glittered on her round white arms. Her eyes shonewith pleasurable excitement, and the prettiest colour imaginable tintedher delicate cheeks. 

"When an American woman is lovely, she is very lovely, " I said. "Youwill be the belle of the room to-night, Amy!"

"Nonsense!" she replied, well pleased, though, at my remark. "You mustremember I have a rival in yourself. "

I shrugged my shoulders incredulously. 

"It is not like you to be sarcastic, " I said. "You know very well Ihave the air of a resuscitated corpse. "

The Colonel wheeled round suddenly, and brought us all up to astandstill before a great mirror. 

"If YOU are like a resuscitated corpse, I'll throw a hundred dollarsinto the next mud-pond, " he observed. "Look at yourself. "

I looked, at first indifferently, and then with searching scrutiny. Isaw a small, slender girl, clad in white, with a mass of gold hairtwisted loosely up from her neck, and fastened with a single star ofdiamonds. A superb garniture of natural lilies of the valley wasfastened on this girl's shoulder; and, falling loosely across herbreast, lost itself in the trailing folds of her gown. She held apalm-leaf fan entirely covered with lilies of the valley, and a girdleof the same flowers encircled her waist. Her face was serious, butcontented; her eyes were bright, but with an intense and thoughtfullustre; and her cheeks were softly coloured, as though a west wind hadblown freshly against them. There was nothing either attractive orrepulsive about her that I could see; and yet--I turned away from themirror hastily with a faint smile. 

"The lilies form the best part of my toilette, " I said. 

"That they do, " asserted Amy, with emphasis. "They are the finestspecimens I ever saw. It was real elegant of Mr. Cellini to send themall fixed up ready like that, fan and all. You must be a favourite ofhis!"

"Come, let us proceed, " I answered, with some abruptness. "We arelosing time. "

In a few seconds more we entered the ballroom, and were met at once byMadame Didier, who, resplendent in black lace and diamonds, gave ushearty greeting. She stared at me with unaffected amazement. 

"Mon dieu!" she exclaimed--her conversation with us was always amixture of French and broken English--"I should not 'ave know zis younglady again! She 'ave si bonne mine. You veel dance, sans doute?"

We readily assented, and the usual assortment of dancing-men of allages and sizes was brought forward for our inspection; while theColonel, being introduced to a beaming English girl of some seventeensummers, whirled her at once into the merry maze of dancers, who werespinning easily round to the lively melody of one of Strauss's mostfascinating waltzes. Presently I also found myself circling the roomwith an amiable young German, who ambled round with a certain amount ofcleverness, considering that he was evidently ignorant of the actualwaltz step; and I caught a glimpse now and then of Amy's rubies as theyflashed past me in the dance--she was footing it merrily with ahandsome Austrian Hussar. The room was pleasantly full--not too crowdedfor the movements of the dancers; and the whole scene was exceedinglypretty and animated. I had no lack of partners, and I was surprised tofind myself so keenly alive to enjoyment, and so completely free frommy usual preoccupied condition of nervous misery I looked everywherefor Raffaello Cellini, but he was not to be seen. The lilies that Iwore, which he had sent me, seemed quite unaffected by the heat andglare of the gaslight--not a leaf drooped, not a petal withered; andtheir remarkable whiteness and fragrance elicited many admiring remarksfrom those with whom I conversed. It was growing very late; there wereonly two more waltzes before the final cotillon. I was standing nearthe large open window of the ballroom, conversing with one of my recentpartners, when a sudden inexplicable thrill shot through me from headto foot. Instinctively I turned, and saw Cellini approaching. He lookedremarkably handsome, though his face was pale and somewhat wearied inexpression. He was laughing and conversing gaily with two ladies, oneof whom was Mrs. Everard; and as he came towards me he bowedcourteously, saying:

"I am too much honoured by the kindness mademoiselle has shown in notdiscarding my poor flowers. "

"They are lovely, " I replied simply; "and I am very much obliged toyou, signor, for sending them to me. "

"And how fresh they keep!" said Amy, burying her little nose in thefragrance of my fan; "yet they have been in the heat of the room allthe evening. "

"They cannot perish while mademoiselle wears them, " said Cellinigallantly. "Her breath is their life. "

"Bravo!" cried Amy, clapping her hands. "That is very prettily said, isn't it?"

I was silent. I never could endure compliments. They are seldomsincere, and it gives me no pleasure to be told lies, however prettilythey may be worded. Signor Cellini appeared to divine my thoughts, forhe said in a lower tone:

"Pardon me, mademoiselle; I see my observation displeased you; butthere is more truth in it than you perhaps know. "

"Oh, say!" interrupted Mrs. Everard at this juncture; "I am SOinterested, signor, to hear you are engaged! I suppose she is a dreamof beauty?"

The hot colour rushed to my cheeks, and I bit my lips in confusion andinquietude. What WOULD he answer? My anxiety was not of long duration. Cellini smiled, and seemed in no way surprised. He said quietly:

"Who told you, madame, that I am engaged?"

"Why, she did, of course!" went on my friend, nodding towards me, regardless of an imploring look I cast at her. "And said you wereperfectly devoted!"

"She is quite right, " replied Cellini, with another of those rare sweetsmiles of his; "and you also are right, madame, in your supposition: mybetrothed is a Dream of Beauty. "

I was infinitely relieved. I had not, then, been guilty of a falsehood. But the mystery remained: how had I discovered the truth of the matterat all? While I puzzled my mind over this question, the other lady whohad accompanied Mrs. Everard spoke. She was an Austrian of brilliantposition and attainments. 

"You quite interest me, signor!" she said. "Is your fair fiancee hereto-night?"

"No, madame, " replied Cellini; "she is not in this country. "

"What a pity!" exclaimed Amy. "I want to see her real bad. Don't you?"she asked, turning to me. 

I raised my eyes and met the dark clear ones of the artist fixed fullupon me. 

"Yes, " I said hesitatingly; "I should like to meet her. Perhaps thechance will occur at some future time. "

"There is not the slightest doubt about that, " said Cellini. "And now, mademoiselle, will you give me the pleasure of this waltz with you? orare you promised to another partner?"

I was not engaged, and I at once accepted his proffered arm. Twogentlemen came hurriedly up to claim Amy and her Austrian friend; andfor one brief moment Signor Cellini and I stood alone in acomparatively quiet corner of the ballroom, waiting for the music tobegin. I opened my lips to ask him a question, when he stopped me by aslight gesture of his hand. 

"Patience!" he said in a low and earnest tone. "In a few moments youshall have the opportunity you seek. "

The band burst forth just then in the voluptuous strains of a waltz byGung'l, and together we floated away to its exquisite gliding measure. I use the word FLOATED, advisedly, for no other term could express thedelightful sensation I enjoyed. Cellini was a superb dancer. It seemedto me that our feet scarcely touched the floor, so swiftly, so easilyand lightly we sped along. A few rapid turns, and I noticed we werenearing the open French windows, and, before I well realized it, we hadstopped dancing and were pacing quietly side by side down the ilexavenue, where the little lanterns twinkled like red fireflies and greenglow-worms among the dark and leafy branches. 

We walked along in silence till we reached the end of the path. There, before us, lay the open garden, with its broad green lawn, bathed inthe lovely light of the full moon, sailing aloft in a cloudless sky. The night was very warm, but, regardless of this fact, Cellini wrappedcarefully round me a large fleecy white burnous that he had taken froma chair where it was lying, on his way through the avenue. 

"I am not cold, " I said, smiling. 

"No; but you will be, perhaps. It is not wise to run any useless risks. "

I was again silent. A low breeze rustled in the tree-tops near us; themusic of the ballroom reached us only in faint and far echoes; thescent of roses and myrtle was wafted delicately on the balmy air; theradiance of the moon softened the outlines of the landscape into adreamy suggestiveness of its reality. Suddenly a sound broke on ourears--a delicious, long, plaintive trill; then a wonderful shower ofsparkling roulades; and finally, a clear, imploring, passionate noterepeated many times. It was a nightingale, singing as only thenightingales of the South can sing. I listened entranced. 

 "'Thou wast not born for death, immortal Bird! No hungry generations tread thee down; The voice I hear this passing night was heard In ancient days by emperor and clown, '"

quoted Cellini in earnest tones. 

"You admire Keats?" I asked eagerly. 

"More than any other poet that has lived, " he replied. "His was themost ethereal and delicate muse that ever consented to be tied down toearth. But, mademoiselle, you do not wish to examine me as to my tastein poetry. You have some other questions to put to me, have you not?"

For one instant I hesitated. Then I spoke out frankly, and answered:

"Yes, signor. What was there in that wine you gave me this morning?"

He met my searching gaze unflinchingly. 

"A medicine, " he said. "An excellent and perfectly simple remedy madeof the juice of plants, and absolutely harmless. "

"But why, " I demanded, "why did you give me this medicine? Was it notwrong to take so much responsibility upon yourself?"

He smiled. 

"I think not. If you are injured or offended, then I was wrong; but if, on the contrary, your health and spirits are ever so little improved, as I see they are, I deserve your thanks, mademoiselle. "

And he waited with an air of satisfaction and expectancy. I was puzzledand half-angry, yet I could not help acknowledging to myself that Ifelt better and more cheerful than I had done for many months. I lookedup at the artist's dark, intelligent face, and said almost humbly:

"I DO thank you, signor. But surely you will tell me your reasons forconstituting yourself my physician without even asking my leave. "

He laughed, and his eyes looked very friendly. 

"Mademoiselle, I am one of those strangely constituted beings whocannot bear to see any innocent thing suffer. It matters not whether itbe a worm in the dust, a butterfly in the air, a bird, a flower, or ahuman creature. The first time I saw you I knew that your state ofhealth precluded you from the enjoyment of life natural to your sex andage. I also perceived that the physicians had been at work upon youtrying to probe into the causes of your ailment, and that they hadsignally failed. Physicians, mademoiselle, are very clever andestimable men, and there are a few things which come within the limitof their treatment; but there are also other things which baffle theirutmost profundity of knowledge. One of these is that wondrous piece ofhuman machinery, the nervous system; that intricate and delicatenetwork of fine threads--electric wires on which run the messages ofthought, impulse, affection, emotion. If these threads or wires become, from any subtle cause, entangled, the skill of the mere medicalpractitioner is of no avail to undo the injurious knot, or to unravelthe confused skein. The drugs generally used in such cases are, for themost part, repellent to the human blood and natural instinct, thereforethey are always dangerous, and often deadly. I knew, by studying yourface, mademoiselle, that you were suffering as acutely as I, too, suffered some five years ago, and I ventured to try upon you a simplevegetable essence, merely to see if you were capable of benefiting byit. The experiment has been so far successful; but----"

He paused, and his face became graver and more abstracted. 

"But what?" I queried eagerly. 

"I was about to say, " he continued, "that the effect is onlytransitory. Within forty-eight hours you must naturally relapse intoyour former prostrate condition, and I, unfortunately, am powerless toprevent it. "

I sighed wearily, and a feeling of disappointment oppressed me. Was itpossible that I must again be the victim of miserable dejection, pain, and stupor?

"You can give me another dose of your remedy, " I said. 

"That I cannot, mademoiselle, " he answered regretfully; "I dare not, without further advice and guidance. "

"Advice and guidance from whom?" I inquired. 

"From the friend who cured me of my long and almost hopeless illness, "said Cellini. "He alone can tell me whether I am right in my theoriesrespecting your nature and constitution. "

"And what are those theories?" I asked, becoming deeply interested inthe conversation. 

Cellini was silent for a minute or so; he seemed absorbed in a sort ofinward communion with himself. Then he spoke with impressiveness andgravity:

"In this world, mademoiselle, there are no two natures alike, yet allare born with a small portion of Divinity within them, which we callthe Soul. It is a mere spark smouldering in the centre of the weight ofclay with which we are encumbered, yet it is there. Now this particulargerm or seed can be cultivated if we will--that is, if we desire andinsist on its growth. As a child's taste for art or learning can beeducated into high capabilities for the future, so can the human Soulbe educated into so high, so supreme an attainment, that no merelymortal standard of measurement can reach its magnificence. With muchmore than half the inhabitants of the globe, this germ of immortalityremains always a germ, never sprouting, overlaid and weighted down bythe lymphatic laziness and materialistic propensities of its shell orhusk--the body. But I must put aside the forlorn prospect of themultitudes in whom the Divine Essence attains to no larger quantitythan that proportioned out to a dog or bird--I have only to speak ofthe rare few with whom the soul is everything--those who, perceivingand admitting its existence within them, devote all their powers tofanning up their spark of light till it becomes a radiant, burning, inextinguishable flame. The mistake made by these examples of beatifiedHumanity is that they too often sacrifice the body to the demands ofthe spirit. It is difficult to find the medium path, but it can befound; and the claims of both body and soul can be satisfied withoutsacrificing the one to the other. I beg your earnest attention, mademoiselle, for what I say concerning THE RARE FEW WITH WHOM THE SOULIS EVERYTHING. YOU are one of those few, unless I am greatly in error. And you have sacrificed your body so utterly to your spirit that theflesh rebels and suffers. This will not do. You have work before you inthe world, and you cannot perform it unless you have bodily health aswell as spiritual desire. And why? Because you are a prisoner here onearth, and you must obey the laws of the prison, however unpleasantthey may be to you. Were you free as you have been in ages past and asyou will be in ages to come, things would be different; but at presentyou must comply with the orders of your gaolers--the Lords of Life andDeath. "

I heard him, half awed, half fascinated. His words were full ofmysterious suggestions. 

"How do you know I am of the temperament you describe?" I asked in alow voice. 

"I do not know, mademoiselle; I can only guess. There is but one personwho can perhaps judge of you correctly, --a man older than myself bymany years--whose life is the very acme of spiritual perfection--whoselearning is vast and unprejudiced. I must see and speak to him before Itry any more of my, or rather his, remedies. But we have lingered longenough out here, and unless you have something more to say to me, wewill return to the ballroom. You will otherwise miss the cotillon;" andhe turned to retrace the way through the illuminated grove. 

But a sudden thought had struck me, and I resolved to utter it aloud. Laying my hand on his arm and looking him full in the face, I saidslowly and distinctly:

"This friend of yours that you speak of--is not his name HELIOBAS?"

Cellini started violently; the blood rushed up to his brows and asquickly receded, leaving him paler than before. His dark eyes glowedwith suppressed excitement--his hand trembled. Recovering himselfslowly, he met my gaze fixedly; his glance softened, and he bent hishead with an air of respect and reverence. 

"Mademoiselle, I see that you must know all. It is your fate. You aregreatly to be envied. Come to me to-morrow, and I will tell youeverything that is to be told. Afterwards your destiny rests in yourown hands. Ask nothing more of me just now. "

He escorted me without further words back to the ballroom, where themerriment of the cotillon was then at its height. Whispering to Mrs. Everard as I passed her that I was tired and was going to bed, Ireached the outside passage, and there, turning to Cellini, I saidgently:

"Good-night, signor. To-morrow at noon I will come. "

He replied:

"Good-night, mademoiselle! To-morrow at noon you will find me ready. "

With that he saluted me courteously and turned away. I hurried up to myown room, and on arriving there I could not help observing theremarkable freshness of the lilies I wore. They looked as if they hadjust been gathered. I unfastened them all from my dress, and placedthem carefully in water; then quickly disrobing, I was soon in bed. Imeditated for a few minutes on the various odd occurrences of the day;but my thoughts soon grew misty and confused, and I travelled quicklyoff into the Land of Nod, and thence into the region of sleep, where Iremained undisturbed by so much as the shadow of a dream. 

CHAPTER V. 

CELLINI'S STORY. 

The following morning at the appointed hour, I went to Cellini'sstudio, and was received by him with a sort of gentle courtesy andkindliness that became him very well. I was already beginning toexperience an increasing languor and weariness, the sure forerunner ofwhat the artist had prophesied--namely, a return of all my oldsufferings. Amy, tired out by the dancing of the previous night, wasstill in bed, as were many of those who had enjoyed Madame Didier'sfete; and the hotel was unusually quiet, almost seeming as though halfthe visitors had departed during the night. It was a lovely morning, sunny and calm; and Cellini, observing that I looked listless andfatigued, placed a comfortable easy-chair for me near the window, fromwhence I could see one of the prettiest parterres of the garden, gaywith flowers of every colour and perfume. He himself remained standing, one hand resting lightly on his writing-table, which was strewn with aconfusion of letters and newspapers. 

"Where is Leo?" I asked, as I glanced round the room in search of thatnoble animal. 

"Leo left for Paris last night, " replied Cellini; "he carried animportant despatch for me, which I feared to trust to the post-office. "

"Is it safer in Leo's charge?" I inquired, smiling, for the sagacity ofthe dog amused as well as interested me. 

"Much safer! Leo carries on his collar a small tin case, just largeenough to contain several folded sheets of paper. When he knows he hasthat box to guard during his journeys, he is simply unapproachable. Hewould fight any one who attempted to touch it with the ferocity of ahungry tiger, and there is no edible dainty yet invented that couldtempt his appetite or coax him into any momentary oblivion of his duty. There is no more trustworthy or faithful messenger. "

"I suppose you have sent him to your friend--his master, " I said. 

"Yes. He has gone straight home to--Heliobas. "

This name now awakened in me no surprise or even curiosity. It simplysounded homelike and familiar. I gazed abstractedly out of the windowat the brilliant blossoms in the garden, that nodded their heads at melike so many little elves with coloured caps on, but I said nothing. Ifelt that Cellini watched me keenly and closely. Presently he continued:

"Shall I tell you everything now, mademoiselle?"

I turned towards him eagerly. 

"If you please, " I answered. 

"May I ask you one question?"

"Certainly. "

"How and where did you hear the name of Heliobas?"

I looked up hesitatingly. 

"In a dream, signor, strange to say; or rather in three dreams. I willrelate them to you. "

And I described the visions I had seen, being careful to omit nodetail, for, indeed, I remembered everything with curious distinctness. 

The artist listened with grave and fixed attention. When I hadconcluded he said:

"The elixir I gave you acted more potently than even I imagined itwould. You are more sensitive than I thought. Do not fatigue yourselfany more, mademoiselle, by talking. With your permission I will sitdown here opposite to you and tell you my story. Afterwards you mustdecide for yourself whether you will adopt the method of treatment towhich I owe my life, and something more than my life--my reason. "

He turned his own library-chair towards me, and seated himself. A fewmoments passed in silence; his expression was very earnest andabsorbed, and he regarded my face with a sympathetic interest whichtouched me profoundly. Though I felt myself becoming more and moreenervated and apathetic as the time went on, and though I knew I wasgradually sinking down again into my old Slough of Despond, yet I feltinstinctively that I was somehow actively concerned in what was aboutto be said, therefore I forced myself to attend closely to every worduttered. Cellini began to speak in low and quiet tones as follows:

"You must be aware, mademoiselle, that those who adopt any art as ameans of livelihood begin the world heavily handicapped--weighted down, as it were, in the race for fortune. The following of art is a verydifferent thing to the following of trade or mercantile business. Inbuying or selling, in undertaking the work of import or export, a goodhead for figures, and an average quantity of shrewd common sense, areall that is necessary in order to win a fair share of success. But inthe finer occupations, whose results are found in sculpture, painting, music and poetry, demands are made upon the imagination, the emotions, the entire spiritual susceptibility of man. The most delicate fibres ofthe brain are taxed; the subtle inner workings of thought are broughtinto active play; and the temperament becomes daily and hourly morefinely strung, more sensitive, more keenly alive to every passingsensation. Of course there are many so-called 'ARTISTS' who are mereshams of the real thing; persons who, having a little surface-educationin one or the other branch of the arts, play idly with the paint-brush, or dabble carelessly in the deep waters of literature, --or borrow a fewcrotchets and quavers from other composers, and putting them togetherin haste, call it ORIGINAL COMPOSITION. Among these are to be found theself-called 'professors' of painting; the sculptors who allow the workof their 'ghosts' to be admired as their own; the magazine-scribblers;the 'smart' young leader-writers and critics; the half-heartedperformers on piano or violin who object to any innovation, and preferto grind on in the unemotional, coldly correct manner which they arepleased to term the 'classical'--such persons exist, and will exist, solong as good and evil are leading forces of life. They are the aphideson the rose of art. But the men and women I speak of as ARTISTS arethose who work day and night to attain even a small degree ofperfection, and who are never satisfied with their own best efforts. Iwas one of these some years ago, and I humbly assert myself still to beof the same disposition; only the difference between myself then andmyself now is, that THEN I struggled blindly and despairingly, and NOWI labour patiently and with calmness, knowing positively that I shallobtain what I seek at the duly appointed hour. I was educated as apainter, mademoiselle, by my father, a good, simple-hearted man, whoselittle landscapes looked like bits cut out of the actual field andwoodland, so fresh and pure were they. But I was not content to followin the plain path he first taught me to tread. Merely correct drawing, merely correct colouring, were not sufficient for my ambition. I haddazzled my eyes with the loveliness of Correggio's 'Madonna, ' and hadmarvelled at the wondrous blue of her robe--a blue so deep and intensethat I used to think one might scrape away the paint till a hole wasbored in the canvas and yet not reach the end of that fathomless azuretint; I had studied the warm hues of Titian; I had felt ready to floataway in the air with the marvellous 'Angel of the Annunciation'--andwith all these thoughts in me, how could I content myself with theordinary aspiration of modern artists? I grew absorbed in onesubject--Colour. I noted how lifeless and pale the colouring of to-dayappeared beside that of the old masters, and I meditated deeply on theproblem thus presented to me. What was the secret of Correggio--of FraAngelico--of Raphael? I tried various experiments; I bought the mostexpensive and highly guaranteed pigments. In vain, for they were alladulterated by the dealers! Then I obtained colours in the rough, andground and mixed them myself; still, though a little better result wasobtained, I found trade adulteration still at work with the oils, thevarnishes, the mediums--in fact, with everything that painters use togain effect in their works. I could nowhere escape from viciousdealers, who, to gain a miserable percentage on every article sold, arecontent to be among the most dishonest men in this dishonest age. 

"I assure you, mademoiselle, that not one of the pictures which are nowbeing painted for the salons of Paris and London can possibly last ahundred years. I recently visited that Palace of Art, the SouthKensington Museum, in London, and saw there a large fresco by SirFrederick Leighton. It had just been completed, I was informed. It wasalready fading! Within a few years it will be a blur of indistinctoutlines. I compared its condition with the cartoons of Raphael, and asuperb Giorgione in the same building; these were as warm and bright asthough recently painted. It is not Leighton's fault that his works aredoomed to perish as completely off the canvas as though he had nevertraced them; it is his dire misfortune, and that of every othernineteenth-century painter, thanks to the magnificent institution offree trade, which has resulted in a vulgar competition of all countriesand all classes to see which can most quickly jostle the other out ofexistence. But I am wearying you, mademoiselle--pardon me! To resume myown story. As I told you, I could think of nothing but the one subjectof Colour; it haunted me incessantly. I saw in my dreams visions, ofexquisite forms and faces that I longed to transfer to my canvas, but Icould never succeed in the attempt. My hand seemed to have lost allskill. About this time my father died, and I, having no other relationin the world, and no ties of home to cling to, lived in utter solitude, and tortured my brain more and more with the one question that baffledand perplexed me. I became moody and irritable; I avoided intercoursewith everyone, and at last sleep forsook my eyes. Then came a terribleseason of feverish trouble, nervous dejection and despair. At times Iwould sit silently brooding; at others I started up and walked rapidlyfor hours, in the hope to calm the wild unrest that took possession ofmy brain. I was then living in Rome, in the studio that had been myfather's. One evening--how well I remember it!--I was attacked by oneof those fierce impulses that forbade me to rest or think or sleep, and, as usual, I hurried out for one of those long aimless excursions Ihad latterly grown accustomed to. At the open street-door stood theproprietress of the house, a stout, good-natured contadina, with heryoungest child Pippa holding to her skirt. As she saw me approaching, she started back with an exclamation of alarm, and catching the littlegirl up in her arms, she made the sign of the cross rapidly. Astonishedat this, I paused in my hasty walk, and said with as much calmness as Icould muster:

"'What do you mean by that? Have I the evil-eye, think you?'

"Curly-haired Pippa stretched out her arms to me--I had often caressedthe little one, and given her sweetmeats and toys--but her mother heldher back with a sort of smothered scream, and muttered:

"'Holy Virgin! Pippa must not touch him; he is mad. '

"Mad? I looked at the woman and child in scornful amazement. Thenwithout further words I turned, and went swiftly away down the streetout of their sight. Mad! Was I indeed losing my reason? Was this theterrific meaning of my sleepless nights, my troubled thoughts, mystrange inquietude? Fiercely I strode along, heedless whither I wasgoing, till I found myself suddenly on the borders of the desolateCampagna. A young moon gleamed aloft, looking like a slender sicklethrust into the heavens to reap an over-abundant harvest of stars. Ipaused irresolutely. There was a deep silence everywhere. I felt faintand giddy: curious flashes of light danced past my eyes, and my limbsshook like those of a palsied old man. I sank upon a stone to rest, totry and arrange my scattered ideas into some sort of connection andorder. Mad! I clasped my aching head between my hands, and brooded onthe fearful prospect looming before me, and in the words of poor KingLear, I prayed in my heart:

 "'O let me not be mad, not mad, sweet heavens!'

"PRAYER! There was another thought. How could _I_ pray? For I was asceptic. My father had educated me with broadly materialistic views; hehimself was a follower of Voltaire, and with his finite rod he took themeasure of Divinity, greatly to his own satisfaction. He was a goodman, too, and he died with exemplary calmness in the absolute certaintyof there being nothing in his composition but dust, to which he was asbound to return. He had not a shred of belief in anything but what hecalled the Universal Law of Necessity; perhaps this was why all hispictures lacked inspiration. I accepted his theories without thinkingmuch about them, and I had managed to live respectably without anyreligious belief. But NOW--now with the horrible phantom of madnessrising before me--my firm nerves quailed. I tried, I longed to PRAY. Yet to whom? To what? To the Universal Law of Necessity? In that therecould be no hearing or answering of human petitions. I meditated onthis with a kind of sombre ferocity. Who portioned out this Law ofNecessity? What brutal Code compels us to be born, to live, to suffer, and to die without recompense or reason? Why should this Universe be anever-circling Wheel of Torture? Then a fresh impetus came to me. I rosefrom my recumbent posture and stood erect; I trembled no more. Acurious sensation of defiant amusement possessed me so violently that Ilaughed aloud. Such a laugh, too! I recoiled from the sound, as from ablow, with a shudder. It was the laugh of--a madman! I thought no more;I was resolved. I would fulfil the grim Law of Necessity to its letter. If Necessity caused my birth, it also demanded my death. Necessitycould not force me to live against my will. Better eternal nothingnessthan madness. Slowly and deliberately I took from my vest a Milanesedagger of thin sharp steel--one that I always carried with me as ameans of self-defence--I drew it from its sheath, and looked at thefine edge glittering coldly in the pallid moon-rays. I kissed itjoyously; it was my final remedy! I poised it aloft with firmfingers--another instant and it would have been buried deep in myheart, when I felt a powerful grasp on my wrist, and a strong armstruggling with mine forced the dagger from my hand. Savagely angry atbeing thus foiled in my desperate intent, I staggered back a few pacesand sullenly stared at my rescuer. He was a tall man, clad in a darkovercoat bordered with fur; he looked like a wealthy Englishman orAmerican travelling for pleasure. His features were fine andcommanding; his eyes gleamed with a gentle disdain as he coolly met myresentful gaze. When he spoke his voice was rich and mellifluous, though his accents had a touch in them of grave scorn. 

"'So you are tired of your life, young man! All the more reason haveyou to live. Anyone can die. A murderer has moral force enough to jeerat his hangman. It is very easy to draw the last breath. It can beaccomplished successfully by a child or a warrior. One pang of far lessanguish than the toothache, and all is over. There is nothing heroicabout it, I assure you! It is as common as going to bed; it is almostprosy. LIFE is heroism, if you like; but death is a mere cessation ofbusiness. And to make a rapid and rude exit off the stage before theprompter gives the sign is always, to say the least of it, ungraceful. Act the part out, no matter how bad the play. What say you?'

"And, balancing the dagger lightly on one finger, as though it were apaper-knife, he smiled at me with so much frank kindliness that it wasimpossible to resist him. I advanced and held out my hand. 

"'Whoever you are, ' I said, 'you speak like a true man. But you areignorant of the causes which compelled me to---' and a hard sob chokedmy utterance. My new acquaintance pressed my proffered hand cordially, but the gravity of his tone did not vary as he replied:

"'There is no cause, my friend, which compels us to take violent leaveof existence, unless it be madness or cowardice. '

"'Aye, and what if it were madness?' I asked him eagerly. He scanned meattentively, and laying his fingers lightly on my wrist, felt my pulse. 

"'Pooh, my dear sir!' he said; 'you are no more mad than I am. You area little overwrought and excited--that I admit. You have some mentalworry that consumes you. You shall tell me all about it. I have nodoubt I can cure you in a few days. '

"Cure me? I looked at him in wonderment and doubt. 

"'Are you a physician?' I asked. 

"He laughed. 'Not I! I should be sorry to belong to the profession. YetI administer medicines and give advice in certain cases. I am simply aremedial agent--not a doctor. But why do we stand here in this bleakplace, which must be peopled by the ghosts of olden heroes? Come withme, will you? I am going to the Hotel Costanza, and we can talk there. As for this pretty toy, permit me to return it to you. You will notforce it again to the unpleasant task of despatching its owner. '

"And he handed the dagger back to me with a slight bow. I sheathed itat once, feeling somewhat like a chidden child, as I met the slightlysatirical gleam of the clear blue eyes that watched me. 

"'Will you give me your name, signor?' I asked, as we turned from theCampagna towards the city. 

"'With pleasure. I am called Heliobas. A strange name? Oh, not at all!It is pure Chaldee. My mother--as lovely an Eastern houri as Murillo'sMadonna, and as devout as Santa Teresa--gave me the Christian saint'sname of Casimir also, but Heliobas pur et simple suits me best, and byit I am generally known. '

"'You are a Chaldean?' I inquired. 

"'Exactly so. I am descended directly from one of those "wise men ofthe East" (and, by the way, there were more than three, and they werenot all kings), who, being wide awake, happened to notice thebirth-star of Christ on the horizon before the rest of the world'sinhabitants had so much as rubbed their sleepy eyes. The Chaldeans havebeen always quick of observation from time immemorial. But in returnfor my name, you will favour me with yours?'

"I gave it readily, and we walked on together. I felt wonderfullycalmed and cheered--as soothed, mademoiselle, as I have noticed youyourself have felt when in MY company. "

Here Cellini paused, and looked at me as though expecting a question;but I preferred to remain silent till I had heard all he had to say. Hetherefore resumed:

"We reached the Hotel Costanza, where Heliobas was evidently wellknown. The waiters addressed him as Monsieur le Comte; but he gave meno information as to this title. He had a superb suite of rooms in thehotel, furnished with every modern luxury; and as soon as we entered alight supper was served. He invited me to partake, and within the spaceof half an hour I had told him all my history--my ambition--mystrivings after the perfection of colour--my disappointment, dejection, and despair--and, finally, the fearful dread of coming madness that haddriven me to attempt my own life. He listened patiently and withunbroken attention. When I had finished, he laid one hand on myshoulder, and said gently:

"'Young man, pardon me if I say that up to the present your career hasbeen an inactive, useless, selfish "kicking against the pricks, " as St. Paul says. You set before yourself a task of noble effort, namely, todiscover the secret of colouring as known to the old masters; andbecause you meet with the petty difficulty of modern trade adulterationin your materials, you think that there is no chance--that all is lost. Fie! Do you think Nature is overcome by a few dishonest traders? Shecan still give you in abundance the unspoilt colours she gave toRaphael and Titian; but not in haste--not if you vulgarly scramble forher gifts in a mood that is impatient of obstacle and delay. "Ohnehast, ohne rast, " is the motto of the stars. Learn it well. You haveinjured your bodily health by useless fretfulness and peevishdiscontent, and with that we have first to deal. In a week's time, Iwill make a sound, sane man of you; and then I will teach you how toget the colours you seek--yes!' he added, smiling, 'even to thecompassing of Correggio's blue. '

"I could not speak for joy and gratitude; I grasped my friend andpreserver by the hand. We stood thus together for a brief interval, when suddenly Heliobas drew himself up to the full stateliness of hisheight and bent his calm eyes deliberately upon me. A strange thrillran through me; I still held his hand. 

"'Rest!' he said in slow and emphatic tones, 'Weary and overwroughtframe, take thy full and needful measure of repose! Struggling anddeeply injured spirit, be free of thy narrow prison! By that Forcewhich I acknowledge within me and thee and in all created things, Icommand thee, REST!'

"Fascinated, awed, overcome by his manner, I gazed at him and wouldhave spoken, but my tongue refused its office--my senses swam--my eyesclosed--my limbs gave way--I fell senseless. "

Cellini again paused and looked at me. Intent on his words, I would notinterrupt him. He went on:

"When I say senseless, mademoiselle, I allude of course to my body. ButI, myself--that is, my soul--was conscious; I lived, I moved, I heard, I saw. Of that experience I am forbidden to speak. When I returned tomortal existence I found myself lying on a couch in the same room whereI had supped with Heliobas, and Heliobas himself sat near me reading. It was broad noonday. A delicious sense of tranquillity and youthfulbuoyancy was upon me, and without speaking I sprang up from myrecumbent position and touched him on the arm. He looked up. 

"'Well?' he asked, and his eyes smiled. 

"I seized his hand, and pressed it reverently to my lips. 

"'My best friend!' I exclaimed. 'What wonders have I not seen--whattruths have I not learned--what mysteries!'

"'On all these things be silent, ' replied Heliobas. 'They must not belightly spoken of. And of the questions you naturally desire to ask me, you shall have the answers in due time. What has happened to you is notwonderful; you have simply been acted upon by scientific means. Butyour cure is not yet complete. A few days more passed with me willrestore you thoroughly. Will you consent to remain so long in mycompany?'

"Gladly and gratefully I consented, and we spent the next ten daystogether, during which Heliobas administered to me certain remedies, external and internal, which had a marvellous effect in renovating andinvigorating my system. By the expiration of that time I was strong andwell--a sound and sane man, as my rescuer had promised I should be--mybrain was fresh and eager for work, and my mind was filled with new andgrand ideas of art. And I had gained through Heliobas two inestimablethings--a full comprehension of the truth of religion, and the secretof human destiny; and I had won a LOVE so exquisite!"

Here Cellini paused, and his eyes were uplifted in a sort of wonderingrapture. He continued after a pause:

"Yes, mademoiselle, I discovered that I was loved, and watched over andguided by ONE so divinely beautiful, so gloriously faithful, thatmortal language fails before the description of such perfection!"

He paused again, and again continued:

"When he found me perfectly healthy again in mind and body, Heliobasshowed me his art of mixing colours. From that hour all my works weresuccessful. You know that my pictures are eagerly purchased as soon ascompleted, and that the colour I obtain in them is to the world amystery almost magical. Yet there is not one among the humblest ofartists who could not, if he chose, make use of the same means as Ihave done to gain the nearly imperishable hues that still glow on thecanvases of Raphael. But of this there is no need to speak just now. Ihave told you my story, mademoiselle, and it now rests with me to applyits meaning to yourself. You are attending?"

"Perfectly, " I replied; and, indeed, my interest at this point was sostrong that I could almost hear the expectant beating of my heart. Cellini resumed:

"Electricity, mademoiselle, is, as you are aware, the wonder of ourage. No end can be foreseen to the marvels it is capable ofaccomplishing. But one of the most important branches of this greatscience is ignorantly derided just now by the larger portion ofsociety--I mean the use of human electricity; that force which is ineach one of us--in you and in me--and, to a very large extent, inHeliobas. He has cultivated the electricity in his own system to suchan extent that his mere touch, his lightest glance, have healing inthem, or the reverse, as he chooses to exert his power--I may say it isnever the reverse, for he is full of kindness, sympathy, and pity forall humanity. His influence is so great that he can, without speaking, by his mere presence suggest his own thoughts to other people who areperfect strangers, and cause them to design and carry out certainactions in accordance with his plans. You are incredulous?Mademoiselle, this power is in every one of us; only we do notcultivate it, because our education is yet so imperfect. To prove thetruth of what I say, _I_, though I have only advanced a little way inthe cultivation of my own electric force, even _I_ have influenced YOU. You cannot deny it. By my thought, impelled to you, you saw clearly mypicture that was actually veiled. By MY force, you replied correctly toa question I asked you concerning that same picture. By MY desire, yougave me, without being aware of it, a message from one I love when yousaid, 'Dieu vous garde!' You remember? And the elixir I gave you, whichis one of the simplest remedies discovered by Heliobas, had the effectof making you learn what he intended you to learn--his name. "

"He!" I exclaimed. "Why, he does not know me--he can have no intentionstowards me!"

"Mademoiselle, " replied Cellini gravely, "if you will think again ofthe last of your three dreams, you will not doubt that he HASintentions towards you. As I told you, he is a PHYSICAL ELECTRICIAN. Bythat is meant a great deal. He knows by instinct whether he is or willbe needed sooner or later. Let me finish what I have to say. You areill, mademoiselle--ill from over-work. You are an improvisatrice--thatis, you have the emotional genius of music, a spiritual thingunfettered by rules, and utterly misunderstood by the world. Youcultivate this faculty, regardless of cost; you suffer, and you willsuffer more. In proportion as your powers in music grow, so will yourhealth decline. Go to Heliobas; he will do for you what he did for me. Surely you will not hesitate? Between years of weak invalidism andperfect health, in less than a fortnight, there can be no question ofchoice. "

I rose from my seat slowly. 

"Where is this Heliobas?" I asked. "In Paris?"

"Yes, in Paris. If you decide to go there, take my advice, and goalone. You can easily make some excuse to your friends. I will give youthe address of a ladies' Pension, where you will be made at home andcomfortable. May I do this?"

"If you please, " I answered. 

He wrote rapidly in pencil on a card of his own:

 "MADAME DENISE, "36, Avenue du Midi, "Paris, "

and handed it to me. I stood still where I had risen, thinking deeply. I had been impressed and somewhat startled by Cellini's story; but Iwas in no way alarmed at the idea of trusting myself to the hands of aphysical electrician such as Heliobas professed to be. I knew thatthere were many cases of serious illnesses being cured by means ofelectricity--that electric baths and electric appliances of alldescriptions were in ordinary use; and I saw no reason to be surprisedat the fact of a man being in existence who had cultivated electricforce within himself to such an extent that he was able to use it as ahealing power. There seemed to me to be really nothing extraordinary init. The only part of Cellini's narration I did not credit was thesoul-transmigration he professed to have experienced; and I put thatdown to the over-excitement of his imagination at the time of his firstinterview with Heliobas. But I kept this thought to myself. In anycase, I resolved to go to Paris. The great desire of my life was to bein perfect health, and I determined to omit no means of obtaining thisinestimable blessing. Cellini watched me as I remained standing beforehim in silent abstraction. 

"Will you go?" he inquired at last. 

"Yes; I will go, " I replied. "But will you give me a letter to yourfriend?"

"Leo has taken it and all necessary explanations already, " saidCellini, smiling; "I knew you would go. Heliobas expects you the dayafter to-morrow. His residence is Hotel Mars, Champs Elysees. You arenot angry with me, mademoiselle? I could not help knowing that youwould go. "

I smiled faintly. 

"Electricity again, I suppose! No, I am not angry. Why should I be? Ithank you very much, signor, and I shall thank you more if Heliobasindeed effects my cure. "

"Oh, that is certain, positively certain, " answered Cellini; "you canindulge that hope as much as you like, mademoiselle, for it is one thatcannot be disappointed. Before you leave me, you will look at your ownpicture, will you not?" and, advancing to his easel, he uncovered it. 

I was greatly surprised. I thought he had but traced the outline of myfeatures, whereas the head was almost completed. I looked at it as Iwould look at the portrait of a stranger. It was a wistful, sad-eyed, plaintive face, and on the pale gold of the hair rested a coronal oflilies. 

"It will soon be finished, " said Cellini, covering the easel again; "Ishall not need another sitting, which is fortunate, as it is sonecessary for you to go away. And now will you look at the 'Life andDeath' once more?"

I raised my eyes to the grand picture, unveiled that day in all itsbeauty. 

"The face of the Life-Angel there, " went on Cellini quietly, "is a poorand feeble resemblance of the One I love. You knew I was betrothed, mademoiselle?"

I felt confused, and was endeavouring to find an answer to this when hecontinued:

"Do not trouble to explain, for _I_ know how YOU knew. But no more ofthis. Will you leave Cannes to-morrow?"

"Yes. In the morning. "

"Then good-bye, mademoiselle. Should I never see you again---"

"Never see me again!" I interrupted. "Why, what do you mean?"

"I do not allude to your destinies, but to mine, " he said, with akindly look. "My business may call me away from here before you comeback--our paths may lie apart--many circumstances may occur to preventour meeting--so that, I repeat, should I never see you again, you will, I hope, bear me in your friendly remembrance as one who was sorry tosee you suffer, and who was the humble means of guiding you to renewedhealth and happiness. "

I held out my hand, and my eyes filled with tears. There was somethingso gentle and chivalrous about him, and withal so warm and sympathetic, that I felt indeed as if I were bidding adieu to one of the truestfriends I should ever have in my life. 

"I hope nothing will cause you to leave Cannes till I return to it, " Isaid with real earnestness. "I should like you to judge of myrestoration to health. "

"There will be no need for that, " he replied; "I shall know when youare quite recovered through Heliobas. "

He pressed my hand warmly. 

"I brought back the book you lent me, " I went on; "but I should like acopy of it for myself. Can I get it anywhere?"

"Heliobas will give you one with pleasure, " replied Cellini; "you haveonly to make the request. The book is not on sale. It was printed forprivate circulation only. And now, mademoiselle, we part. Icongratulate you on the comfort and joy awaiting you in Paris. Do notforget the address--Hotel Mars, Champs Elysees. Farewell!"

And again shaking my hand cordially, he stood at his door watching meas I passed out and began to ascend the stairs leading to my room. Onthe landing I paused, and, looking round, saw him still there. I smiledand waved my hand. He did the same in response, once--twice; thenturning abruptly, disappeared. 

That afternoon I explained to Colonel and Mrs. Everard that I hadresolved to consult a celebrated physician in Paris (whose name, however, I did not mention), and should go there alone for a few days. On hearing that I knew of a well-recommended ladies' Pension, they madeno objection to my arrangements, and they agreed to remain at the Hotelde L---till I returned. I gave them no details of my plans, and ofcourse never mentioned Raffaello Cellini in connection with the matter. A nervous and wretchedly agitated night made me more than everdetermined to try the means of cure proposed to me. At ten o'clock thefollowing morning I left Cannes by express train for Paris. Just beforestarting I noticed that the lilies of the valley Cellini had given mefor the dance had, in spite of my care, entirely withered, and werealready black with decay--so black that they looked as though they hadbeen scorched by a flash of lightning. 

CHAPTER VI. 

THE HOTEL MARS AND ITS OWNER. 

It was between three and four o'clock in the afternoon of the daysucceeding the night of my arrival in Paris, when I found myselfstanding at the door of the Hotel Mars, Champs Elysees. I had provedthe Pension kept by Madame Denise to be everything that could bedesired; and on my presentation of Raffaello Cellini's card ofintroduction, I had been welcomed by the maitresse de la maison with acordial effusiveness that amounted almost to enthusiasm. 

"Ce cher Cellini!" the cheery and pleasant little woman had exclaimed, as she set before me a deliciously prepared breakfast. "Je l'aime tant!Il a si bon coeur! et ses beaux yeux! Mon Dieu, comme un ange!"

As soon as I had settled the various little details respecting my roomand attendance, and had changed my travelling-dress for a quietvisiting toilette, I started for the abode of Heliobas. 

The weather was very cold; I had left the summer behind me at Cannes, to find winter reigning supreme in Paris. A bitter east wind blew, anda few flakes of snow fell now and then from the frowning sky. The houseto which I betook myself was situated at a commanding corner of a roadfacing the Champs Elysees. It was a noble-looking building. The broadsteps leading to the entrance were guarded on either side by asculptured Sphinx, each of whom held, in its massive stone paws, aplain shield, inscribed with the old Roman greeting to strangers, "Salve!" Over the portico was designed a scroll which bore the name"Hotel Mars" in clearly cut capitals, and the monogram "C. H. "

I ascended the steps with some hesitation, and twice I extended my handtowards the bell, desiring yet fearing to awaken its summons. I noticedit was an electric bell, not needing to be pulled but pressed; and atlast, after many doubts and anxious suppositions, I very gently laid myfingers on the little button which formed its handle. Scarcely had Idone this than the great door slid open rapidly without the leastnoise. I looked for the servant in attendance--there was none. I pausedan instant; the door remained invitingly open, and through it I caughta glimpse of flowers. Resolving to be bold, and to hesitate no longer, I entered. As I crossed the threshold, the door closed behind meinstantly with its previous swiftness and silence. 

I found myself in a spacious hall, light and lofty, surrounded withfluted pillars of white marble. In the centre a fountain bubbledmelodiously, and tossed up every now and then a high jet of sparklingspray, while round its basin grew the rarest ferns and exotics, whichemitted a subtle and delicate perfume. No cold air penetrated here; itwas as warm and balmy as a spring day in Southern Italy. Light Indianbamboo chairs provided with luxurious velvet cushions were placed invarious corners between the marble columns, and on one of these Iseated myself to rest a minute, wondering what I should do next, andwhether anyone would come to ask me the cause of my intrusion. Mymeditations were soon put to flight by the appearance of a young lad, who crossed the hall from the left-hand side and approached me. He wasa handsome boy of twelve or thirteen years of age, and he was attiredin a simple Greek costume of white linen, relieved with a broad crimsonsilk sash. A small flat crimson cap rested on his thick black curls;this he lifted with deferential grace, and, saluting me, saidrespectfully:

"My master is ready to receive you, mademoiselle. "

I rose without a word and followed him, scarcely permitting myself tospeculate as to how his master knew I was there at all. 

The hall was soon traversed, and the lad paused before a magnificentcurtain of deep crimson velvet, heavily bordered with gold. Pulling atwisted cord that hung beside it, the heavy, regal folds parted intwain with noiseless regularity, and displayed an octagon room, soexquisitely designed and ornamented that I gazed upon it as upon somerare and beautiful picture. It was unoccupied, and my young escortplaced a chair for me near the central window, informing me as he didso that "Monsieur le Comte" would be with me instantly; whereupon hedeparted. 

Left alone, I gazed in bewilderment at the loveliness round me. Thewalls and ceiling were painted in fresco. I could not make out thesubjects, but I could see faces of surpassing beauty smiling fromclouds, and peering between stars and crescents. The furniture appearedto be of very ancient Arabian design; each chair was a perfectmasterpiece of wood-carving, picked out and inlaid with gold. The sightof a semi-grand piano, which stood open, brought me back to therealization that I was living in modern times, and not in a dream ofthe Arabian Nights; while the Paris Figaro and the London Times--bothof that day's issue--lying on a side-table, demonstrated the nineteenthcentury to me with every possible clearness. There were flowerseverywhere in this apartment--in graceful vases and in gilded osierbaskets--and a queer lop-sided Oriental jar stood quite near me, filledalmost to overflowing with Neapolitan violets. Yet it was winter inParis, and flowers were rare and costly. 

Looking about me, I perceived an excellent cabinet photograph ofRaffaello Cellini, framed in antique silver; and I rose to examine itmore closely, as being the face of a friend. While I looked at it, Iheard the sound of an organ in the distance playing softly an oldfamiliar church chant. I listened. Suddenly I bethought myself of thethree dreams that had visited me, and a kind of nervous dread came uponme. This Heliobas, --was I right after all in coming to consult him? Washe not perhaps a mere charlatan? and might not his experiments upon meprove fruitless, and possibly fatal? An idea seized me that I wouldescape while there was yet time. Yes! ... I would not see him to-day, at any rate; I would write and explain. These and other disjointedthoughts crossed my mind; and yielding to the unreasoning impulse offear that possessed me, I actually turned to leave the room, when I sawthe crimson velvet portiere dividing again in its regular and gracefulfolds, and Heliobas himself entered. 

I stood mute and motionless. I knew him well; he was the very man I hadseen in my third and last dream; the same noble, calm features; thesame commanding presence; the same keen, clear eyes; the samecompelling smile. There was nothing extraordinary about his appearanceexcept his stately bearing and handsome countenance; his dress was thatof any well-to-do gentleman of the present day, and there was noaffectation of mystery in his manner. He advanced and bowedcourteously; then, with a friendly look, held out his hand. I gave himmine at once. 

"So you are the young musician?" he said, in those warm mellifluousaccents that I had heard before and that I so well remembered. "Myfriend Raffaello Cellini has written to me about you. I hear you havebeen suffering from physical depression?"

He spoke as any physician might do who inquired after a patient'shealth. I was surprised and relieved. I had prepared myself forsomething darkly mystical, almost cabalistic; but there was nothingunusual in the demeanour of this pleasant and good-looking gentlemanwho, bidding me be seated, took a chair himself opposite to me, andobserved me with that sympathetic and kindly interest which anywell-bred doctor would esteem it his duty to exhibit. I became quite atease, and answered all his questions fully and frankly. He felt mypulse in the customary way, and studied my face attentively. Idescribed all my symptoms, and he listened with the utmost patience. When I had concluded, he leaned back in his chair and appeared toponder deeply for some moments. Then he spoke. 

"You know, of course, that I am not a doctor?"

"I know, " I said; "Signer Cellini explained to me. "

"Ah!" and Heliobas smiled. "Raffaello explained as much as he might;but not everything. I must tell you I have a simple pharmacopoeia of myown--it contains twelve remedies, and only twelve. In fact there me nomore that are of any use to the human mechanism. All are made of thejuice of plants, and six of them are electric. Raffaello tried you withone of them, did he not?"

As he put this question, I was aware of a keenly inquiring look sentfrom the eyes of my interrogator into mine. 

"Yes, " I answered frankly, "and it made me dream, and I dreamt of YOU. "

Heliobas laughed lightly. 

"So!--that is well. Now I am going in the first place to give you whatI am sure will be satisfactory information. If you agree to trustyourself to my care, you will be in perfect health in a little lessthan a fortnight--but you must follow my rules exactly. "

I started up from my seat. 

"Of course!" I exclaimed eagerly, forgetting all my previous fear ofhim; "I will do all you advise, even if you wish to magnetize me as youmagnetized Signor Cellini!"

"I never MAGNETIZED Raffaello, " he said gravely; "he was on the vergeof madness, and he had no faith whereby to save himself. I simply sethim free for a time, knowing that his was a genius which would find outthings for itself or perish in the effort. I let him go on a voyage ofdiscovery, and he came back perfectly satisfied. That is all. You donot need his experience. "

"How do you know?" I asked. 

"You are a woman--your desire is to be well and strong, health beingbeauty--to love and to be beloved--to wear pretty toilettes and to beadmired; and you have a creed which satisfies you, and which youbelieve in without proofs. "

There was the slightest possible tinge of mockery in his voice as hesaid these words. A tumultuous rush of feelings overcame me. My highdreams of ambition, my innate scorn of the trite and commonplace, mydeep love of art, my desires of fame--all these things bore down uponmy heart and overcame it, and a pride too deep for tears arose in meand found utterance. 

"You think I am so slight and weak a thing!" I exclaimed. "YOU, whoprofess to understand the secrets of electricity--you have no betterinstinctive knowledge of me than that! Do you deem women all alike--allon one common level, fit for nothing but to be the toys or drudges ofmen? Can you not realize that there are some among them who despise theinanities of everyday life--who care nothing for the routine ofsociety, and whose hearts are filled with cravings that no mere humanlove or life can satisfy? Yes--even weak women are capable ofgreatness; and if we do sometimes dream of what we cannot accomplishthrough lack of the physical force necessary for large achievements, that is not our fault but our misfortune. We did not create ourselves. We did not ask to be born with the over-sensitiveness, the fataldelicacy, the highly-strung nervousness of the feminine nature. Monsieur Heliobas, you are a learned and far-seeing man, I have nodoubt; but you do not read me aright if you judge me as a mere womanwho is perfectly contented with the petty commonplaces of ordinaryliving. And as for my creed, what is it to you whether I kneel in thesilence of my own room or in the glory of a lighted cathedral to pourout my very soul to ONE whom I know exists, and whom I am satisfied tobelieve in, as you say, without proofs, save such proofs as I obtainfrom my own inner consciousness? I tell you, though, in your opinion itis evident my sex is against me, I would rather die than sink into themiserable nonentity of such lives as are lived by the majority ofwomen. "

I paused, overcome by my own feelings. Heliobas smiled. 

"So! You are stung!" he said quietly; "stung into action. That is as itshould be. Resume your seat, mademoiselle, and do not be angry with me. I am studying you for your own good. In the meantime permit me toanalyze your words a little. You are young and inexperienced. You speakof the 'over-sensitiveness, the fatal delicacy, the highly-strungnervousness of the feminine nature. ' My dear lady, if you had lived aslong as I have, you would know that these are mere stock phrases--forthe most part meaningless. As a rule, women are less sensitive thanmen. There are many of your sex who are nothing but lumps of lymph andfatty matter--women with less instinct than the dumb beasts, and withmore brutality. There are others who, --adding the low cunning of themonkey to the vanity of the peacock, --seek no other object but thefurtherance of their own designs, which are always petty even when notabsolutely mean. There are obese women whose existence is a dozebetween dinner and tea. There are women with thin lips and pointednoses, who only live to squabble over domestic grievances and interferein their neighbours' business. There are your murderous women withlarge almond eyes, fair white hands, and voluptuous red lips, who, deprived of the dagger or the poison-bowl, will slay a reputation in afew lazily enunciated words, delivered with a perfectly high-bredaccent. There are the miserly woman, who look after cheese-parings andcandle-ends, and lock up the soap. There are the spiteful women whosevery breath is acidity and venom. There are the frivolous women whosechitter-chatter and senseless giggle are as empty as the rattling ofdry peas on a drum. In fact, the delicacy of women is extremelyoverrated--their coarseness is never done full justice to. I have heardthem recite in public selections of a kind that no man would dare toundertake--such as Tennyson's 'Rizpah, ' for instance. I know a womanwho utters every line of it, with all its questionable allusions, boldly before any and everybody, without so much as an attempt atblushing. I assure you men are far more delicate than women--far morechivalrous--far larger in their views, and more generous in theirsentiments. But I will not deny the existence of about four women inevery two hundred and fifty, who may be, and possibly are, examples ofwhat the female sex was originally intended to be--pure-hearted, self-denying, gentle and truthful--filled with tenderness andinspiration. Heaven knows my own mother was all this and more! And mysister is--. But let me speak to you of yourself. You love music, Iunderstand--you are a professional artist?"

"I was, " I answered, "till my state of health stopped me from working. "

Heliobas bent his eyes upon me in friendly sympathy. 

"You were, and you will be again, an improvisatrice" he went on. "Doyou not find it difficult to make your audiences understand your aims?"

I smiled as the remembrance of some of my experiences in public came tomy mind. 

"Yes, " I said, half laughing. "In England, at least, people do not knowwhat is meant by IMPROVISING. They think it is to take a little themeand compose variations on it--the mere ABC of the art. But to sit downto the piano and plan a whole sonata or symphony in your head, and playit while planning it, is a thing they do not and will not understand. They come to hear, and they wonder and go away, and the critics declareit to be CLAP-TRAP. "

"Exactly!" replied Heliobas. "But you are to be congratulated on havingattained this verdict. Everything that people cannot quite understandis called CLAP-TRAP in England; as for instance the matchlessviolin-playing of Sarasate; the tempestuous splendor of Rubinstein; thewailing throb of passion in Hollmann's violoncello--this is, accordingto the London press, CLAP-TRAP; while the coldly correct performancesof Joachim and the 'icily-null' renderings of Charles Halle are voted'magnificent' and 'full of colour. ' But to return to yourself. Will youplay to me?"

"I have not touched the instrument for two months, " I said; "I amafraid I am out of practice. "

"Then you shall not exert yourself to-day, " returned Heliobas kindly. "But I believe I can help you with your improvisations. You compose themusic as you play, you tell me. Well, have you any idea how themelodies or the harmonies form themselves in your brain?"

"Not the least in the world, " I replied. 

"Is the act of thinking them out an effort to you?" he asked. 

"Not at all. They come as though someone else were planning them forme. "

"Well, well! I think I can certainly be of use to you in this matter asin others. I understand your temperament thoroughly. And now let megive you my first prescription. "

He went to a corner of the room and lifted from the floor an ebonycasket, curiously carved and ornamented with silver. This he unlocked. It contained twelve flasks of cut glass, stoppered with gold andnumbered in order. He next pulled out a side drawer in this casket, andin it I saw several little thin empty glass tubes, about the size of acigarette-holder. Taking two of these he filled them from two of thelarger flasks, corked them tightly, and then turning to me, said:

"To-night, on going to bed, have a warm bath, empty the contents of thetube marked No. 1 into it, and then immerse yourself thoroughly forabout five minutes. After the bath, put the fluid in this other tubemarked 2, into a tumbler of fresh spring water, and drink it off. Thengo straight to bed. "

"Shall I have any dreams?" I inquired with a little anxiety. 

"Certainly not, " replied Heliobas, smiling. "I wish you to sleep assoundly as a year-old child. Dreams are not for you to-night. Can youcome to me tomorrow afternoon at five o'clock? If you can arrange tostay to dinner, my sister will be pleased to meet you; but perhaps youare otherwise engaged?"

I told him I was not, and explained where I had taken rooms, addingthat I had come to Paris expressly to put myself under his treatment. 

"You shall have no cause to regret this journey, " he said earnestly. "Ican cure you thoroughly, and I will. I forget your nationality--you arenot English?"

"No, not entirely. I am half Italian. "

"Ah, yes! I remember now. But you have been educated in England?"

"Partly. "

"I am glad it is only partly, " remarked Heliobas. "If it had beenentirely, your improvisations would have had no chance. In fact younever would have improvised. You would have played the piano like poormechanical Arabella Goddard. As it is, there is some hope oforiginality in you--you need not be one of the rank and file unless youchoose. "

"I do not choose, " I said. 

"Well, but you must take the consequences, and they are bitter. A womanwho does not go with her time is voted eccentric; a woman who prefersmusic to tea and scandal is an undesirable acquaintance; and a womanwho prefers Byron to Austin Dobson is--in fact, no measure can gaugeher general impossibility!" I laughed gaily. "I will take all theconsequences as willingly as I will take your medicines, " I said, stretching out my hand for the little vases which he gave me wrapped inpaper. "And I thank you very much, monsieur. And"--here I hesitated. Ought I not to ask him his fee? Surely the medicines ought to be paidfor?

Heliobas appeared to read my thoughts, for he said, as though answeringmy unuttered question:

"I do not accept fees, mademoiselle. To relieve your mind from anyresponsibility of gratitude to me, I will tell you at once that I neverpromise to effect a cure unless I see that the person who comes to becured has a certain connection with myself. If the connection exists Iam bound by fixed laws to serve him or her. Of course I am able also tocure those who are NOT by nature connected with me; but then I have toESTABLISH a connection, and this takes time, and is sometimes verydifficult to accomplish, almost as tremendous a task as the laying downof the Atlantic cable. But in your case I am actually COMPELLED to domy best for you, so you need be under no sense of obligation. "

Here was a strange speech--the first really inexplicable one I hadheard from his lips. 

"I am connected with you?" I asked, surprised. "How? In what way?"

"It would take too long to explain to you just now, " said Heliobasgently; "but I can prove to you in a moment that a connection DOESexist between YOUR inner self, and MY inner self, if you wish it. "

"I do wish it very much, " I answered. 

"Then take my hand, " continued Heliobas, stretching it out, "and looksteadily at me. "

I obeyed, half trembling. As I gazed, a veil appeared to fall from myeyes. A sense of security, of comfort, and of absolute confidence cameupon me, and I saw what might be termed THE IMAGE OF ANOTHER FACElooking at me THROUGH or BEHIND the actual form and face of Heliobas. And that other face was his, and yet not his; but whatever it appearedto be, it was the face of a friend to ME, one that I was certain I hadknown long, long ago, and moreover one that I must have loved in somedistant time, for my whole soul seemed to yearn towards that indistincthaze where smiled the fully recognised yet unfamiliar countenance. Thisstrange sensation lasted but a few seconds, for Heliobas suddenlydropped my hand. The room swam round me; the walls seemed to rock; theneverything steadied and came right again, and all was as usual, only Iwas amazed and bewildered. 

"What does it mean?" I murmured. 

"It means the simplest thing in nature, " replied Heliobas quietly, "namely, that your soul and mine are for some reason or other placed onthe same circle of electricity. Nothing more nor less. Therefore wemust serve each other. Whatever I do for you, you have it in your powerto repay me amply for hereafter. "

I met the steady glance of his keen eyes, and a sense of someindestructible force within me gave me a sudden courage. 

"Decide for me as you please, " I answered fearlessly. "I trust youcompletely, though I do not know why I do so. "

"You will know before long. You are satisfied of the fact that my touchcan influence you?"

"Yes; most thoroughly. "

"Very well. All other explanations, if you desire them, shall be givenyou in due time. In the power I possess over you and some others, thereis neither mesmerism nor magnetism--nothing but a purely scientificfact which can be clearly and reasonably proved and demonstrated. Buttill you are thoroughly restored to health, we will defer alldiscussion. And now, mademoiselle, permit me to escort you to the door. I shall expect you to-morrow. "

Together we left the beautiful room in which this interview had takenplace, and crossed the hall. As we approached the entrance, Heliobasturned towards me and said with a smile:

"Did not the manoeuvres of my street-door astonish you?"

"A little, " I confessed. 

"It is very simple. The button you touch outside is electric; it opensthe door and at the same time rings the bell in my study, thusinforming me of a visitor. When the visitor steps across the thresholdhe treads, whether he will or no, on another apparatus, which closesthe door behind him and rings another bell in my page's room, whoimmediately comes to me for orders. You see how easy? And from withinit is managed in almost the same manner. "

And he touched a handle similar to the one outside, and the door openedinstantly. Heliobas held out his hand--that hand which a few minutespreviously had exercised such strange authority over me. 

"Good-bye, mademoiselle. You are not afraid of me now?"

I laughed. "I do not think I was ever really afraid of you, " I said. "If I was, I am not so any longer. You have promised me health, andthat promise is sufficient to give me entire courage. "

"That is well, " said Heliobas. "Courage and hope in themselves are theprecursors of physical and mental energy. Remember to-morrow at five, and do not keep late hours to-night. I should advise you to be in bedby ten at the latest. "

I agreed to this, and we shook hands and parted. I walked blithelyalong, back to the Avenue du Midi, where, on my arrival indoors, Ifound a letter from Mrs. Everard. She wrote "in haste" to give me thenames of some friends of hers whom she had discovered, through the"American Register, " to be staying at the Grand Hotel. She begged me tocall upon them, and enclosed two letters of introduction for thepurpose. She concluded her epistle by saying:

"Raffaello Cellini has been invisible ever since your departure, butour inimitable waiter, Alphonse, says he is very busy finishing apicture for the Salon--something that we have never seen. I shallintrude myself into his studio soon on some pretence or other, and willthen let you know all about it. In the meantime, believe me, "Your ever devoted friend, AMY. "

I answered this letter, and then spent a pleasant evening at thePension, chatting sociably with Madame Denise and another cheery littleFrenchwoman, a day governess, who boarded there, and who had no end ofdroll experiences to relate, her enviable temperament being to alwayssee the humorous side of life. I thoroughly enjoyed her sparklingchatter and her expressive gesticulations, and we all three madeourselves merry till bedtime. Acting on the advice of Heliobas, Iretired early to my room, where a warm bath had been prepared incompliance with my orders. I uncorked the glass tube No. 1, and pouredthe colourless fluid it contained into the water, which immediatelybubbled gently, as though beginning to boil. After watching it for aminute or two, and observing that this seething movement steadilycontinued, I undressed quickly and stepped in. Never shall I forget theexquisite sensation I experienced! I can only describe it as the poorlittle Doll's Dressmaker in "Our Mutual Friend" described her angelvisitants, her "blessed children, " who used to come and "take her upand make her light. " If my body had been composed of no grosser matterthan fire and air, I could not have felt more weightless, more buoyant, more thoroughly exhilarated than when, at the end of the prescribedfive minutes, I got out of that marvellous bath of healing! As Iprepared for bed, I noticed that the bubbling of the water had entirelyceased; but this was easy of comprehension, for if it had containedelectricity, as I supposed, my body had absorbed it by contact, whichwould account for the movement being stilled. I now took the secondlittle phial, and prepared it as I had been told. This time the fluidwas motionless. I noticed it was very faintly tinged with amber. Idrank it off--it was perfectly tasteless. Once in bed, I seemed to haveno power to think any more--my eyes closed readily--the slumber of ayear-old child, as Heliobas had said, came upon me with resistless andsudden force, and I remembered no more. 

CHAPTER VII. 

ZARA AND PRINCE IVAN. 

The sun poured brilliantly into my room when I awoke the next morning. I was free from all my customary aches and pains, and a delightfulsense of vigour and elasticity pervaded my frame. I rose at once, and, looking at my watch, found to my amazement that it was twelve o'clockin the day! Hastily throwing on my dressing-gown, I rang the bell, andthe servant appeared. 

"Is it actually mid-day?" I asked her. "Why did you not call me?"

The girl smiled apologetically. 

"I did knock at mademoiselle's door, but she gave me no answer. MadameDenise came up also, and entered the room; but seeing mademoiselle inso sound a sleep, she said it was a pity to disturb mademoiselle. "

Which statement good Madame Denise, toiling upstairs just then withdifficulty, she being stout and short of breath, confirmed with manysmiling nods of her head. 

"Breakfast shall be served at the instant, " she said, rubbing her fathands together; "but to disturb you when you slept--ah, Heaven! thesleep of an infant--I could not do it! I should have been wicked!"

I thanked her for her care of me; I could have kissed her, she lookedso motherly, and kind, and altogether lovable. And I felt so merry andwell! She and the servant retired to prepare my coffee, and I proceededto make my toilette. As I brushed out my hair I heard the sound of aviolin. Someone was playing next door. I listened, and recognised afamous Beethoven Concerto. The unseen musician played brilliantly andwithal tenderly, both touch and tone reminding me of some beautifulverses in a book of poems I had recently read, called "Love-Letters ofa Violinist, " in which the poet [FOOTNOTE: Author of the equallybeautiful idyl, "Gladys the Singer, " included in the new Americancopyright edition just issued. ] talks of his "loved Amati, " and says:"I prayed my prayer. I wove into my song

 Fervour, and joy, and mystery, and the bleak, The wan despair that words could never speak. I prayed as if my spirit did belong To some old master who was wise and strong, Because he lov'd and suffered, and was weak. 

 "I trill'd the notes, and curb'd them to a sigh, And when they falter'd most, I made them leap Fierce from my bow, as from a summer sleep A young she-devil. I was fired thereby To bolder efforts--and a muffled cry Came from the strings as if a saint did weep. 

 "I changed the theme. I dallied with the bow Just time enough to fit it to a mesh Of merry tones, and drew it back afresh, To talk of truth, and constancy, and woe, And life, and love, and madness, and the glow Of mine own soul which burns into my flesh. "

All my love for music welled freshly up in my heart; I, who had feltdisinclined to touch the piano for months, now longed to try mystrength again upon the familiar and responsive key-board. For a pianohas never been a mere piano to me; it is a friend who answers to mythought, and whose notes meet my fingers with caressing readiness andobedience. 

Breakfast came, and I took it with great relish. Then, to pass the day, I went out and called on Mrs. Everard's friends, Mr. And Mrs. Challonerand their daughters. I found them very agreeable, with that easybonhomie and lack of stiffness that distinguishes the best Americans. Finding out through Mrs. Everard's letter that I was an "artiste" theyat once concluded I must need support and patronage, and with impulsivelarge-heartedness were beginning to plan as to the best means oforganizing a concert for me. I was taken by surprise at this, for I hadgenerally found the exact reverse of this sympathy among Englishpatrons of art, who were never tired of murmuring the usual platitudesabout there being "so many musicians, " "music was overdone, ""improvising was not understood or cared for, " etc. , etc. 

But these agreeable Americans, as soon as they discovered that I hadnot come for any professional reason to Paris, but only to consult aphysician about my health, were actually disappointed. 

"Oh, we shall persuade you to give a recital some time!" persisted thehandsome smiling mother of the family. "I know lots of people in Paris. We'll get it up for you!"

I protested, half laughing, that I had no idea of the kind, but theywere incorrigibly generous. 

"Nonsense!" said Mrs. Challoner, arranging her diamond rings on herpretty white hand with pardonable pride. "Brains don't go for nothingin OUR country. As soon as you are fixed up in health, we'll give you agrand soiree in Paris, and we'll work up all our folks in the place. Don't tell me you are not as glad of dollars as any one of us. "

"Dollars are very good, " I admitted, "but real appreciation is farbetter. "

"Well, you shall have both from us, " said Mrs. Challoner. "And now, will you stop to luncheon?"

I accepted this invitation, given as it was with the most friendlyaffability, and enjoyed myself very much. 

"You don't look ill, " said the eldest Miss Challoner to me, later on. "I don't see that you want a physician. "

"Oh, I am getting much better now, " I replied; "and I hope soon to bequite well. "

"Who's your doctor?"

I hesitated. Somehow the name of Heliobas would not come to my lips. Fortunately Mrs. Challoner diverted her daughter's attention at thismoment by the announcement that a dressmaker was waiting to see her;and in the face of such an important visit, no one remembered to ask meagain the name of my medical adviser. 

I left the Grand Hotel in good time to prepare for my second visit toHeliobas. As I was going there to dinner I made a slightly dressytoilette, if a black silk robe relieved with a cluster of pale pinkroses can be called dressy. This time I drove to the Hotel Mars, dismissing the coachman, however, before ascending the steps. The dooropened and closed as usual, and the first person I saw in the hall wasHeliobas himself, seated in one of the easy-chairs, reading a volume ofPlato. He rose and greeted me cordially. Before I could speak a word, he said:

"You need not tell me that you slept well. I see it in your eyes andface. You feel better?"

My gratitude to him was so great that I found it difficult to expressmy thanks. Tears rushed to my eyes, yet I tried to smile, though Icould not speak. He saw my emotion, and continued kindly:

"I am as thankful as you can be for the cure which I see has begun, andwill soon be effected. My sister is waiting to see you. Will you cometo her room?"

We ascended a flight of stairs thickly carpeted, and bordered on eachside by tropical ferns and flowers, placed in exquisitely painted chinapots and vases. I heard the distant singing of many birds mingled withthe ripple and plash of waters. We reached a landing where theafterglow of the set sun streamed through a high oriel window of richlystained glass. Turning towards the left, Heliobas drew aside the foldsof some azure satin hangings, and calling in a low voice "Zara!"motioned me to enter. I stepped into a spacious and lofty apartmentwhere the light seemed to soften and merge into many shades of opalineradiance and delicacy--a room the beauty of which would at any othertime have astonished and delighted me, but which now appeared asnothing beside the surpassing loveliness of the woman who occupied it. Never shall I behold again any face or form so divinely beautiful! Shewas about the medium height of women, but her small finely-shaped headwas set upon so slender and proud a throat that she appeared tallerthan she actually was. Her figure was most exquisitely rounded andproportioned, and she came across the room to give me greeting with asort of gliding graceful movement, like that of a stately swan floatingon calm sunlit water. Her complexion was transparently clear--mostpurely white, most delicately rosy, Her eyes--large, luminous and darkas night, fringed with long silky black lashes--looked like

 "Fairy lakes, where tender thoughts Swam softly to and fro. "

Her rich black hair was arranged a la Marguerite, and hung down in onelong loose thick braid that nearly reached the end of her dress, andshe was attired in a robe of deep old gold Indian silk as soft ascashmere, which was gathered in round her waist by an antique belt ofcurious jewel-work, in which rubies and turquoises seemed to be thicklystudded. On her bosom shone a strange gem, the colour and form of whichI could not determine. It was never the same for two minutes together. It glowed with many various hues--now bright crimson, nowlightning-blue, sometimes deepening into a rich purple or tawny orange. Its lustre was intense, almost dazzling to the eye. Its beautifulwearer gave me welcome with a radiant smile and a few cordial words, and drawing me by the hand to the low couch she had just vacated, mademe sit down beside her. Heliobas had disappeared. 

"And so, " said Zara--how soft and full of music was her voice!--"so youare one of Casimir's patients? I cannot help considering that you arefortunate in this, for I know my brother's power. If he says he willcure you, you may be sure he means it. And you are already better, areyou not?"

"Much better, " I said, looking earnestly into the lovely star-like eyesthat regarded me with such interest and friendliness. "Indeed, to-day Ihave felt so well, that I cannot realize ever having been ill. "

"I am very glad, " said Zara, "I know you are a musician, and I thinkthere can be no bitterer fate than for one belonging to your art to beincapacitated from performance of work by some physical obstacle. Poorgrand old Beethoven! Can anything be more pitiful to think of than hisdeafness? Yet how splendidly he bore up against it! And Chopin, too--sodelicate in health that he was too often morbid even in his music. Strength is needed to accomplish great things--the double strength ofbody and soul. "

"Are you, too, a musician?" I inquired. 

"No. I love music passionately, and I play a little on the organ in ourprivate chapel; but I follow a different art altogether. I am a mereimitator of noble form--I am a sculptress. "

"You?" I said in some wonder, looking at the very small, beautifullyformed white hand that lay passively on the edge of the couch besideme. "You make statues in marble like Michael Angelo?"

"Like Angelo?" murmured Zara; and she lowered her brilliant eyes with areverential gravity. "No one in these modern days can approach theimmortal splendour of that great master. He must have known heroes andtalked with gods to be able to hew out of the rocks such perfection ofshape and attitude as his 'David. ' Alas! my strength of brain and handis mere child's play compared to what HAS been done in sculpture, andwhat WILL yet be done; still, I love the work for its own sake, and Iam always trying to render a resemblance of--"

Here she broke off abruptly, and a deep blush suffused her cheeks. Then, looking up suddenly, she took my hand impulsively, and pressed it. 

"Be my friend, " she said, with a caressing inflection in her richvoice, "I have no friends of my own sex, and I wish to love you. Mybrother has always had so much distrust of the companionship of womenfor me. You know his theories; and he has always asserted that thesphere of thought in which I have lived all my life is so widely apartfrom those in which other women exist--that nothing but unhappiness forme could come out of associating us together. When he told me yesterdaythat you were coming to see me to-day, I knew he must have discoveredsomething in your nature that was not antipathetic to mine; otherwisehe would not have brought you to me. Do you think you can likeme?--perhaps LOVE me after a little while?"

It would have been a cold heart indeed that would not have responded tosuch a speech as this, uttered with the pleading prettiness of a lovingchild. Besides, I had warmed to her from the first moment I had touchedher hand; and I was overjoyed to think that she was willing to elect meas a friend. I therefore replied to her words by putting my armaffectionately round her waist and kissing her. My beautiful, tenderZara! How innocently happy she seemed to be thus embraced! and howgently her fragrant lips met mine in that sisterly caress! She leanedher dark head for a moment on my shoulder, and the mysterious jewel onher breast flashed into a weird red hue like the light of a stormysunset. 

"And now we have drawn up, signed, and sealed our compact offriendship, " she said gaily, "will you come and see my studio? There isnothing in it that deserves to last, I think; still, one has patiencewith a child when he builds his brick houses, and you must have equalpatience with me. Come!"

And she led the way through her lovely room, which I now noticed wasfull of delicate statuary, fine paintings, and exquisite embroidery, while flowers were everywhere in abundance. Lifting the hangings at thefarther end of the apartment, she passed, I following, into a loftystudio, filled with all the appurtenances of the sculptor's art. Hereand there were the usual spectral effects which are always suggested tothe mind by unfinished plaster models--an arm in one place, a head inanother; a torso, or a single hand, protruding ghost-like from a foldof dark drapery. At the very end of the room stood a large erectfigure, the outlines of which could but dimly be seen through its linencoverings; and to this work, whatever it was, Zara did not appeardesirous of attracting my attention. She led me to one particularcorner; and, throwing aside a small crimson velvet curtain, said:

"This is the last thing I have finished in marble. I call it'Approaching Evening. '"

I stood silently before the statue, lost in admiration. I could notconceive it possible that the fragile little hand of the woman whostood beside me could have executed such a perfect work. She haddepicted "Evening" as a beautiful nude female figure in the act ofstepping forward on tip-toe; the eyes were half closed, and the sweetmouth slightly parted in a dreamily serious smile. The right forefingerwas laid lightly on the lips, as though suggesting silence; and in theleft hand was loosely clasped a bunch of poppies. That was all. But thepoetry and force of the whole conception as carried out in the statuewas marvellous. 

"Do you like it?" asked Zara, half timidly. 

"Like it!" I exclaimed. "It is lovely--wonderful! It is worthy to rankwith the finest Italian masterpieces. "

"Oh, no!" remonstrated Zara; "no, indeed! When the great Italiansculptors lived and worked--ah! one may say with the Scriptures, 'Therewere giants in those days. ' Giants--veritable ones; and we modernistsare the pigmies. We can only see Art now through the eyes of others whocame before us. We cannot create anything new. We look at paintingthrough Raphael; sculpture through Angelo; poetry through Shakespeare;philosophy through Plato. It is all done for us; we are copyists. Theworld is getting old--how glorious to have lived when it was young! Butnowadays the very children are blase. "

"And you--are not you blase to talk like that, with your genius and allthe world before you?" I asked laughingly, slipping my arm throughhers. "Come, confess!"

Zara looked at me gravely. 

"I sincerely hope the world is NOT all before me, " she said; "I shouldbe very sorry if I thought so. To have the world all before you in thegeneral acceptation of that term means to live long, to barter whatevergenius you have for gold, to hear the fulsome and unmeaning flatteriesof the ignorant, who are as ready with condemnation as praise--to beenvied and maligned by those less lucky than you are. Heaven defend mefrom such a fate!"

She spoke with earnestness and solemnity; then, dropping the curtainbefore her statue, turned away. I was admiring the vine-wreathed headof a young Bacchante that stood on a pedestal near me, and was about toask Zara what subject she had chosen for the large veiled figure at thefarthest end of her studio, when we were interrupted by the entrance ofthe little Greek page whom I had seen on my first visit to the house. He saluted us both, and addressing himself to Zara, said:

"Monsieur le Comte desires me to tell you, madame, that Prince Ivanwill be present at dinner. "

Zara looked somewhat vexed; but the shade of annoyance flitted awayfrom her fair face like a passing shadow, as she replied quietly:

"Tell Monsieur le Comte, my brother, that I shall be happy to receivePrince Ivan. "

The page bowed deferentially and departed. Zara turned round, and I sawthe jewel on her breast flashing with a steely glitter like the bladeof a sharp sword. 

"I do not like Prince Ivan myself, " she said; "but he is a singularlybrave and resolute man, and Casimir has some reason for admitting himto our companionship. Though I greatly doubt if--" Here a flood ofmusic broke upon our ears like the sound of a distant orchestra. Zaralooked at me and smiled. "Dinner is ready!" she announced; "but youmust not imagine that we keep a band to play us to our table intriumph. It is simply a musical instrument worked by electricity thatimitates the orchestra; both Casimir and I prefer it to a gong!"

And slipping her arm affectionately through mine, she drew me from thestudio into the passage, and together we went down the staircase into alarge dining-room, rich with oil-paintings and carved oak, whereHeliobas awaited us. Close by him stood another gentleman, who wasintroduced to me as Prince Ivan Petroffsky. He was a fine-looking, handsome-featured young man, of about thirty, tall andbroad-shouldered, though beside the commanding stature of Heliobas, hisfigure did not show to so much advantage as it might have done beside aless imposing contrast. He bowed to me with easy and courteous grace;but his deeply reverential salute to Zara had something in it of thathumility which a slave might render to a queen. She bent her headslightly in answer, and still holding me by the hand, moved to her seatat the bottom of the table, while her brother took the head. My seatwas at the right hand of Heliobas, Prince Ivan's at the left, so thatwe directly faced each other. 

There were two men-servants in attendance, dressed in dark livery, whowaited upon us with noiseless alacrity. The dinner was exceedinglychoice; there was nothing coarse or vulgar in the dishes--no greatheavy joints swimming in thin gravy a la Anglaise; no tureens ofunpalatable sauce; no clumsy decanters filled with burning sherry ordrowsy port. The table itself was laid out in the most perfect taste, with the finest Venetian glass and old Dresden ware, in which temptingfruits gleamed amid clusters of glossy dark leaves. Flowers in tallvases bloomed wherever they could be placed effectively; and in thecentre of the board a small fountain played, tinkling as it rose andfell like a very faintly echoing fairy chime. The wines that wereserved to us were most delicious, though their flavour was quiteunknown to me--one in especial, of a pale pink colour, that sparkledslightly as it was poured into my glass, seemed to me a kind of nectarof the gods, so soft it was to the palate. The conversation, at firstsomewhat desultory, grew more concentrated as the time went on, thoughZara spoke little and seemed absorbed in her own thoughts more thanonce. The Prince, warmed with the wine and the general good cheer, became witty and amusing in his conversation; he was a man who hadevidently seen a good deal of the world, and who was accustomed to takeeverything in life a la bagatelle. He told us gay stories of his lifein St. Petersburg; of the pranks he had played in the FlorentineCarnival; of his journey to the American States, and his narrow escapefrom the matrimonial clutches of a Boston heiress. 

Heliobas listened to him with a sort of indulgent kindness, onlysmiling now and then at the preposterous puns the young man wouldinsist on making at every opportunity that presented itself. 

"You are a lucky fellow, Ivan, " he said at last. "You like the goodthings of life, and you have got them all without any trouble on yourown part. You are one of those men who have absolutely nothing to wishfor. "

Prince Ivan frowned and pulled his dark moustache with no verysatisfied air. 

"I am not so sure about that, " he returned. "No one is contented inthis world, I believe. There is always something left to desire, andthe last thing longed for always seems the most necessary to happiness. "

"The truest philosophy, " said Heliobas, "is not to long for anything inparticular, but to accept everything as it comes, and find out thereason of its coming. "

"What do you mean by 'the reason of its coming'?" questioned PrinceIvan. "Do you know, Casimir, I find you sometimes as puzzling asSocrates. "

"Socrates?--Socrates was as clear as a drop of morning dew, my dearfellow, " replied Heliobas. "There was nothing puzzling about him. Hisremarks were all true and trenchant--hitting smartly home to the heartlike daggers plunged down to the hilt. That was the worst of him--hewas too clear--too honest--too disdainful of opinions. Society does notlove such men. What do I mean, you ask, by accepting everything as itcomes, and trying to find out the reason of its coming? Why, I meanwhat I say. Each circumstance that happens to each one of us brings itsown special lesson and meaning--forms a link or part of a link in thechain of our existence. It seems nothing to you that you walk down aparticular street at a particular hour, and yet that slight action ofyours may lead to a result you wot not of. 'Accept the hint of each newexperience, ' says the American imitator of Plato--Emerson. If thisadvice is faithfully followed, we all have enough to occupy us busilyfrom the cradle to the grave. "

Prince Ivan looked at Zara, who sat quietly thoughtful, only liftingher bright eyes now and then to glance at her brother as he spoke. 

"I tell you, " he said, with sudden moroseness, "there are some hintsthat we cannot accept--some circumstances that we must not yield to. Why should a man, for instance, be subjected to an undeserved andbitter disappointment?"

"Because, " said Zara, joining in the conversation for the first time, "he has most likely desired what he is not fated to obtain. "

The Prince bit his lips, and gave a forced laugh. 

"I know, madame, you are against me in all our arguments, " he observed, with some bitterness in his tone. "As Casimir suggests, I am a badphilosopher. I do not pretend to more than the ordinary attributes ofan ordinary man; it is fortunate, if I may be permitted to say so, thatthe rest of the word's inhabitants are very like me, for if everyonereached to the sublime heights of science and knowledge that you andyour brother have attained---"

"The course of human destiny would run out, and Paradise would be anestablished fact, " laughed Heliobas. "Come, Ivan! You are a trueEpicurean. Have some more wine, and a truce to discussions for thepresent. " And, beckoning to one of the servants, he ordered thePrince's glass to be refilled. 

Dessert was now served, and luscious fruits in profusion, includingpeaches, bananas, plantains, green figs, melons, pine-apples, andmagnificent grapes, were offered for our choice. As I made a selectionfor my own plate, I became aware of something soft rubbing itselfgently against my dress; and looking down, I saw the noble head anddark intelligent eyes of my old acquaintance Leo, whom I had last metat Cannes. I gave an exclamation of pleasure, and the dog, encouraged, stood up and laid a caressing paw on my arm. 

"You know Leo, of course, " said Heliobas, turning to me. "He went tosee Raffaello while you were at Cannes. He is a wonderful animal--morevaluable to me than his weight in gold. "

Prince Ivan, whose transient moodiness had passed away like a bad devilexorcised by the power of good wine, joined heartily in the praisebestowed on this four-footed friend of the family. 

"It was really through Leo, " he said, "that you were induced to followout your experiments in human electricity, Casimir, was it not?"

"Yes, " replied Heliobas, calling the dog, who went to him immediatelyto be fondled. "I should never have been much encouraged in myresearches, had he not been at hand. I feared to experimentalize muchon my sister, she being young at the time--and women are always frailof construction--but Leo was willing and ready to be a victim toscience, if necessary. Instead of a martyr he is a living triumph--areyou not, old boy?" he continued, stroking the silky coat of the animal, who responded with a short low bark of satisfaction. 

My curiosity was much excited by these remarks, and I said eagerly:

"Will you tell me in what way Leo has been useful to you? I have agreat affection for dogs, and I never tire of hearing stories of theirwonderful intelligence. "

"I will certainly tell you, " replied Heliobas. "To some people thestory might appear improbable, but it is perfectly true and at the sametime simple of comprehension. When I was a very young man, younger thanPrince Ivan, I absorbed myself in the study of electricity--itswonderful powers, and its various capabilities. From the considerationof electricity in the different forms by which it is known to civilizedEurope, I began to look back through history, to what are ignorantlycalled 'the dark ages, ' but which might more justly be termed theenlightened youth of the world. I found that the force of electricitywas well understood by the ancients--better understood by them, infact, than it is by the scientists of our day. The 'MENE, MENE, TEKEL, UPHARSIN' that glittered in unearthly characters on the wall atBelshazzar's feast, was written by electricity; and the Chaldean kingsand priests understood a great many secrets of another form of electricforce which the world to-day scoffs at and almost ignores--I mean humanelectricity, which we all possess, but which we do not all cultivatewithin us. When once I realized the existence of the fact of humanelectric force, I applied the discovery to myself, and spared no painsto foster and educate whatever germ of this power lay within me. Isucceeded with more ease and celerity than I had imagined possible. Atthe time I pursued these studies, Leo here was quite a young dog, fullof the clumsy playfulness and untrained ignorance of a Newfoundlandpuppy. One day I was very busy reading an interesting Sanskrit scrollwhich treated of ancient medicines and remedies, and Leo was gambollingin his awkward way about the room, playing with an old slipper andworrying it with his teeth. The noise he made irritated and disturbedme, and I rose in my chair and called him by name, somewhat angrily. Hepaused in his game and looked up--his eyes met mine exactly. His headdrooped; he shivered uneasily, whined, and lay down motionless. Henever stirred once from the position he had taken, till I gave himpermission--and remember, he was untrained. This strange behaviour ledme to try other experiments with him, and all succeeded. I graduallyled him up to the point I desired--that is, _I_ FORCED HIM TO RECEIVEMY THOUGHT AND ACT UPON IT, as far as his canine capabilities could do, and he has never once failed. It is sufficient for me to strongly WILLhim to do a certain thing, and I can convey that command of mine to hisbrain without uttering a single word, and he will obey me. "

I suppose I showed surprise and incredulity in my face, for Heliobassmiled at me and continued:

"I will put him to the proof at any time you like. If you wish him tofetch anything that he is physically able to carry, and will write thename of whatever it is on a slip of paper, just for me to know what yourequire, I guarantee Leo's obedience. "

I looked at Zara, and she laughed. 

"It seems like magic to you, does it not?" she said; "but I assure youit is quite true. "

"I am bound to admit, " said Prince Ivan, "that I once doubted both Leoand his master, but I am quite converted. Here, mademoiselle, " hecontinued, handing me a leaf from his pocket-book and a pencil--"writedown something that you want; only don't send the dog to Italy on anerrand just now, as we want him back before we adjourn to thedrawing-room. "

I remembered that I had left an embroidered handkerchief on the couchin Zara's room, and I wrote this down on the paper, which I passed toHeliobas. He glanced at it and tore it up. Leo was indulging himselfwith a bone under the table, but came instantly to his master's call. Heliobas took the dog's head between his two hands, and gazed steadilyinto the grave brown eyes that regarded him with equal steadiness. Thisinterchange of looks lasted but a few seconds. Leo left the room, walking with an unruffled and dignified pace, while we awaited hisreturn--Heliobas and Zara with indifference, Prince Ivan withamusement, and I with interest and expectancy. Two or three minuteselapsed, and the dog returned with the same majestic demeanour, carrying between his teeth my handkerchief. He came straight to me andplaced it in my hand; shook himself, wagged his tail, and conveying aperfectly human expression of satisfaction into his face, went underthe table again to his bone. I was utterly amazed, but at the same timeconvinced. I had not seen the dog since my arrival in Paris, and it wasimpossible for him to have known where to find my handkerchief, or torecognize it as being mine, unless through the means Heliobas hadexplained. 

"Can you command human beings so?" I asked, with a slight tremor ofnervousness. 

"Not all, " returned Heliobas quietly. "In fact, I may say, very few. Those who are on my own circle of power I can, naturally, draw to orrepel from me; but those who are not, have to be treated by differentmeans. Sometimes cases occur in which persons, at first NOT on mycircle, are irresistibly attracted to it by a force not mine. Sometimes, in order to perform a cure, I establish a communicationbetween myself and a totally alien sphere of thought; and to do this isa long and laborious effort. But it can be done. "

"Then, if it can be done, " said Prince Ivan, "why do you not accomplishit for me?"

"Because you are being forcibly drawn towards me without any effort onmy part, " replied Heliobas, with one of his steady, keen looks. "Forwhat motive I cannot at present determine; but I shall know as soon asyou touch the extreme edge of my circle. You are a long way off it yet, but you are coming in spite of yourself, Ivan. "

The Prince fidgeted restlessly in his chair, and toyed with the fruiton his plate in a nervous manner. 

"If I did not know you to be an absolutely truthful and honourable man, Casimir, " he said, "I should think you were trying to deceive me. But Ihave seen what you can do, therefore I must believe you. Still Iconfess I do not follow you in your circle theory. "

"To begin with, " returned Heliobas, "the Universe is a circle. Everything is circular, from the motion of planets down to the humaneye, or the cup of a flower, or a drop of dew. MY 'circle theory, ' asyou call it, applied to human electric force, is very simple; but Ihave proved it to be mathematically correct. Every human being isprovided INTERNALLY and EXTERNALLY with a certain amount ofelectricity, which is as necessary to existence as the life-blood tothe heart or fresh air to the lungs. Internally it is the germ of asoul or spirit, and is placed there to be either cultivated orneglected as suits the WILL of man. It is indestructible; yet, ifneglected, it remains always a germ; and, at the death of the body itinhabits, goes elsewhere to seek another chance of development. If, onthe contrary, its growth is fostered by a persevering, resolute WILL, it becomes a spiritual creature, glorious and supremely powerful, forwhich a new, brilliant, and endless existence commences when its claychrysalis perishes. So much for the INTERNAL electrical force. TheEXTERNAL binds us all by fixed laws, with which our wills have nothingwhatever to do. (Each one of us walks the earth encompassed by aninvisible electric ring--wide or narrow according to our capabilities. Sometimes our rings meet and form one, as in the case of two absolutelysympathetic souls, who labour and love together with perfect faith ineach other. Sometimes they clash, and storm ensues, as when a strongantipathy between persons causes them almost to loathe each other'spresence. ) All these human electric rings are capable of attraction andrepulsion. If a man, during his courtship of a woman, experiences onceor twice a sudden instinctive feeling that there is something in hernature not altogether what he expected or desired, let him take warningand break off the attachment; for the electric circles do not combine, and nothing but unhappiness would come from forcing a union. I wouldsay the same thing to a woman. If my advice were followed, how manyunhappy marriages would be avoided! But you have tempted me to talk toomuch, Ivan. I see the ladies wish to adjourn. Shall we go to thesmoking-room for a little, and join them in the drawing-roomafterwards?"

We all rose. 

"Well, " said the Prince gaily, as he prepared to follow his host, "Irealize one thing which gives me pleasure, Casimir. If in truth I ambeing attracted towards your electric circle, I hope I shall reach itsoon, as I shall then, I suppose, be more en rapport with madame, yoursister. "

Zara's luminous eyes surveyed him with a sort of queenly pity andforbearance. 

"By the time YOU arrive at that goal, Prince, " she said calmly, "it ismost probable that _I_ shall have departed. "

And with one arm thrown round my waist, she saluted him gravely, andleft the room with me beside her. 

"Would you like to see the chapel on your way to the drawing-room?" sheasked, as we crossed the hall. 

I gladly accepted this proposition, and Zara took me down a flight ofmarble steps, which terminated in a handsomely-carved oaken door. Pushing this softly open, she made the sign of the cross and sank onher knees. I did the same, and then looked with reverential wonder atthe loveliness and serenity of the place. It was small, but lofty, andthe painted dome-shaped roof was supported by eight light marblecolumns, wreathed with minutely-carved garlands of vine-leaves. Thechapel was fitted up in accordance with the rites of the Catholicreligion, and before the High Altar and Tabernacle burned seven roseatelamps, which were suspended from the roof by slender gilt chains. Alarge crucifix, bearing a most sorrowful and pathetic figure of Christ, was hung on one of the side walls; and from a corner altar, shiningwith soft blue and silver, an exquisite statue of the Madonna and Childwas dimly seen from where we knelt. A few minutes passed, and Zararose. Looking towards the Tabernacle, her lips moved as thoughmurmuring a prayer, and then, taking me by the hand, she led me gentlyout. The heavy oaken door swung softly behind us as we ascended thechapel steps and re-entered the great hall. 

"You are a Catholic, are you not?" then said Zara to me. 

"Yes, " I answered; "but--"

"But you have doubts sometimes, you would say! Of course. One alwaysdoubts when one sees the dissensions, the hypocrisies, the falsepretences and wickedness of many professing Christians. But Christ andHis religion are living facts, in spite of the suicide of souls Hewould gladly save. You must ask Casimir some day about these things; hewill clear up all the knotty points for you. Here we are at thedrawing-room door. "

It was the same room into which I had first been shown. Zara seatedherself, and made me occupy a low chair beside her. 

"Tell me, " she said, "can you not come here and stay with me while youare under Casimir's treatment?"

I thought of Madame Denise and her Pension. 

"I wish I could, " I said; "but I fear my friends would want to knowwhere I am staying, and explanations would have to be given, which I donot feel disposed to enter upon. "

"Why, " went on Zara quietly, "you have only to say that you are beingattended by a Dr. Casimir who wishes to have you under his ownsupervision, and that you are therefore staying in his house under thechaperonage of his sister. "

I laughed at the idea of Zara playing the chaperon, and told her shewas far too young and beautiful to enact that character. 

"Do you know how old I am?" she asked, with a slight smile. 

I guessed seventeen, or at any rate not more than twenty. 

"I am thirty-eight, " said Zara. 

Thirty-eight! Impossible! I would not believe it. I could not. Ilaughed scornfully at such an absurdity, looking at her as she satthere a perfect model of youthful grace and loveliness, with herlustrous eyes and rose-tinted complexion. 

"You may doubt me if you choose, " she said, still smiling; "but I havetold you the truth. I am thirty-eight years of age according to theworld's counting. What I am, measured by another standard of time, matters not just now. You see I look young, and, what is more, I amyoung. I enjoy my youth. I hear that women of society at thirty-eightare often faded and blase--what a pity it is that they do notunderstand the first laws of self-preservation! But to resume what Iwas saying, you know now that I am quite old enough in the eyes of theworld to chaperon you or anybody. You had better arrange to stay here. Casimir asked me to settle the matter with, you. "

As she spoke, Heliobas and Prince Ivan entered. The latter lookedflushed and excited--Heliobas was calm and stately as usual. Headdressed himself to me at once. 

"I have ordered my carriage, mademoiselle, to take you back thisevening to the Avenue du Midi. If you will do as Zara tells you, andexplain to your friends the necessity there is for your being under thepersonal supervision of your doctor, you will find everything willarrange itself very naturally. And the sooner you come here thebetter--in fact, Zara will expect you here to-morrow early in theafternoon. I may rely upon you?"

He spoke with a certain air of command, evidently expecting noresistance on my part. Indeed, why should I resist? Already I lovedZara, and wished to be more in her company; and then, most probably, mycomplete restoration to health would be more successfully and quicklyaccomplished if I were actually in the house of the man who hadpromised to cure me. Therefore I replied:

"I will do as you wish, monsieur. Having placed myself in your hands, Imust obey. In this particular case, " I added, looking at Zara, "obedience is very agreeable to me. "

Heliobas smiled and seemed satisfied. He then took a small goblet froma side-table and left the room. Returning, however, almost immediatelywith the cup filled to the brim, he said, handing it to me:

"Drink this--it is your dose for to-night; and then you will go home, and straight to bed. "

I drank it off at once. It was delicious in flavour--like very fineChianti. 

"Have you no soothing draught for me?" said Prince Ivan, who had beenturning over a volume of photographs in a sullenly abstracted sort ofway. 

"No, " replied Heliobas, with a keen glance at him; "the draught fittedfor your present condition might soothe you too thoroughly. "

The Prince looked at Zara, but she was mute. She had taken a piece ofsilk embroidery from a workbasket near her, and was busily employedwith it. Heliobas advanced and laid his hand on the young man's arm. 

"Sing to us, Ivan, " he said, in a kind tone. "Sing us one of your wildRussian airs--Zara loves them, and this young lady would like to hearyour voice before she goes. "

The Prince hesitated, and then, with another glance at Zara's benthead, went to the piano. He had a brilliant touch, and accompaniedhimself with great taste and delicacy; but his voice was trulymagnificent--a baritone of deep and mellow quality, sonorous, and atthe same time tender. He sang a French rendering of a Slavoniclove-song, which, as nearly as I can translate it into English, ran asfollows:

 "As the billows fling shells on the shore, As the sun poureth light on the sea, As a lark on the wing scatters song to the spring, So rushes my love to thee. 

 "As the ivy clings close to the tower, As the dew lieth deep in a flower, As the shadow to light, as the day unto night, So clings my wild soul to thee!

 "As the moon glitters coldly alone, Above earth on her cloud-woven throne, As the rocky-bound cave repulses a wave, So thy anger repulseth me. 

 "As the bitter black frost of a night Slays the roses with pitiless might, As a sharp dagger-thrust hurls a king to the dust, So thy cruelty murdereth me. 

 "Yet in spite of thy queenly disdain, Thou art seared by my passion and pain; Thou shalt hear me repeat, till I die for it, sweet! 'I love thee! I dare to love THEE!'"

He ended abruptly and with passion, and rose from the piano directly. 

I was enthusiastic in my admiration of the song and of the splendidvoice which had given it utterance, and the Prince seemed almostgrateful for the praise accorded him both by Heliobas and myself. 

The page entered to announce that "the carriage was waiting formademoiselle, " and I prepared to leave. Zara kissed me affectionately, and whispering, "Come early to-morrow, " made a graceful salute toPrince Ivan, and left the room immediately. 

Heliobas then offered me his arm to take me to the carriage. PrinceIvan accompanied us. As the hall door opened in its usual noiselessmanner, I perceived an elegant light brougham drawn by a pair of blackhorses, who were giving the coachman a great deal of trouble by thefretting and spirited manner in which they pawed the stones andpranced. Before descending the steps I shook hands with Heliobas, andthanked him for the pleasant evening I had passed. 

"We will try to make all your time with us pass as pleasantly, " hereturned. "Good-night! What, Ivan, " as he perceived the Prince attiringhimself in his great-coat and hat, "are you also going?"

"Yes, I am off, " he replied, with a kind of forced gaiety; "I am badcompany for anyone to-night, and I won't inflict myself upon you, Casimir. Au revoir! I will put mademoiselle into the carriage if shewill permit me. "

We went down the steps together, Heliobas watching us from the opendoor. As the Prince assisted me into the brougham, he whispered:

"Are you one of them!"

I looked at him in bewilderment. 

"One of them!" I repeated. "What do you mean?"

"Never mind, " he muttered impatiently, as he made a pretence ofcovering me with the fur rugs inside the carriage: "if you are not now, you will be, or Zara would not have kissed you. If you ever have thechance ask her to think of me at my best. Good-night. "

I was touched and a little sorry for him. I held out my hand insilence. He pressed it hard, and calling to the coachman, "36, Avenuedu Midi, " stood on the pavement bareheaded, looking singularly pale andgrave in the starlight, as the carriage rolled swiftly away, and thedoor of the Hotel Mars closed. 

CHAPTER VIII. 

A SYMPHONY IN THE AIR. 

Within a very short time I became a temporary resident in the house ofHeliobas, and felt myself to be perfectly at home there. I hadexplained to Madame Denise the cause of my leaving her comfortablePension, and she had fully approved of my being under a physician'spersonal care in order to ensure rapid recovery; but when she heard thename of that physician, which I gave (in accordance with Zara'sinstructions) as Dr. Casimir, she held up her fat hands in dismay. 

"Oh, mademoiselle, " she exclaimed, "have you not dread of that terribleman? Is it not he that is reported to be a cruel mesmerist whosacrifices everybody--yes, even his own sister, to his medicalexperiments? Ah, mon Dieu! it makes me to shudder!"

And she shuddered directly, as a proof of her veracity. I was amused. Isaw in her an example of the common multitude, who are more ready tobelieve in vulgar spirit-rapping and mesmerism than to accept anestablished scientific fact. 

"Do you know Dr. Casimir and his sister?" I asked her. 

"I have seen them, mademoiselle; perhaps once--twice--three times! Itis true madame is lovely as an angel; but they say"--here she loweredher voice mysteriously--"that she is wedded to a devil! It is true, mademoiselle--all people say so. And Suzanne Michot--a very respectableyoung person, mademoiselle, from Auteuil--she was employed at one timeas under-housemaid at Dr. Casimir's, and she had things to say--ah, tomake the blood like ice!"

"What did she say?" I asked with a half smile. 

"Well, " and Madame Denise came close to me and looked confidential, "Suzanne--I assure you a most respectable girl--said that one eveningshe was crossing the passage near Madame Casimir's boudoir, and she sawa light like fire coming through the curtains of the portiere. And shestopped to listen, and she heard a strange music like the sound ofharps. She ventured to go nearer--Suzanne is a brave girl, mademoiselle, and most virtuous--and to raise the curtain the smallestportion just to permit the glance of an eye. And--imagine what she saw. "

"Well!" I exclaimed impatiently. "WHAT did she see?"

"Ah, mademoiselle, you will not believe me--but Suzanne Michot hasrespectable parents, and would not tell a lie--well, Suzanne saw hermistress, Madame Casimir, standing up near her couch with both armsextended as to embrace the air. Round her there was--believe it or not, mademoiselle, as you please--a ring of light like a red fire, whichseemed to grow larger and redder always. All suddenly, madame grew paleand more pale, and then fell on her couch as one dead, and all the redfire went out. Suzanne had fear, and she tried to call out--but now seewhat happened to Suzanne! She was PUSHED from the spot, mademoiselle, pushed along as though by some strong personage; yet she saw no onetill she reached her own door, and in her room she fainted from alarm. The very next morning Dr. Casimir dismissed her, with her full wagesand a handsome present besides; but he LOOKED at her, Suzanne said, ina manner to make her tremble from head to foot. Now, mademoiselle, judge yourself whether it is fit for one who is suffering with nervesto go to so strange a house!"

I laughed. Her story had not the least effect upon me. In fact, I madeup my mind that the so respectable and virtuous Suzanne Michot had beendrinking some of her master's wine. I said:

"Your words only make me more desirous to go, Madame Denise. Besides, Dr. Casimir has already done me a great deal of good. You must haveheard things of him that are not altogether bad, surely?"

The little woman reflected seriously, and then said, as with somereluctance:

"It is certainly true, mademoiselle, that in the quarter of the poor heis much beloved. Jean Duclos--he is a chiffonnier--had his one childdying of typhoid fever, and he was watching it struggling for breath;it was at the point to die. Monsieur le Comte Casimir, or Dr. Casimir--for he is called both--came in all suddenly, and in half anhour had saved the little one's life. I do not deny that he may havesome good in him, and that he understands medicine; but there issomething wrong--" And Madame Denise shook her head forlornly a greatnumber of times. 

None of her statements deterred me from my intention, and I wasdelighted when I found myself fairly installed at the Hotel Mars. Zaragave me a beautiful room next to her own; she had taken pains to fit itup herself with everything that was in accordance with my particulartastes, such as a choice selection of books; music, including many ofthe fascinating scores of Schubert and Wagner; writing materials; and apretty, full-toned pianette. My window looked out on a small courtyard, which had been covered over with glass and transformed into aconservatory. I could enter it by going down a few steps, and couldhave the satisfaction of gathering roses and lilies of the valley, while outside the east wind blew and the cold snowflakes fell overParis. I wrote to Mrs. Everard from my retreat, and I also informed theChalloners where they could find me if they wanted me. These dutiesdone, I gave myself up to enjoyment. Zara and I became inseparables; weworked together, read together, and together every morning gave thosefinishing-touches to the ordering and arrangement of the householdwhich are essentially feminine, and which not the wisest philosopher inall the world has been, or ever will be, able to accomplishsuccessfully. We grew to love each other dearly, with that ungrudging, sympathizing, confiding friendship that is very rarely found betweentwo women. In the meantime my cure went on rapidly. Every night onretiring to rest Heliobas prepared a medicinal dose for me, of thequalities of which I was absolutely ignorant, but which I tooktrustingly from his hand. Every morning a different little phial ofliquid was placed in the bathroom for me to empty into the water of mydaily bath, and every hour I grew better, brighter, and stronger. Thenatural vivacity of my temperament returned to me; I suffered no pain, no anxiety, no depression, and I slept as soundly as a child, unvisitedby a single dream. The mere fact of my being alive became a joy to me;I felt grateful for everything--for my eyesight, my speech, my hearing, my touch--because all my senses seemed to be sharpened and invigoratedand braced up to the keenest delight. This happy condition of my systemdid not come suddenly--sudden cures mean sudden relapses; it was agradual, steady, ever-increasing, reliable recovery. 

I found the society of Heliobas and his sister very fascinating. Theirconversation was both thoughtful and brilliant, their manners wereevenly gracious and kindly, and the life they led was a model ofperfect household peace and harmony. There was never a fuss aboutanything: the domestic arrangements seemed to work on smoothly oiledwheels; the different repasts were served with quiet elegance andregularity; the servants were few, but admirably trained; and we alllived in an absolutely calm atmosphere, unruffled by so much as abreath of worry. Nothing of a mysterious nature went on, as far as Icould see. 

Heliobas passed the greater part of the day in his study--a small, plainly furnished room, the facsimile of the one I had beheld him inwhen I had dreamed those three dreams at Cannes. Whether he receivedmany or few patients there I could not tell; but that some applied tohim for advice I knew, as I often met strangers crossing the hall ontheir way in and out. He always joined us at dinner, and was invariablycheerful, generally entertaining us with lively converse and sparklingnarrative, though now and then the thoughtful tendency of his mindpredominated, and gave a serious tone to his remarks. 

Zara was uniformly bright and even in her temperament. She was my veryideal of the Greek Psyche, radiant yet calm, pensive yet mirthful. Shewas full of beautiful ideas and poetical fancies, and so thoroughlyuntouched by the world and its aims, that she seemed to me just topoise on the earth like a delicate butterfly on a flower; and I shouldhave been scarcely surprised had I seen her unfold a pair of shiningwings and fly away to some other region. Yet in spite of thisspirituelle nature, she was physically stronger and more robust thanany other woman I ever saw. She was gay and active; she was nevertired, never ailing, and she enjoyed life with a keen zest such as isunknown to the tired multitudes who toil on hopelessly and wearily, wondering, as they work, why they were born. Zara evidently had nodoubts or speculations of this kind; she drank in every minute of herexistence as if it were a drop of honey-dew prepared specially for herpalate. I never could believe that her age was what she had declared itto be. She seemed to look younger every day; sometimes her eyes hadthat limpid, lustrous innocence that is seen in the eyes of a verylittle child; and, again, they would change and glow with the earnestand lofty thought of one who had lived through years of study, research, and discovery. For the first few days of my visit she did notwork in her studio at all, but appeared to prefer reading or talkingwith me. One afternoon, however, when we had returned from a shortdrive in the Bois de Boulogne, she said half hesitatingly:

"I think I will go to work again to-morrow morning, if you will notthink me unsociable. "

"Why, Zara dearest!" I replied. "Of course I shall not think youunsociable. I would not interfere with any of your pursuits for theworld. "

She looked at me with a sort of wistful affection, and continued:

"But you must know I like to work quite alone, and though it may lookchurlish, still not even you must come into the studio. I never can doanything before a witness; Casimir himself knows that, and keeps awayfrom me. "

"Well!" I said, "I should be an ungrateful wretch if I could not obligeyou in so small a request. I promise not to disturb you, Zara; and donot think for one moment that I shall be dull. I have books, a piano, flowers--what more do I want? And if I like I can go out; then I haveletters to write, and all sorts of things to occupy me. I shall bequite happy, and I shall not come near you till you call me. "

Zara kissed me. 

"You are a dear girl, " she said; "I hate to appear inhospitable, but Iknow you are a real friend--that you will love me as much away from youas near you, and that you have none of that vulgar curiosity which somewomen give way to, when what they desire to see is hidden from them. You are not inquisitive, are you?"

I laughed. 

"The affairs of other people have never appeared so interesting to methat I have cared to bother myself about them, " I replied. "Blue-Beard's Chamber would never have been unlocked had I been thatworthy man's wife. "

"What a fine moral lesson the old fairy-tale teaches!" said Zara. "Ialways think those wives of Blue-Beard deserved their fate for notbeing able to obey him in his one request. But in regard to yourpursuits, dear, while I am at work in my studio, you can use the grandpiano in the drawing-room when you please, as well as the little one inyour own room; and you can improvise on the chapel organ as much as youlike. "

I was delighted at this idea, and thanked her heartily. She smiledthoughtfully. 

"What happiness it must be for you to love music so thoroughly!" shesaid. "It fills you with enthusiasm. I used to dislike to read thebiographies of musical people; they all seemed to find so much faultwith one another, and grudged each other every little bit of praisewrung from the world's cold, death-doomed lips. It is to mepathetically absurd to see gifted persons all struggling along, andrudely elbowing each other out of the way to win--what? A few stiltedcommonplace words of approbation or fault-finding in the newspapers ofthe day, and a little clapping and shouting from a gathering ofordinary minded persons, who only clap and shout because it is possiblythe fashion to do so. It is really ludicrous. If the music the musicianoffers to the public be really great, it will live by itself and defypraise or blame. Because Schubert died of want and sorrow, that doesnot interfere with the life of his creations. Because Wagner is votedimpossible and absurd by many who think themselves good judges ofmusical art, that does not offer any obstacle to the steady spread ofhis fame, which is destined to become as universal as that ofShakespeare. Poor Joachim, the violinist, has got a picture in hisprivate house, in which Wagner is painted as suffering the tortures ofhell; can anything be more absurd, when we consider how soon thelearned fiddler, who has occupied his life in playing other people'scompositions, will be a handful of forgotten dust, while multitudes yetto come will shout their admiration of 'Tristran' and 'Parsifal. ' Yes, as I said, I never cared for musical people much, till I met a friendof my brother's--a man whose inner life was an exquisite harmony. "

"I know!" I interrupted her. "He wrote the 'Letters of a DeadMusician. '"

"Yes, " said Zara. "I suppose you saw the book at Raffaello's studio. Good Raffaello Cellini! his is another absolutely ungrudging andunselfish spirit. But this musician that I speak of was like a child inhumility and reverence. Casimir told me he had never sounded so perfecta nature. At one time he, too, was a little anxious for recognition andpraise, and Casimir saw that he was likely to wreck himself on thatfatal rock of poor ambition. So he took him in hand, and taught him themeaning of his work, and why it was especially given him to do; andthat man's life became 'one grand sweet song. ' But there are tears inyour eyes, dear! What have I said to grieve you?"

And she caressed me tenderly. The tears were indeed thick in my eyes, and a minute or two elapsed before I could master them. At last Iraised my head and endeavoured to smile. 

"They are not sad tears, Zara, " I said; "I think they come from astrong desire I have to be what you are, what your brother is, whatthat dead musician must have been. Why, I have longed, and do long forfame, for wealth, for the world's applause, for all the things whichyou seem to think so petty and mean. How can I help it? Is not famepower? Is not money a double power, strong to assist one's self andthose one loves? Is not the world's favour a necessary means to gainthese things?"

Zara's eyes gleamed with a soft and pitying gentleness. 

"Do you understand what you mean by power?" she asked. "World's fame?World's wealth? Will these things make you enjoy life? You will perhapssay yes. I tell you no. Laurels of earth's growing fade; gold ofearth's getting is good for a time, but it palls quickly. Suppose a manrich enough to purchase all the treasures of the world--what then? Hemust die and leave them. Suppose a poet or musician so famous that allnations know and love him: he too must die, and go where nations existno longer. And you actually would grasp ashes and drink wormwood, little friend? Music, the heaven-born spirit of pure sound, does notteach you so!"

I was silent. The gleam of the strange jewel Zara always wore flashedin my eyes like lightning, and anon changed to the similitude of acrimson star. I watched it, dreamily fascinated by its unearthlyglitter. 

"Still, " I said, "you yourself admit that such fame as that ofShakespeare or Wagner becomes a universal monument to their memories. That is something, surely?"

"Not to them, " replied Zara; "they have partly forgotten that they everwere imprisoned in such a narrow gaol as this world. Perhaps they donot care to remember it, though memory is part of immortality. "

"Ah!" I sighed restlessly; "your thoughts go beyond me, Zara. I cannotfollow your theories. "

Zara smiled. 

"We will not talk about them any more, " she said; "you must tellCasimir--he will teach you far better than I can. "

"What shall I tell him?" I asked; "and what will he teach me?"

"You will tell him what a high opinion you have of the world and itsjudgments, " said Zara, "and he will teach you that the world is no morethan a grain of dust, measured by the standard of your own soul. Thisis no mere platitude--no repetition of the poetical statement 'THEMIND'S THE STANDARD OF THE MAN;' it is a fact, and can be proved ascompletely as that two and two make four. Ask Casimir to set you free. "

"To set me free?" I asked, surprised. 

"Yes!" and Zara looked at me brightly. "He will know if you are strongenough to travel!" And, nodding her head gaily to me, she left the roomto prepare for the dinner-hour which was fast approaching. 

I pondered over her words a good deal without arriving at anysatisfactory conclusion as to the meaning of them. I did not resume theconversation with her, nor did I speak to Heliobas as yet, and the dayswent on smoothly and pleasantly till I had been nearly a week inresidence at the Hotel Mars. I now felt perfectly well and strong, though Heliobas continued to give me his remedies regularly night andmorning. I began an energetic routine of musical practice: thebeautiful piano in the drawing-room answered readily to my touch, andmany a delightful hour slipped by as I tried various new difficultieson the key-board, or worked out different combinations of harmony. Ispent a great deal of my time at the organ in the little chapel, thebellows of which were worked by electricity, in a manner that gave notthe least trouble, and was perfectly simple of management. 

The organ itself was peculiarly sweet in tone, the "vox humana" stopespecially producing an entrancingly rich and tender sound. Thesilence, warmth, and beauty of the chapel, with the winter sunlightstreaming through its stained windows, and the unbroken solitude Ienjoyed there, all gave fresh impetus to the fancies of my brain, and asuccession of solemn and tender melodies wove themselves under myfingers as a broidered carpet is woven on the loom. 

One particular afternoon, I was sitting at the instrument as usual, andmy thoughts began to busy themselves with the sublime tragedy ofCalvary. I mused, playing softly all the while, on the wonderful, blameless, glorious life that had ended in the shame and cruelty of theCross, when suddenly, like a cloud swooping darkly across the heaven ofmy thoughts, came the suggestive question: "Is it all true? Was Christindeed Divine--or is it all a myth, a fable--an imposture?"Unconsciously I struck a discordant chord on the organ--a faint tremorshook me, and I ceased playing. An uncomfortable sensation came overme, as of some invisible presence being near me and approaching softly, slowly, yet always more closely; and I hurriedly rose from my seat, shut the organ, and prepared to leave the chapel, overcome by a strangeincomprehensible terror. I was glad when I found myself safely outsidethe door, and I rushed into the hall as though I were being pursued;yet the oddest part of my feeling was, that whoever thus pursued me, did so out of love, not enmity, and that I was almost wrong in runningaway. I leaned for a moment against one of the columns in the hall, trying to calm the excited beating of my heart, when a deep voicestartled me:

"So! you are agitated and alarmed! Unbelief is easily scared!"

I looked up and met the calm eyes of Heliobas. He appeared to betaller, statelier, more like a Chaldean prophet or king than I had everseen him before. There was something in his steady scrutiny of my facethat put me to a sort of shame, and when he spoke again it was in atone of mild reproof. 

"You have been led astray, my child, by the conflicting and vainopinions of mankind. You, like many others in the world, delight toquestion, to speculate, to weigh this, to measure that, with little orno profit to yourself or your fellow-creatures. And you have comefreshly from a land where, in the great Senate-house, a poor perishablelump of clay calling itself a man, dares to stand up boldly and denythe existence of God, while his compeers, less bold than he, pretend aholy displeasure, yet secretly support him--all blind worms denying theexistence of the sun; a land where so-called Religion is split intohundreds of cold and narrow sects, gatherings assembled for thepractice of hypocrisy, lip-service and lies--where Self, not theCreator, is the prime object of worship; a land, mighty once among themightiest, but which now, like an over-ripe pear, hangs loosely on itstree, awaiting but a touch to make it fall! A land--let me not nameit;--where the wealthy, high-fed ministers of the nation slowly argueaway the lives of better men than themselves, with vain words of colderand more cruel force than the whirling spears of untaught savages! Whathave you, an ardent disciple of music, to do in such a land wherefavouritism and backstair influence win the day over even the merits ofa Schubert? Supposing you were a second Beethoven, what could you do inthat land without faith or hope? that land which is like adisappointed, churlish, and aged man with tottering feet and purblindeyes, who has long ago exhausted all enjoyment and sees nothing newunder the sun. The world is wide--faith is yet extant--and theteachings of Christ are true. 'Believe and live; doubt and die!' Thatsaying is true also. "

I had listened to these words in silence; but now I spoke eagerly andimpatiently, remembering what Zara had told me. 

"Then, " I said, "if I have been misguided by modern opinions--if I haveunconsciously absorbed the doctrines of modern fashionableatheism--lead me right. Teach me what you know. I am willing to learn. Let me find out the reason of my life. SET ME FREE!"

Heliobas regarded me with earnest solemnity. 

"Set you free!" he murmured, in a low tone. "Do you know what you ask?"

"No, " I answered, with reckless fervour. "I do not know what I ask; butI feel that you have the power to show me the unseen things of anotherworld. Did you not yourself tell me in our first interview that you hadlet Raffaello Cellini 'go on a voyage of discovery, and that he cameback perfectly satisfied?' Besides, he told me his history. From you hehas gained all that gives him peace and comfort. You possess electricsecrets undreamt of by the world. Prove your powers upon me; I am notafraid. "

Heliobas smiled. "Not afraid! And you ran out of the chapel just now asif you were pursued by a fiend! You must know that the only WOMAN Iever tried my greatest experiment upon is my sister Zara. She wastrained and prepared for it in the most careful manner; and itsucceeded. Now"--and Heliobas looked half-sad, half-triumphant--"shehas passed beyond my power; she is dominated by one greater than I. Butshe cannot use her force for others; she can only employ it to defendherself. Therefore, I am willing to try you if you indeed desire it--tosee if the same thing will occur to you as to Zara; and I firmlybelieve it will. "

A slight tremor came over me; but I said with an attempt atindifference:

"You mean that I shall be dominated also by some great force orinfluence?"

"I think so, " replied Heliobas musingly. "Your nature is more prone tolove than to command. Try and follow me in the explanation I am goingto give you. Do you know some lines by Shelley that run--

 "'Nothing in the world is single, All things by a law divine In one another's being mingle-- Why not I with thine?'"

"Yes, " I said. "I know the lines well. I used to think them verysentimental and pretty. "

"They contain, " said Heliobas, "the germ of a great truth, as many ofthe most fanciful verses of the poets do. As the 'image of a voice'mentioned in the Book of Job hinted at the telephone, and asShakespeare's 'girdle round the earth' foretold the electric telegraph, so the utterances of the inspired starvelings of the world, known aspoets, suggest many more wonders of the universe than may be at firstapparent. Poets must always be prophets, or their calling is in vain. Put this standard of judgment to the verse-writers of the day, andwhere would they be? The English Laureate is no seer: he is a mererelater of pretty stories. Algernon Charles Swinburne has more fire inhim, and more wealth of expression, but he does not prophesy; he has aclever way of combining Biblical similes with Provengal passion--etvoila tout! The prophets are always poor--the sackcloth and ashes ofthe world are their portion; and their bodies moulder a hundred yearsor more in the grave before the world finds out what they meant bytheir ravings. But apropos of these lines of Shelley. He speaks of theduality of existence. 'Nothing in the world is single. ' He might havegone further, and said nothing in the universe is single. Cold andheat, storm and sunshine, good and evil, joy and sorrow--all go inpairs. This double life extends to all the spheres and above thespheres. Do you understand?"

"I understand what you say, " I said slowly; "but I cannot see yourmeaning as applied to myself or yourself. "

"I will teach you in a few words, " went on Heliobas. "You believe inthe soul?"

"Yes. "

"Very well. Now realize that there is no soul on this earth that iscomplete, ALONE. Like everything else, it is dual. It is like half aflame that seeks the other half, and is dissatisfied and restless tillit attains its object. Lovers, misled by the blinding light of Love, think they have reached completeness when they are united to the personbeloved. Now, in very, very rare cases, perhaps one among a thousand, this desirable result is effected; but the majority of people arecontent with the union of bodies only, and care little or nothing aboutthe sympathy or attachment between souls. There are people, however, who do care, and who never find their Twin-Flame or companion Spirit atall on earth, and never will find it. And why? Because it is notimprisoned in clay; it is elsewhere. "

"Well?" I asked eagerly. 

"Well, you seem to ask me by your eyes what this all means. I willapply it at once to myself. By my researches into human electricalscience, I discovered that MY companion, MY other half of existence, though not on earth, was near me, and could be commanded by me; and, onbeing commanded, obeyed. With Zara it was different. She could notCOMMAND--she OBEYED; she was the weaker of the two. With you, I thinkit will be the same thing. Men sacrifice everything to ambition; womento love. It is natural. I see there is much of what I have said thatappears to have mystified you; it is no good puzzling your brain anymore about it. No doubt you think I am talking very wildly aboutTwin-Flames and Spiritual Affinities that live for us in anothersphere. You do not believe, perhaps, in the existence of beings in thevery air that surrounds us, invisible to ordinary human eyes, yetactually akin to us, with a closer relationship than any tie of bloodknown on earth?"

I hesitated. Heliobas saw my hesitation, and his eyes darkened with asombre wrath. 

"Are you one of those also who must see in order to believe?" he said, half angrily. "Where do you suppose your music comes from? Where do yousuppose any music comes from that is not mere imitation? The greatestcomposers of the world have been mere receptacles of sound; and theemptier they were of self-love and vanity, the greater quantity ofheaven-born melody they held. The German Wagner--did he not himself saythat he walked up and down in the avenues, 'trying to catch theharmonies as they floated in the air'? Come with me--come back to theplace you left, and I will see if you, like Wagner, are able to catch amelody flying. "

He grasped my unresisting arm, and led me, half-frightened, half-curious, into the little chapel, where he bade me seat myself atthe organ. 

"Do not play a single note, " he said, "till you are compelled. "

And standing beside me, Heliobas laid his hands on my head, thenpressed them on my ears, and finally touched my hands, that restedpassively on the keyboard. 

He then raised his eyes, and uttered the name I had often thought ofbut never mentioned--the name he had called upon in my dream. 

"Azul!" he said, in a low, penetrating voice, "open the gateways of theAir that we may hear the sound of Song!"

A soft rushing noise of wind answered his adjuration. This was followedby a burst of music, transcendently lovely, but unlike any music I hadever heard. There were sounds of delicate and entrancing tendernesssuch as no instrument made by human hands could produce; there wassinging of clear and tender tone, and of infinite purity such as nohuman voices could be capable of. I listened, perplexed, alarmed, yetentranced. Suddenly I distinguished a melody running through thewonderful air-symphonies--a melody like a flower, fresh and perfect. Instinctively I touched the organ and began to play it; I found I couldproduce it note for note. I forgot all fear in my delight, and I playedon and on in a sort of deepening rapture. Gradually I became aware thatthe strange sounds about me were dying slowly away; fainter and fainterthey grew--softer--farther--and finally ceased. But the melody--thatone distinct passage of notes I had followed out--remained with me, andI played it again and again with feverish eagerness lest it shouldescape me. I had forgotten the presence of Heliobas. But a touch on myshoulder roused me. I looked up and met his eyes fixed upon, me with asteady and earnest regard. A shiver ran through, me, and I feltbewildered. 

"Have I lost it?" I asked. 

"Lost what?" he demanded. 

"The tune I heard--the harmonies. "

"No, " he replied; "at least I think not. But if you have, no matter. You will hear others. Why do you look so distressed?"

"It is lovely, " I said wistfully, "all that music; but it is not MINE;"and tears of regret filled my eyes. "Oh, if it were only mine--my veryown composition!"

Heliobas smiled kindly. 

"It is as much yours as any thing belongs to anyone. Yours? why, whatcan you really call your own? Every talent you have, every breath youdraw, every drop of blood flowing in your veins, is lent to you only;you must pay it all back. And as far as the arts go, it is a bad signof poet, painter, or musician, who is arrogant enough to call his workhis own. It never was his, and never will be. It is planned by a higherintelligence than his, only he happens to be the hired labourer chosento carry out the conception; a sort of mechanic in whom boastfulnesslooks absurd; as absurd as if one of the stonemasons working at thecornice of a cathedral were to vaunt himself as the designer of thewhole edifice. And when a work, any work, is completed, it passes outof the labourer's hands; it belongs to the age and the people for whomit was accomplished, and, if deserving, goes on belonging to futureages and future peoples. So far, and only so far, music is your own. But are you convinced? or do you think you have been dreaming all thatyou heard just now?"

I rose from the organ, closed it gently, and, moved by a suddenimpulse, held out both my hands to Heliobas. He took them and held themin a friendly clasp, watching me intently as I spoke. 

"I believe in YOU, " I said firmly; "and I know thoroughly well that Iwas not dreaming; I certainly heard strange music, and entrancingvoices. But in acknowledging your powers over something unseen, I mustexplain to you the incredulity I at first felt, which I believe annoyedyou. I was made sceptical on one occasion, by attending a so-calledspiritual seance, where they tried to convince me of the truth oftable-turning--"

Heliobas laughed softly, still holding my hands. 

"Your reason will at once tell you that disembodied spirits neverbecome so undignified as to upset furniture or rap on tables. Neitherdo they write letters in pen and ink and put them under doors. Spiritual beings are purely spiritual; they cannot touch anythinghuman, much less deal in such vulgar display as the throwing about ofchairs, and the opening of locked sideboards. You were very rightlysceptical in these matters. But in what I have endeavoured to prove toyou, you have no doubts, have you?"

"None in the world, " I said. "I only ask you to go on teaching me thewonders that seem so familiar to you. Let me know all I may; and soon!"I spoke with trembling eagerness. 

"You have been only eight days in the house, my child, " said Heliobas, loosening my hands, and signing me to come out of the chapel with him;"and I do not consider you sufficiently strong as yet for theexperiment you wish me to try upon you. Even now you are agitated. Waitone week more, and then you shall be--"

"What?" I asked impatiently. 

"Lifted up, " he replied. "Lifted up above this little speck calledearth. But now, no more of this. Go to Zara; keep your mind wellemployed; study, read, and pray--pray much and often in few and simplewords, and with as utterly unselfish a heart as you can prepare. Thinkthat you are going to some high festival, and attire your soul inreadiness. I do not say to you 'Have faith;' I would not compel yourbelief in anything against your own will. You wish to be convinced of afuture existence; you seek proofs; you shall have them. In the meantimeavoid all conversation with me on the subject. You can confide yourdesires to Zara if you like; her experience may be of use to you. Youhad best join her now. Au revoir!" and with a kind parting gesture, heleft me. 

I watched his stately figure disappear in the shadow of the passageleading to his own study, and then I hastened to Zara's room. Themusical episode in the chapel had certainly startled me, and the wordsof Heliobas were full of mysterious meaning; but, strange to say, I wasin no way rendered anxious or alarmed by the prospect I had before meof being "lifted up, " as my physician had expressed it. I thought ofRaffaello Cellini and his history, and I determined within myself thatno cowardly hesitation or fear should prevent me from making theattempt to see what he professed to have seen. I found Zara reading. She looked up as I entered, and greeted me with her usual bright smile. 

"You have had a long practice, " she began; "I thought you were nevercoming. "

I sat down beside her, and related at once all that had happened to methat afternoon. Zara listened with deep and almost breathless interest. 

"You are quite resolved, " she said, when I had concluded, "to letCasimir exert his force upon you?"

"I am quite resolved, " I answered. 

"And you have no fear?"

"None that I am just now conscious of. "

Zara's eyes became darker and deeper in the gravity of her intensemeditation. At last she said:

"I can help you to keep your courage firmly to the point, by lettingyou know at once what Casimir will do to you. Beyond that I cannot go. You understand the nature of an electric shock?"

"Yes, " I replied. 

"Well, there are different kinds of electric shocks--some that areremedial, some that are fatal. There are cures performed by a carefuluse of the electric battery--again, people are struck dead bylightning, which is the fatal result of electric force. But all this isEXTERNAL electricity; now what Casimir will use on you will be INTERNALelectricity. "

I begged her to explain more clearly. She went on:

"You have internally a certain amount of electricity, which has beenincreased recently by the remedies prescribed for you by Casimir. But, however much you have, Casimir has more, and he will exert his forceover your force, the greater over the lesser. You will experience anINTERNAL electric shock, which, like a sword, will separate in twainbody and spirit. The spiritual part of you will be lifted up abovematerial forces; the bodily part will remain inert and useless, tillthe life, which is actually YOU, returns to put its machinery in motiononce more. "

"But shall I return at all?" I asked half doubtfully. 

"You must return, because God has fixed the limits of your life onearth, and no human power can alter His decree. Casimir's will can setyou free for a time, but only for a time. You are bound to return, beit never so reluctantly. Eternal liberty is given by Death alone, andDeath cannot be forced to come. "

"How about suicide?" I asked. 

"The suicide, " replied Zara, "has no soul. He kills his body, and bythe very act proves that whatever germ of an immortal existence he mayhave had once, has escaped from its unworthy habitation, and gone, likea flying spark, to find a chance of growth elsewhere. Surely your ownreason proves this to you? The very animals have more soul than a manwho commits suicide. The beasts of prey slay each other for hunger orin self-defence, but they do not slay themselves. That is a brutalityleft to man alone, with its companion degradation, drunkenness. "

I mused awhile in silence. 

"In all the wickedness and cruelty of mankind, " I said, "it is almost awonder that there is any spiritual existence left on earth at all. Whyshould God trouble Himself to care for such few souls as thoroughlybelieve in and love Him?--they can be but a mere handful. "

"Such a mere handful are worth more than the world to him, " said Zaragravely. "Oh, my dear, do not say such things as why should God troubleHimself? Why do you trouble yourself for the safety and happiness ofanyone you love?"

Her eyes grew soft and tender, and the jewel she wore glimmered likemoonlight on the sea. I felt a little abashed, and, to change thesubject, I said:

"Tell me, Zara, what is that stone you always wear? Is it a talisman?"

"It belonged to a king, " said Zara, --"at least, it was found in aking's coffin. It has been in our family for generations. Casimir saysit is an electric stone--there are such still to be found in remoteparts of the sea. Do you like it?"

"It is very brilliant and lovely, " I said. 

"When I die, " went on Zara slowly, "I will leave it to you. "

"I hope I shall have to wait a long time before I get it, then, " Iexclaimed, embracing her affectionately. "Indeed, I will pray never toreceive it. "

"You will pray wrongly, " said Zara, smiling. "But tell me, do you quiteunderstand from my explanation what Casimir will do to you?"

"I think I do. "

"And you are not afraid?"

"Not at all. Shall I suffer any pain?"

"No actual pang. You will feel giddy for a moment, and your body willbecome unconscious. That is all. "

I meditated for a few moments, and then looking up, saw Zara's eyeswatching me with a wistful inquiring tenderness. I answered her lookwith a smile, and said, half gaily:

"L'audace, l'audace, et toujours l'audace! That must be my motto, Zara. I have a chance now of proving how far a woman's bravery can go, and Iassure you I am proud of the opportunity. Your brother uttered somevery cutting remarks on the general inaptitude of the female sex when Ifirst made his acquaintance; so, for the honour of the thing, I mustfollow the path I have begun to tread. A plunge into the unseen worldis surely a bold step for a woman, and I am determined to take itcourageously. "

"That is well, " said Zara. "I do not think it possible for you ever toregret it. It is growing late--shall we prepare for dinner?"

I assented, and we separated to our different rooms. Before commencingto dress I opened the pianette that stood near my window, and triedvery softly to play the melody I had heard in the chapel. To my joy itcame at once to my fingers, and I was able to remember every note. Idid not attempt to write it down--somehow I felt sure it would notescape me now. A sense of profound gratitude filled my heart, and, remembering the counsel given by Heliobas, I knelt reverently down andthanked God for the joy and grace of music. As I did so, a faint breathof sound, like a distant whisper of harps played in unison, floatedpast my ears, --then appeared to sweep round in ever-widening circles, till it gradually died away. But it was sweet and entrancing enough forme to understand how glorious and full of rapture must have been thestar-symphony played on that winter's night long ago, when the angelschanted together, "Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace andgood-will to Man!"

CHAPTER IX. 

AN ELECTRIC SHOCK. 

Prince Ivan Petroffsky was a constant visitor at the Hotel Mars, and Ibegan to take a certain interest in him, not unmingled with pity, forit was evident that he was hopelessly in love with my beautiful friendZara. She received him always with courtesy and kindness; but herbehaviour to him was marked by a somewhat cold dignity, which, like abarrier of ice, repelled the warmth of his admiration and attention. Once or twice, remembering what he had said to me, I endeavoured tospeak to her concerning him and his devotion; but she so instantly anddecisively turned the conversation that I saw I should displease her ifI persisted in it. Heliobas appeared to be really attached to thePrince, at which I secretly wondered; the worldly and frivolous youngnobleman was of so entirely different a temperament to that of thethoughtful and studious Chaldean philosopher. Yet there was evidentlysome mysterious attraction between them--the Prince appeared to beprofoundly interested in electric theories and experiments, andHeliobas never wearied of expounding them to so attentive a listener. The wonderful capabilities of the dog Leo also were brought intoconstant requisition for Prince Ivan's benefit, and without doubt theywere most remarkable. This animal, commanded--or, I should say, brain-electrified--by Heliobas, would fetch anything that was named tohim through his master's force, providing it was light enough for himto carry; and he would go into the conservatory and pluck off with histeeth any rare or common flower within his reach that was described tohim by the same means. Spoken to or commanded by others, he was simplya good-natured intelligent Newfoundland; but under the authority ofHeliobas, he became more than human in ready wit and quick obedience, and would have brought in a golden harvest to any great circus ormenagerie. 

He was a never-failing source of wonder and interest to me, and evenmore so to the Prince, who made him the subject of many an abstruse anddifficult discussion with his friend Casimir. I noticed that Zaraseemed to regret the frequent companionship of Ivan Petroffsky and herbrother, and a shade of sorrow or vexation often crossed her fair facewhen she saw them together absorbed in conversation or argument. 

One evening a strange circumstance occurred which startled and deeplyimpressed me. Prince Ivan had dined with us; he was in extraordinarilyhigh spirits--his gaiety was almost boisterous, and his face was deeplyflushed. Zara glanced at him half indignantly more than once when hislaughter became unusually uproarious, and I saw that Heliobas watchedhim closely and half-inquiringly, as if he thought there was somethingamiss. 

The Prince, however, heedless of his host's observant eye, tossed offglass after glass of wine, and talked incessantly. After dinner, whenwe all assembled in the drawing-room, he seated himself at the pianowithout being asked, and sang several songs. Whether he were influencedby drink or strong excitement, his voice at any rate showed no sign ofweakness or deterioration. Never had I heard him sing so magnificently. He seemed possessed not by an angel but by a demon of song. It wasimpossible not to listen to him, and while listening, equallyimpossible not to admire him. Even Zara, who was generally indifferentto his music, became, on this particular night, fascinated into a sortof dreamy attention. He perceived this, and suddenly addressed himselfto her in softened tones which bore no trace of their previous loudness. 

"Madame, you honour me to-night by listening to my poor efforts. It isseldom I am thus rewarded!"

Zara flushed deeply, and then grew very pale. 

"Indeed, Prince, " she answered quietly, "you mistake me. I alwayslisten with pleasure to your singing--to-night, perhaps, my mood ismore fitted to music than is usual with me, and thus I may appear toyou to be more attentive. But your voice always delights me as it mustdelight everybody who hears it. "

"While you are in a musical mood then, " returned Prince Ivan, "let mesing you an English song--one of the loveliest ever penned. I have setit to music myself, as such words are not of the kind to suit ordinarycomposers or publishers; they are too much in earnest, too passionate, too full of real human love and sorrow. The songs that suit moderndrawing-rooms and concert-halls, as a rule, are those that are full ofsham sentiment--a real, strong, throbbing HEART pulsing through a songis too terribly exciting for lackadaisical society. Listen!" And, playing a dreamy, murmuring prelude like the sound of a brook flowingthrough a hollow cavern, he sang Swinburne's "Leave-Taking, " surely oneof the saddest and most beautiful poems in the English language. 

He subdued his voice to suit the melancholy hopelessness of the lines, and rendered it with so much intensity of pathetic expression that itwas difficult to keep tears from filling the eyes. When he came to thelast verse, the anguish of a wasted life seemed to declare itself inthe complete despair of his low vibrating tones:

 "Let us go hence and rest; she will not love. She shall not hear us if we sing hereof, Nor see love's ways, how sore they are and steep. Come hence, let be, lie still; it is enough. Love is a barren sea, bitter and deep; And though she saw all heaven in flower above, She would not love!"

The deep melancholy of the music and the quivering pathos of the deepbaritone voice were so affecting that it was almost a relief when thesong ceased. I had been looking out of the window at the fantasticpatterns of the moonlight on the garden walk, but now I turned to seein Zara's face her appreciation of what we had just heard. To mysurprise she had left the room. Heliobas reclined in his easy-chair, glancing up and down the columns of the Figaro; and the Prince stillsat at the piano, moving his fingers idly up and down the keys withoutplaying. The little page entered with a letter on a silver salver. Itwas for his master. Heliobas read it quickly, and rose, saying:

"I must leave you to entertain yourselves for ten minutes while Ianswer this letter. Will you excuse me?" and with the ever-courteoussalute to us which was part of his manner, he left the room. 

I still remained at the window. Prince Ivan still dumbly played thepiano. There were a few minutes of absolute silence. Then the Princehastily got up, shut the piano, and approached me. 

"Do you know where Zara is?" he demanded in a low, fierce tone. 

I looked at him in surprise and a little alarm--he spoke with so muchsuppressed anger, and his eyes glittered so strangely. 

"No, " I answered frankly. "I never saw her leave the room. "

"I did, " he said. "She slipped out like a ghost, or a witch, or anangel, while I was singing the last verse of Swinburne's song. Do youknow Swinburne, mademoiselle?"

"No, " I replied, wondering at his manner more and more. "I only knowhim, as you do, to be a poet. "

"Poet, madman, or lover--all three should be one and the same thing, "muttered the Prince, clenching and unclenching that strong right handof his on which sparkled a diamond like a star. "I have often wonderedif poets feel what they write--whether Swinburne, for instance, everfelt the weight of a dead cold thing within him HERE, " slightlytouching the region of his heart, "and realized that he had to dragthat corpse of unburied love with him everywhere--even to the grave, and beyond--O God!--beyond the grave!" I touched him gently on the arm. I was full of pity for him--his despair was so bitter and keen. 

"Prince Ivan, " I said, "you are excited and overwrought. Zara meant noslight to you in leaving the room before your song was finished. I amquite sure of that. She is kindness itself--her nature is all sweetnessand gentleness. She would not willingly offend you--"

"Offend me!" he exclaimed; "she could not offend me if she tried. Shecould tread upon me, stab me, slay me, but never offend me. I see youare sorry for me--and I thank you. I kiss your hand for your gentlepity, mademoiselle. "

And he did so, with a knightly grace that became him well. I thoughthis momentary anger was passing, but I was mistaken. Suddenly he raisedhis arm with a fierce gesture, and exclaimed:

"By heaven! I will wait no longer. I am a fool to hesitate. I may waita century before I draw out of Casimir the secret that would enable meto measure swords with my rival. Listen!" and he grasped my shoulderroughly. "Stay here, you! If Casimir returns, tell him I have gone fora walk of half an hour. Play to him--keep him occupied--be my friend inthis one thing--I trust you. Let him not seek for Zara, or for me. Ishall not be long absent. "

"Stay!" I whispered hurriedly, "What are you going to do? Surely youknow the power of Heliobas. He is supreme here. He could find outanything he chose. He could---"

Prince Ivan looked at me fixedly. 

"Will you swear to me that you actually do not know?"

"Know what?" I asked, perplexed. 

He laughed bitterly, sarcastically. 

"Did you ever hear that line of poetry which speaks of 'A woman wailingfor her demon-lover'? That is what Zara does. Of one thing I amcertain--she does not wail or wait long; he comes quickly. "

"What do you mean?" I exclaimed, utterly mystified. "Who comes quickly?I am sure you do not know what you are talking about. "

"I DO know, " he replied firmly; "and I am going to prove my knowledge. Remember what I have asked you. " And without another word or look, hethrew open the velvet curtains of the portiere, and disappeared behindthem. 

Left to myself, I felt very nervous and excited. All sorts of oddfancies came into my head, and would not go away, but danced about likeWill-o'-the-wisps on a morass. What did Prince Ivan mean? Was he mad?or had he drunk too much wine? What strange illusion had he in his mindabout Zara and a demon? Suddenly a thought flashed upon me that made metremble from head to foot. I remembered what Heliobas had said abouttwin flames and dual affinities; and I also reflected that he haddeclared Zara to be dominated by a more powerful force than his own. But then, I had accepted it as a matter of course that, whatever theforce was, it must be for good, not evil, over a being so pure, solovely and so intelligent as Zara. 

I knew and felt that there were good and evil forces. Now, suppose Zarawere commanded by some strange evil thing, unguessed at, undreamt of inthe wildest night-mare? I shuddered as with icy cold. It could not be. I resolutely refused to admit such a fearful conjecture. Why, I thoughtto myself, with a faint smile, I was no better in my imaginings thanthe so virtuous and ever-respectable Suzanne Michot of whom MadameDenise had spoken. Still the hateful thought came back again and again, and refused to go away. 

I went to my old place at the window and looked out. The moonlight fellin cold slanting rays; but an army of dark clouds were hurrying up fromthe horizon, looking in their weird shapes like the mounted Walkyres inWagner's "Niebelungen Ring, " galloping to Walhalla with the bodies ofdead warriors slung before them. A low moaning wind had arisen, and wasbeginning to sob round the house like the Banshee. Hark! what was that?I started violently. Surely that was a faint shriek? I listenedintently. Nothing but the wind rustling among some creaking branches. 

 "A woman wailing for her demon-lover. "

How that line haunted me! And with, it there slowly grew up in my minda black looming horror; an idea, vague and ghastly, that froze my bloodand turned me faint and giddy. Suppose, when I had consented to beexperimented upon by Heliobas--when my soul in the electric trance waslifted up to the unseen world--suppose an evil force, terrible andall-compelling, were to dominate ME and hold me forever and ever! Igasped for breath! Oh, so much the more need of prayer!

"Pray much and often, with as unselfish a heart as you can prepare. "

Thus Heliobas had said; and I thought to myself, if all those who wereon the brink of great sin or crime could only be brought to feelbeforehand what I felt when facing the spectral dread of unknown evil, then surely sins would be fewer and crimes never committed. And Imurmured softly, "Lead us not into temptation, but deliver us fromevil. "

The mere utterance of these words seemed to calm and encourage me; andas I gazed up at the sky again, with its gathering clouds, one star, like a bright consoling eye, looked at me, glittering cheerfully amidthe surrounding darkness. 

More than ten minutes had elapsed since Prince Ivan had left the room, and there was no sound of returning footsteps. And where was Zara? Idetermined to seek her. I was free to go anywhere in the house, onlyavoiding her studio during her hours of work; and she never worked atnight. I would go to her and confide all my strange thoughts andterrors to her friendly sympathy. I hurried through the hall and up thestaircase quickly, and should have gone straight into Zara's boudoirhad I not heard a sound of voices which caused me to stop precipitatelyoutside the door. Zara was speaking. Her low, musical accents fell likea silver chime on the air. 

"I have told you, " she said, "again and again that it is impossible. You waste your life in the pursuit of a phantom; for a phantom I mustbe to you always--a mere dream, not a woman such as your love wouldsatisfy. You are a strong man, in sound health and spirits; you carefor the world and the things that are in it. I do not. You would makeme happy, you say. No doubt you would do your best--your wealth andinfluence, your good looks, your hospitable and friendly nature wouldmake most women happy. But what should _I_ care for your familydiamonds? for your surroundings? for your ambitions? The society of theworld fills me with disgust and prejudice. Marriage, as the worldconsiders it, shocks and outrages my self-respect; the idea of a bodilyunion without that of souls is to me repulsive and loathsome. Why, therefore, waste your time in seeking a love which does not exist, which never will exist for you?"

I heard the deep, passionate tones of Prince Ivan in answer:

"One light kindles another, Zara! The sunlight melts the snow! I cannotbelieve but that a long and faithful love may--nay, MUST--have itsreward at last. Even according to your brother's theories, the emotionof love is capable of powerful attraction. Cannot I hope that mypassion--so strong, so great, so true, Zara!--will, with patience, drawyou, star of my life, closer and closer, till I at last call you mine?"

I heard the faint rustle of Zara's silk robe, as though she were movingfarther from him. 

"You speak ignorantly, Prince. Your studies with Casimir appear to havebrought you little knowledge. Attraction! How can you attract what isnot in your sphere? As well ask for the Moons of Jupiter or the Ring ofSaturn! The laws of attraction and repulsion, Prince Ivan, are fixed bya higher authority than yours, and you are as powerless to alter orabate them by one iota, as a child is powerless to repel the advancingwaves of the sea. "

Prince Ivan spoke again, and his voice quivered, with suppressed anger. 

"You may talk as you will, beautiful Zara; but you shall never persuademe against my reason. I am no dreamer; no speculator in aerialnothings; no clever charlatan like Casimir, who, because he is able tomagnetize a dog, pretends to the same authority over human beings, anddares to risk the health, perhaps the very sanity, of his own sister, and that of the unfortunate young musician whom he has inveigled inhere, all for the sake of proving his dangerous, almost diabolical, experiments. Oh, yes; I see you are indignant, but I speak truth. I ama plain man;--and if I am deficient in electric germs, as Casimir wouldsay, I have plenty of common sense. I wish to rescue you, Zara. You arebecoming a prey to morbid fancies; your naturally healthy mind is fullof extravagant notions concerning angels and demons and what not; andyour entire belief in, and enthusiasm for, your brother is a splendidadvertisement for him. Let me tear the veil of credulity from youreyes. Let me teach you how good a thing it is to live and love andlaugh like other people, and leave electricity to the telegraph-wiresand the lamp-posts. "

Again I heard the silken rustle of Zara's dress, and, impelled by astrong curiosity and excitement, I raised a corner of the curtainhanging over the door, and was able to see the room distinctly. ThePrince stood, or rather lounged, near the window, and opposite to himwas Zara; she had evidently retreated from him as far as possible, andheld herself proudly erect, her eyes flashing with unusual brilliancycontrasted with the pallor of her face. 

"Your insults to my brother, Prince, " she said calmly, "I suffer topass by me, knowing well to what a depth of wilful blind ignorance youare fallen. I pity you--and--I despise you! You are indeed a plain man, as you say--nothing more and nothing less. You can take advantage ofthe hospitality of this house, and pretend friendship to the host, while you slander him behind his back, and insult his sister in theprivacy of her own apartment. Very manlike, truly; and perfectly inaccordance with a reasonable being who likes to live and love and laughaccording to the rule of society--a puppet whose wires society pulls, and he dances or dies as society pleases. I told you a gulf existedbetween us--you have widened it, for which I thank you! As I do notimpose any of my wishes upon you, and therefore cannot request you toleave the room, you must excuse me if _I_ retire elsewhere. "

And she approached the entrance of her studio, which was opposite towhere I stood; but the Prince reached it before her, and placed hisback against it. His face was deathly pale, and his dark eyes blazedwith wrath and love intermingled. 

"No, Zara!" he exclaimed in a sort of loud whisper. "If you think toescape me so, you are in error. I came to you reckless and resolved!You shall be mine if I die for it!" And he strove to seize her in hisarms. But she escaped him and stood at bay, her lips quivering, herbosom heaving, and her hands clenched. 

"I warn you!" she exclaimed. "By the intense loathing I have for you;by the force which makes my spirit rise in arms against you, I warnyou! Do not dare to touch me! If you care for your own life, leave mewhile there is time!"

Never had she looked so supremely, terribly beautiful. I gazed at herfrom my corner of the doorway, awed, yet fascinated. The jewel on herbreast glowed with an angry red lustre, and shot forth dazzling opalinerays, as though it were a sort of living, breathing star. Prince Ivanpaused--entranced no doubt, as I was, by her unearthly loveliness. Hisface flushed--he gave a low laugh of admiration. Then he made two swiftstrides forward and caught her fiercely in his embrace. His triumph wasbrief. Scarcely had his strong arm clasped her waist, when it fell numband powerless--scarcely had his eager lips stooped towards hers, whenhe reeled and sank heavily on the ground, senseless! The spell that hadheld me a silent spectator of the scene was broken. Terrified, I rushedinto the room, crying out:

"Zara, Zara! What have you done?"

Zara turned her eyes gently upon me--they were soft and humid as thoughrecently filled with tears. All the burning scorn and indignation hadgone out of her face--she looked pityingly at the prostrate form of heradmirer. 

"He is not dead, " she said quietly. "I will call Casimir. "

I knelt beside the Prince and raised his hand. It was cold and heavy. His lips were blue, and his closed eyelids looked as though, in thewords of Homer, "Death's purple finger" had shut them fast forever. Nobreath--no pulsation of the heart. I looked fearfully at Zara. Shesmiled half sadly. 

"He is not dead, " she repeated. 

"Are you sure?" I murmured. "What was it, Zara, that made him fall? Iwas at the door--I saw and heard everything. "

"I know you did, " said Zara gently; "and I am glad of it. I wished youto see and hear all. "

"Is it a fit, do you think?" I asked again, looking sorrowfully at thesad face of the unfortunate Ivan, which seemed to me to have alreadygraven upon it the stern sweet smile of those who have passed allpassion and pain forever. "Oh, Zara! do you believe he will recover?"And tears choked my voice--tears of compassion and regret. 

Zara came and kissed me. 

"Yes, he will recover--do not fret, little one. I have rung my privatebell for Casimir; he will be here directly. The Prince has had ashock--not a fatal one, as you will see. You look doubtful--are youafraid of me, dear?"

I gazed at her earnestly. Those clear childlike eyes--that franksmile--that gentle and dignified mien--could they accompany evilthoughts? No! I was sure Zara was good as she was lovely. 

"I am not afraid of you, Zara, " I said gravely; "I love you too wellfor that. But I am sorry for the poor Prince; and I cannotunderstand---"

"You cannot understand why those who trespass against fixed laws shouldsuffer?" observed Zara calmly. "Well, you will understand some day. Youwill know that in one way or another it is the reason of all suffering, both physical and mental, in the world. "

I said no more, but waited in silence till the sound of a firmapproaching footstep announced Heliobas. He entered the roomquickly--glanced at the motionless form of the Prince, then at me, andlastly at his sister. 

"Has he been long thus?" he asked in a low tone. 

"Not five minutes, " replied Zara. 

A pitying and affectionate gentleness of expression filled his keeneyes. 

"Reckless boy!" he murmured softly, as he stooped and laid one handlightly on Ivan's breast. "He is the very type of misguided humanbravery. You were too hard upon him, Zara!"

Zara sighed. 

"He spoke against you, " she said. "Of course he did, " returned herbrother with a smile. "And it was perfectly natural he should do so. Have I not read his thoughts? Do not I know that he considers me afalse pretender and CHARLATAN? And have I not humoured him? In this heis no worse than any one of his race. Every great scientific discoveryis voted impossible at the first start. Ivan is not to blame because heis like the rest of the world. He will be wiser in time. "

"He attempted to force his desires, " began Zara again, and her cheeksflushed indignantly. 

"I know, " answered her brother. "I foresaw how it would be, but waspowerless to prevent it. He was wrong--but bold! Such boldness compelsa certain admiration. This fellow would scale the stars, if he knew howto do it, by physical force alone. "

I grew impatient, and interrupted these remarks. 

"Perhaps he is scaling the stars now, " I said; "or at any rate he willdo so if death can show him the way. "

Heliobas gave me a friendly glance. 

"You also are growing courageous when you can speak to your physicianthus abruptly, " he observed quietly. "Death has nothing to do with ourfriend as yet, I assure you. Zara, you had better leave us. Your facemust not be the first for Ivan's eyes to rest upon. You, " nodding tome, "can stay. "

Zara pressed my hand gently as she passed me, and entered her studio, the door of which closed behind her, and I heard the key turn in thelock. I became absorbed in the proceedings of Heliobas. Stoopingtowards the recumbent form of Prince Ivan, he took the heavy lifelesshands firmly in his own, and then fixed his eyes fully and steadily onthe pale, set features with an expression of the most forcible calm andabsolutely undeniable authority. Not one word did he utter, butremained motionless as a statue in the attitude thus assumed--he seemedscarcely to breathe--not a muscle of his countenance moved. Perhapstwenty or thirty seconds might have elapsed, when a warm tinge ofcolour came back to the apparently dead face--the brows twitched--thelips quivered and parted in a heavy sigh. The braised appearance of theeyelids gave place to the natural tint--they opened, disclosing theeyes, which stared directly into those of the compelling Master whothus forced their obedience. A strong shudder shook the young man'sframe; his before nerveless hands grasped those of Heliobas with forceand fervour, and still meeting that steady look which seemed to piercethe very centre of his system, Prince Ivan, like Lazarus of old, aroseand stood erect. As he did so, Heliobas withdrew his eyes, dropped hishands and smiled. 

"You are better, Ivan?" he inquired kindly. 

The Prince looked about him, bewildered. He passed one hand across hisforehead without replying. Then he turned slightly and perceived me inthe window-embrasure, whither I had retreated in fear and wonderment atthe marvellous power of Heliobas, thus openly and plainly displayed. 

"Tell me, " he said, addressing me, "have I been dreaming?"

I could not answer him. I was glad to see him recover, yet I was alittle afraid. Heliobas pushed a chair gently towards him. 

"Sit down, Ivan, " he said quietly. 

The Prince obeyed, and covered his face with his hand as though in deepand earnest meditation. I looked on in silence and wonderment. Heliobasspoke not another word, and together we watched the pensive figure inthe chair, so absorbed in serious thought. Some minutes passed. Thegentle tick of the clock in the outer hall grew almost obtrusive, soloud did it seem in the utter stillness that surrounded us. I longed tospeak--to ask questions--to proffer sympathy--but dared not move orutter a syllable. Suddenly the Prince rose; his manner was calm anddignified, yet touched with a strange humility. He advanced toHeliobas, holding out his hand. 

"Forgive me, Casimir!" he said simply. 

Heliobas at once grasped the proffered palm within his own, and lookedat the young man with an almost fatherly tenderness. 

"Say no more, Ivan, " he returned, his rich voice sounding more thanusually mellow in its warmth and heartiness. "We must all learn beforewe can know, and some of our lessons are sharp and difficult. Whateveryou have thought of me, remember I have not, and do not, blame you. Tobe offended with unbelievers is to show that you are not yourself quitesure of the faith to which you would compel them. "

"I would ask you one thing, " went on the Prince, speaking in a lowtone. "Do not let me stay to fall into fresh errors. Teach me--guideme, Casimir; I will be the most docile of your pupils. As for Zara--"

He paused, as if overcome. 

"Come with me, " said Heliobas, taking his arm; "a glass of good winewill invigorate you. It is better to see Zara no more for a time. Letme take charge of you. You, mademoiselle, " turning to me, "will be kindenough to tell Zara that the Prince has recovered, and sends her afriendly good-night. Will that message suffice?" he inquired of Ivan, with a smile. 

The Prince looked at me with a sort of wistful gravity as I cameforward to bid him farewell. 

"You will embrace her, " he said slowly, "without fear. Her eyes willrain sunshine upon you; they will not dart lightning. Her lips willmeet yours, and their touch will be warm--not cold, as sharp steel. Yes; bid her good-night for me; tell her that an erring man kisses thehem of her robe, and prays her for pardon. Tell her that I understand;tell her I have seen her lover!"

"With these words, uttered distinctly and emphatically, he turned awaywith. Heliobas, who still held him by the arm in a friendly, half-protecting manner. The tears stood in my eyes. I called softly:

"Good-night, Prince Ivan!"

He looked back with a faint smile. 

"Good-night, mademoiselle!"

Heliobas also looked back and gave me an encouraging nod, which meantseveral things at once, such as "Do not be anxious, " "He will be allright soon, " and "Always believe the best. " I watched their two figuresdisappear through the doorway, and then, feeling almost cheerful again, I knocked at the door of Zara's studio. She opened it at once, and cameout. I delivered the Prince's message, word for word, as he had givenit. She listened, and sighed deeply. 

"Are you sorry for him, Zara?" I asked. 

"Yes, " she replied; "I am sorry for him as far as I can be sorry foranything. I am never actually VERY sorry for any circumstances, howevergrievous they may appear. "

I was surprised at this avowal. 

"Why, Zara, " I said, "I thought you were so keenly sympathetic?"

"So I am sympathetic, but only with suffering ignorance--a dying birdthat knows not why it should die--a withering rose that sees not thereason for its withering; but for human beings who wilfully blindthemselves to the teachings of their own instincts, and are alwaysdoing what they know they ought not to do in spite of warning, I cannotsay I am sorry. And for those who DO study the causes and ultimateresults of their existence, there is no occasion to be sorry, as theyare perfectly happy, knowing everything that happens to them to be fortheir advancement and justification. "

"Tell me, " I asked with a little hesitation, "what did Prince Ivan meanby saying he had seen your lover, Zara?"

"He meant what he said, I suppose, " replied Zara, with sudden coldness. "Excuse me, I thought you said you were not inquisitive. "

I could not bear this change of tone in her, and I clasped my armstight about her and smiled in her face. 

"You shall not get angry with ME, Zara. I am not going to be treatedlike poor Ivan. I have found out what you are, and how dangerous it isto admire you; but I do admire and love you. And I defy you to knock medown as unceremoniously as you did the Prince--you beautiful living bitof Lightning!"

Zara moved restlessly in my embrace, but I held her fast. At the lastepithet I bestowed on her, she grew very pale; but her eyes resembledthe jewels on her breast in their sheeny glitter. 

"What have you found out?" she murmured. "What do you know?"

"I cannot say I KNOW, " I went on boldly, still keeping my arms roundher; "but I have made a guess which I think comes near the truth. Yourbrother has had the care of you ever since you were a little child, andI believe he has, by some method known only to himself, charged youwith electricity. Yes, Zara, " for she had started and tried to loosenmy hold of her; "and it is that which keeps you young and fresh as agirl of sixteen, at an age when other women lose their bloom and growwrinkles. It is that which gives you the power to impart a repellingshock to people you dislike, as in the case of Prince Ivan. It is thatwhich gives you such an attractive force for those with whom you have alittle sympathy--such as myself, for instance; and you cannot, Zara, with all your electric strength, unclasp my arms from your waist, because you have not the sentiment of repulsion towards me which wouldenable you to do it. Shall I go on guessing?"

Zara made a sign of assent--the expression of her face had softened, and a dimpling smile played round the corners of her mouth. 

"Your lover, " I went on steadily and slowly, "is a native of some othersphere--perhaps a creation of your own fancy--perhaps (for I will notbe sceptical any more) a beautiful and all-powerful angelic spirit. Iwill not discuss this with you. I believe that when Prince Ivan fellsenseless, he saw, or fancied he saw, that nameless being. And now, " Iadded, loosening my clasp of her, "have I guessed well?"

Zara looked meditative. 

"I do not know, " she said, "why you should imagine--"

"Stop!" I exclaimed; "there is no imagination in the case. I havereasoned it out. Here is a book I found in the library on electricorgans as they are discovered to exist in certain fish. Listen: 'Theyare nervous apparatuses which in the arrangement of their parts may becompared to a Voltaic pile. They develop electricity and giveelectrical discharges. '"

"Well!" said Zara. 

"You say 'Well!' as if you did not know!" I exclaimed half-angrily, half-laughingly. "These fish have helped me to understand a great deal, I assure you. Your brother must have discovered the seed orcommencement of electrical organs like those described, in the humanbody; and he has cultivated them in you and in himself, and has broughtthem to a high state of perfection. He has cultivated them in RaffaelloCellini, and he is beginning to cultivate them in me, and I hope mostsincerely he will succeed. I think his theory is a magnificent one!"

Zara gazed seriously at me, and her large eyes seemed to grow darkerwith the intensity of her thought. 

"Supposing you had reasoned out the matter correctly, " she said--"and Iwill not deny that you have done a great deal towards the comprehensionof it--have you no fear? do you not include some drawbacks in evenCasimir's learning such a secret, and being able to cultivate andeducate such a deadly force as that of electricity in the human being?"

"If it is deadly, it is also life-giving, " I answered. "Remedies arealso poisons. You laid the Prince senseless at your feet, but yourbrother raised him up again. Both these things were done byelectricity. I can understand it all now; I see no obscurity, nomystery. And oh, what a superb discovery it is!"

Zara smiled. 

"You enthusiast!" she said, "it is nothing new. It was well known tothe ancient Chaldeans. It was known to Moses and his followers; it waspractised in perfection by Christ and His disciples. To moderncivilization it may seem a discovery, because the tendency Of allso-called progress is to forget the past. The scent of the human savageis extraordinarily keen--keener than that of any animal--he can followa track unerringly by some odour he is able to detect in the air. Again, he can lay back his ears to the wind and catch a faint, far-offsound with, certainty and precision, and tell you what it is. Civilizedbeings have forgotten all this; they can neither smell nor hear withactual keenness. Just in the same way, they have forgotten the use ofthe electrical organs they all indubitably possess in large or minutedegree. As the muscles of the arm are developed by practice, so can thewonderful internal electrical apparatus of man be strengthened andenlarged by use. The world in its youth knew this; the world in its ageforgets, as an old man forgets or smiles disdainfully at the pastsports of his childhood. But do not let us talk any more to-night. Ifyou think your ideas of me are correct---"

"I am sure they are!" I cried triumphantly. 

Zara held out her arms to me. 

"And you are sure you love me?" she asked. 

I nestled into her embrace and kissed her. 

"Sure!" I answered. "Zara, I love and honour you more than any woman Iever met or ever shall meet. And you love me--I know you do!"

"How can I help it?" she said. "Are you not one of us? Good-night, dearest! Sleep well!"

"Good-night!" I answered. "And remember Prince Ivan asked for yourpardon. "

"I remember!" she replied softly. "I have already pardoned him, and Iwill pray for him. " And a sort of radiant pity and forbearanceillumined her lovely features, as we parted for the night. So might anangel look on some repentant sinner pleading for Heaven's forgiveness. 

I lay awake for some time that night, endeavouring to follow out thetrack of thought I had entered upon in my conversation with Zara. Withsuch electricity as Heliobas practised, once admitting that humanelectric force existed, a fact which no reasoning person could deny, all things were possible. Even a knowledge of superhuman events mightbe attained, if there were anything in the universe that WASsuperhuman; and surely it would be arrogant and ignorant to refuse tocontemplate such a probability. At one time people mocked at the wildidea that a message could flash in a moment of time from one side ofthe Atlantic to the other by means of a cable laid under the sea; nowthat it is an established fact, the world has grown accustomed to it, and has ceased to regard it as a wonder. Granting human electricity toexist, why should not a communication be established, like a sort ofspiritual Atlantic cable, between man and the beings of other spheresand other solar systems? The more I reflected on the subject the morelost I became in daring speculations concerning that other world, towhich I was soon to be lifted. Then in a sort of half-doze, I fancied Isaw an interminable glittering chain of vivid light composed of circlesthat were all looped one in another, which seemed to sweep round therealms of space and to tie up the sun, moon, and stars like flowers ina ribbon of fire. After much anxious and humble research, I foundmyself to be one of the smallest links in this great chain. I do notknow whether I was grateful or afraid at this discovery, for sleep putan end to my drowsy fancies, and dropped a dark curtain over my wakingdreams. 

CHAPTER X. 

MY STRANGE DEPARTURE. 

The next morning brought me two letters; one from Mrs. Everard, tellingme that she and the Colonel had resolved on coming to Paris. 

"All the nice people are going away from here, " she wrote. "MadameDidier and her husband have started for Naples; and, to crown ourlonesomeness, Raffaello Cellini packed up all his traps, and left usyesterday morning en route for Rome. The weather continues to bedelicious; but as you seem to be getting on so well in Paris, in spiteof the cold there, we have made up our minds to join you, the moreespecially as I want to renovate my wardrobe. We shall go straight tothe Grand Hotel; and I am writing to Mrs. Challoner by this post, asking her to get us rooms. We are so glad you are feeling nearlyrecovered--of course, you must not leave your physician till you arequite ready. At any rate, we shall not arrive till the end of nextweek. "

I began to calculate. During that strange interview in the chapel, Heliobas had said that in eight days more I should be strong enough toundergo the transmigration he had promised to effect upon me. Thoseeight days were now completed on this very morning. I was glad of this;for I did not care to see Mrs. Everard or anyone till the experimentwas over. The other letter I received was from Mrs. Challoner, whoasked me to give an "Improvisation" at the Grand Hotel that dayfortnight. 

When I went down to breakfast, I mentioned both these letters, andsaid, addressing myself to Heliobas:

"Is it not rather a sudden freak of Raffaello Cellini's to leaveCannes? We all thought he was settled for the winter there. Did youknow he was going to Rome?"

"Yes, " replied Heliobas, as he stirred his coffee abstractedly. "I knewhe was going there some day this month; his presence is required thereon business. "

"And are you going to give the Improvisation this Mrs. Challoner asksyou for?" inquired Zara. 

I glanced at Heliobas. He answered for me. 

"I should certainly give it if I were you, " he said quietly: "therewill be nothing to prevent your doing so at the date named. "

I was relieved. I had not been altogether able to divest myself of theidea that I might possibly never come out alive from the electrictrance to which I had certainly consented; and this assurance on thepart of Heliobas was undoubtedly comforting. We were all very silentthat morning; we all wore grave and preoccupied expressions. Zara wasvery pale, and appeared lost in thought. Heliobas, too, looked slightlycareworn, as though he had been up all night, engaged in somebrain-exhausting labour. No mention was made of Prince Ivan; we avoidedhis name by a sort of secret mutual understanding. When the breakfastwas over, I looked with a fearless smile at the calm face of Heliobas, which appeared nobler and more dignified than ever with that slighttouch of sadness upon it, and said softly:

"The eight days are accomplished!"

He met my gaze fully, with a steady and serious observation of myfeatures, and replied:

"My child, I am aware of it. I expect you in my private room at noon. In the meantime speak to no one--not even to Zara; read no books; touchno note of music. The chapel has been prepared for you; go there andpray. When you see a small point of light touch the extreme edge of thecross upon the altar, it will be twelve o'clock, and you will then cometo me. "

With these words, uttered in a grave and earnest tone, he left me. Asensation of sudden awe stole upon me. I looked at Zara. She laid herfinger on her lips and smiled, enjoining silence; then drawing my handclose within her own, she led me to the door of the chapel. There shetook a soft veil of some white transparent fabric, and flung it overme, embracing and kissing me tenderly as she did so, but uttering noword. Taking my hand again, she entered the chapel with me, andaccompanied me through what seemed a blaze of light and colour to thehigh altar, before which was placed a prie-dieu of crimson velvet. Motioning me to kneel, she kissed me once more through the filmy veilthat covered me from head to foot; then turning noiselessly away shedisappeared, and I heard the heavy oaken door close behind her. Leftalone, I was able to quietly take note of everything around me. Thealtar before which I knelt was ablaze with lighted candles, and awealth of the purest white flowers decorated it, mingling theirdelicious fragrance with the faintly perceptible odour of incense. Onall sides of the chapel, in every little niche, and at every shrine, tapers were burning like fireflies in a summer twilight. At the foot ofthe large crucifix, which occupied a somewhat shadowy corner, lay awreath of magnificent crimson roses. It would seem as though some highfestival were about to be celebrated, and I gazed around me with abeating heart, half expecting some invisible touch to awaken the notesof the organ and a chorus of spirit-voices to respond with the "Gloriain excelsis Deo!" But there was silence--absolute, beautiful, restfulsilence. I strove to collect my thoughts, and turning my eyes towardsthe jewelled cross that surmounted the high altar, I clasped my hands, and began to wonder how and for what I should pray. Suddenly the ideastruck me that surely it was selfish to ask Heaven for anything; wouldit not be better to reflect on all that had already been given to me, and to offer up thanks? Scarcely had this thought entered my mind whena sort of overwhelming sense of unworthiness came over me. Had I everbeen unhappy? I wondered. If so, why? I began to count up my blessingsand compare them with my misfortunes. Exhausted pleasure-seekers may besurprised to hear that I proved the joys of my life to have farexceeded my sorrows. I found that I had sight, hearing, youth, soundlimbs, an appreciation of the beautiful in art and nature, and anintense power of enjoyment. For all these things, impossible ofpurchase by mere wealth, should I not give thanks? For every golden rayof sunshine, for every flower that blooms, for the harmonies of thewind and sea, for the singing of birds and the shadows of trees, shouldI not--should we not all give thanks? For is there any human sorrow sogreat that the blessing of mere daylight on the earth does not farexceed? We mortals are spoilt and petted children--the more gifts wehave the more we crave; and when we burn or wound ourselves by our ownobstinacy or carelessness, we are ungratefully prone to blame theSupreme Benefactor for our own faults. We don black mourning robes as asort of sombre protest against Him for having removed some specialobject of our choice and love, whereas, if we believed in Him and weregrateful to Him, we should wear dazzling white in sign of rejoicingthat our treasure is safe in the land of perfect joy where we ourselvesdesire to be. Do we suffer from illness, loss of money, position, orfriends, we rail against Fate--another name for God--and complain likebabes who have broken their toys; yet the sun shines on, the seasonscome and go, the lovely panorama of Nature unrolls itself all for ourbenefit, while we murmur and fret and turn our eyes away in anger. 

Thinking of these things and kneeling before the altar, my heart becamefilled with gratitude; and no petition suggested itself to me save one, and that was, "Let me believe and love!" I thought of the fair, strong, stately figure of Christ, standing out in the world's history, like astatue of pure white marble against a dark background; I mused on theendurance, patience, forgiveness, and perfect innocence of that mostspotless life which was finished on the cross, and again I murmured, "Let me believe and love!" And I became so absorbed in meditation thatthe time fled fast, till a sudden sparkle of flame flashing across thealtar-steps caused me to look up. The jewelled cross had become a crossof fire. The point of light I had been, told to watch for had not onlytouched the extreme edge, but had crept down among all the preciousstones and lit them up like stars. I afterwards learned that thiseffect was produced by means of a thin, electric wire, which, communicating with a timepiece constructed on the same system, illuminated the cross at sunrise, noon, and sunset. It was time for meto join Heliobas. I rose gently, and left the chapel with a quiet andreverent step, for I have always thought that to manifest hurry andimpatience in any place set apart for the worship of the Creator is toprove yourself one of the unworthiest things created. Once outside thedoor I laid aside my veil, and then, with a perfectly composed andfearless mind, went straight to the Electrician's study. I shall neverforget the intense quiet of the house that morning. The very fountainin the hall seemed to tinkle in a sort of subdued whisper. I foundHeliobas seated at his table, reading. How my dream came vividly backto me, as I saw him in that attitude! I felt that I knew what he wasreading. He looked up as I entered, and greeted me with a kindly yetgrave smile. I broke silence abruptly. 

"Your book is open, " I said, "at a passage commencing thus: 'Theuniverse is upheld solely by the Law of Love. A majestic invisibleProtectorate governs the winds, the tides. ' Is it not so?"

"It is so, " returned Heliobas. "Are you acquainted with the book?"

"Only through the dream I had of you at Cannes, " I answered. "I dothink Signor Cellini had some power over me. "

"Of course he had in your then weak state. But now that you are asstrong as he is, he could not influence you at all. Let us be brief inour converse, my child. I have a few serious things to say to youbefore you leave me, on your celestial journey. "

I trembled slightly, but took the chair he pointed out to me--a largeeasy-chair in which one could recline and sleep. 

"Listen, " continued Heliobas; "I told you, when you first came here, that whatever I might do to restore you to health, you would have it inyour power to repay me amply. You ARE restored to health; will you giveme my reward?"

"I would and will do anything to prove my gratitude to you, " I saidearnestly. "Only tell me how. "

"You are aware, " he went on, "of my theories respecting the ElectricSpirit or Soul in Man. It is progressive, as I have told you--it beginsas a germ--it goes on increasing in power and beauty for ever, till itis great and pure enough to enter the last of all worlds--God's World. But there are sometimes hindrances to its progression--obstacles in itspath, which cause it to recoil and retire a long way back--so far backoccasionally that it has to commence its journey over again. Now, by myearnest researches, I am able to study and watch the progress of my owninner force or soul. So far, all has been well--prayerfully and humblyI may say I believe all has been well. But I foresee an approachingshadow--a difficulty--a danger--which, if it cannot be repelled orpassed in some way, threatens to violently push back my advancingspiritual nature, so that, with much grief and pain, I shall have tore-commence the work that I had hoped was done. I cannot, with all mybest effort, discover WHAT this darkening obstacle is--but YOU, yes, YOU"--for I had started up in surprise--"you, when you are lifted uphigh enough to behold these things, may, being perfectly unselfish inthis research, attain to the knowledge of it and explain it to me, whenyou return. In trying to probe the secret for myself, it is of coursepurely for my own interest; and nothing clear, nothing satisfactory canbe spiritually obtained, in which selfishness has ever so slight ashare. You, if indeed I deserve your gratitude for the aid I have givenyou--you will be able to search out the matter more certainly, being inthe position of one soul working for another. Still, I cannot compelyou to do this for me--I only ask, WILL you?"

His entreating and anxious tone touched me keenly; but I was amazed andperplexed, and could not yet realize what strange thing was going tohappen to me. But whatever occurred I was resolved to give a readyconsent to his request, therefore I said firmly:

"I will do my best, I promise you. Remember that I do not know, Icannot even guess where I am going, or what strange sensations willovercome me; but if I am permitted to have any recollection of earth atall, I will try to find out what you ask. "

Heliobas seemed satisfied, and rising from his chair, unlocked aheavily-bound iron safe. From this he took a glass flask of a strange, ever-moving, glittering fluid, the same in appearance as that whichRaffaello Cellini had forbidden me to drink. He then paused and lookedsearchingly at me. 

"Tell me, " he said in an authoritative tone, "tell me WHY you wish tosee what to mortals is unseen? What motive have you? What ulteriorplan?"

I hesitated. Then I gathered my strength together and answereddecisively:

"I desire to know why this world, this universe exists; and also wishto prove, if possible, the truth and necessity of religion. And I thinkI would give my life, if it were worth anything, to be certain of thetruth of Christianity. "

Heliobas gazed in my face with a sort of half-pity, half-censure. 

"You have a daring aim, " he said slowly, "and you are a bold seeker. But shame, repentance and sorrow await you where you are going, as wellas rapture and amazement. '_I_ WOULD GIVE MY LIFE IF IT WERE WORTHANYTHING. ' That utterance has saved you--otherwise to soar into anunexplored wilderness of spheres, weighted by your own doubts andguided solely by your own wild desires, would be a fruitless journey. "

I felt abashed as I met his steady, scrutinizing eyes. 

"Surely it is well to wish to know the reason of things?" I asked, withsome timidity. 

"The desire of knowledge is a great virtue, certainly, " he replied; "itis not truly felt by one in a thousand. Most persons are content tolive and die, absorbed in their own petty commonplace affairs, withouttroubling themselves as to the reasons of their existence. Yet it isalmost better, like these, to wallow in blind ignorance than wantonlyto doubt the Creator because He is unseen, or to put a self-opinionatedconstruction on His mysteries because He chooses to veil them from oureyes. "

"I do not doubt!" I exclaimed earnestly. "I only want to make sure, andthen perhaps I may persuade others. "

"You can never compel faith, " said Heliobas calmly. "You are going tosee wonderful things that no tongue or pen can adequately describe. Well, when you return to earth again, do you suppose you can makepeople believe the story of your experiences? Never! Be thankful if youare the possessor of a secret joy yourself, and do not attempt toimpart it to others, who will only repel and mock you. "

"Not even to one other?" I asked hesitatingly. 

A warm, kindly smile seemed to illuminate his face as I put thisquestion. 

"Yes, to one other, the other half of yourself--you may tell allthings, " he said. "But now, no more converse. If you are quite ready, drink this. "

He held out to me a small tumbler filled with the sparkling volatileliquid he had poured from the flask. For one moment my courage almostforsook me, and an icy shiver ran through my veins. Then I bethoughtmyself of all my boasted bravery; was it possible that I should failnow at this critical moment? I allowed myself no more time forreflection, but took the glass from his hand and drained its contentsto the last drop. It was tasteless, but sparkling and warm on thetongue. Scarcely had I swallowed it, when a curiously light, dizzysensation overcame me, and the figure of Heliobas standing before meseemed to assume gigantic proportions. I saw his hands extend--hiseyes, like lamps of electric flame, burned through and through me--andlike a distant echo, I heard the deep vibrating tones of his voiceuttering the following words:

"Azul! Azul! Lift up this light and daring spirit unto thyself; be itspioneer upon the path it must pursue; suffer it to float untrammelledthrough the wide and glorious Continents of Air; give it form and forceto alight on any of the vast and beautiful spheres it may desire tobehold; and if worthy, permit it to gaze, if only for a brief interval, upon the supreme vision of the First and Last of worlds. By the forcethou givest unto me, I free this soul; do thou, Azul, quickly receiveit!"

A dense darkness now grew thickly around me---I lost all power over mylimbs--I felt myself being lifted up forcibly and rapidly, up, up, intosome illimitable, terrible space of blackness and nothingness. I couldnot think, move, or cry out--I could only feel that I was rising, rising, steadily, swiftly, breathlessly ... When suddenly a longquivering flash of radiance, like the fragment of a rainbow, struckdazzlingly across my sight. Darkness? What had I to do with darkness? Iknew not the word--I was only conscious of light--light exquisitelypure and brilliant--light through which I stepped as easily as a birdflies in air. Perfectly awake to my sensations, I felt somehow thatthere was nothing remarkable in them--I seemed to be at home in somefamiliar element. Delicate hands held mine--a face far lovelier thanthe loveliest face of woman ever dreamed by poet or painter, smiledradiantly at me, and I smiled back again. A voice whispered in strangemusical murmurs, such as I well seemed to know and comprehend:

"Gaze behind thee ere the picture fades. "

I obeyed, half reluctantly, and saw as a passing shadow in a glass, ora sort of blurred miniature painting, the room where Heliobas stood, watching some strange imperfect shape, which I seemed faintly torecognise. It looked like a small cast in clay, very badly executed, ofthe shape I at present wore; but it was incomplete, as though thesculptor had given it up as a failure and gone away, leaving itunfinished. 

"Did I dwell in that body?" I mused to myself, as I felt the perfectionof my then state of being. "How came I shut in such a prison? How poora form--how destitute of faculties--how full of infirmities--howlimited in capabilities--how narrow in all intelligence--howignorant--how mean!"

And I turned for relief to the shining companion who held me, andobeying an impulse suddenly imparted, I felt myself floating higher andhigher till the last limits of the atmosphere surrounding the Earthwere passed, and fields of pure and cloudless ether extended before us. Here we met myriads of creatures like ourselves, all hastening invarious directions--all lovely and radiant as a dream of the fairies. Some of these beings were quite tiny and delicate--some of loftystature and glorious appearance: their forms were human, yet sorefined, improved, and perfected, that they were unlike, while so likehumanity. 

"Askest thou nothing?" whispered the voice beside me. 

"Tell me, " I answered, "what I must know. "

"These spirits that we behold, " went on the voice, "are the guardiansof all the inhabitants of all the planets. Their labours are those oflove and penitence. Their work is to draw other souls to God--toattract them by warnings, by pleading, by praying. They have all wornthe garb of mortality themselves, and they teach mortals by their ownexperience. For these radiant creatures are expiating sins of their ownin thus striving to save others--the oftener they succeed the nearerthey approach to Heaven. This is what is vaguely understood on yourearth as purgatory; the sufferings of spirits who love and long for thepresence of their Creator, and who yet are not pure enough to approachHim. Only by serving and saving others can they obtain at last theirown joy. Every act of ingratitude and forgetfulness and wickednesscommitted by a mortal, detains one or another of these patient workerslonger away from Heaven--imagine then what a weary while many of themhave to wait. "

I made no answer, and we floated on. Higher and higher--higher andhigher--till at last my guide, whom I knew to be that being whomHeliobas had called Azul, bade me pause. We were floating closetogether in what seemed a sea of translucent light. From this point Icould learn something of the mighty workings of the Universe. I gazedupon countless solar systems, that like wheels within wheels revolvedwith such rapidity that they seemed all one wheel. I saw planets whirlaround and around with breathless swiftness, like glittering ballsflung through the air--burning comets flared fiercely past like torchesof alarm for God's wars against Evil--a marvellous procession ofindescribable wonders sweeping on for ever in circles, grand, huge, andimmeasurable. And as I watched the superb pageant, I was not startledor confused--I looked upon it as anyone might look on any quietlandscape scene in what we know of Nature. I scarcely could perceivethe Earth from whence I had come--so tiny a speck was it--nothing but amere pin's point in the burning whirl of immensities. I felt, however, perfectly conscious of a superior force in myself to all these enormousforces around me--I knew without needing any explanation that I wasformed of an indestructible essence, and that were all these stars andsystems suddenly to end in one fell burst of brilliant horror, I shouldstill exist--I should know and remember and feel--should be able towatch the birth of a new Universe, and take my part in its growth anddesign. 

"Remind me why these wonders exist, " I said, turning to my guide, andspeaking in those dulcet sounds which were like music and yet likespeech; "and why amid them all the Earth is believed by its inhabitantsto have merited destruction, and yet to have been found worthy ofredemption?"

"Thy last question shall be answered first, " replied Azul. "Seest thouyonder planet circled with a ring? It is known to the dwellers onEarth, of whom when in clay thou art one, as Saturn. Descend with me!"

And in a breath of time we floated downwards and alighted on a broadand beautiful plain, where flowers of strange shape and colour grew inprofusion. Here we were met by creatures of lofty stature and dazzlingbeauty, human in shape, yet angelic in countenance. They knelt to uswith reverence and joy, and then passed on to their toil or pleasure, whichever invited them, and I looked to Azul for explanation. 

"To these children of the Creator, " said that radiant guide, "isgranted the ability to see and to converse with the spirits of the air. They know them and love them, and implore their protection. In thisplanet sickness and old age are unknown, and death comes as a quietsleep. The period of existence is about two hundred years, according tothe Earth's standard of time; and the process of decay is no moreunlovely than the gentle withering of roses. The influence of theelectric belt around their world is a bar to pestilence and disease, and scatters health with light. All sciences, arts, and inventionsknown on Earth are known here, only to greater perfection. The threeimportant differences between the inhabitants of this planet and thosewho dwell on Earth are these: first they have no rulers in authority, as each one perfectly governs himself; second, they do not marry, asthe law of attraction which draws together any two of opposite sexes, holds them fast in inviolable fidelity; thirdly, there is no creaturein all the immensity of this magnificent sphere who has ever doubted, or who ever will doubt, the existence of the Creator. "

A thrill of fiery shame seemed to dart through my spiritual being as Iheard this, and I made no answer. Some fairy-like little creatures, thechildren of the Saturnites, as I supposed, here came running towards usand knelt down, reverently clasping their hands in prayer. They thengathered flowers and flung them on that portion of ground where westood, and gazed at us fearlessly and lovingly, as they might havegazed at some rare bird or butterfly. 

Azul signed to me, and we rose while yet in their sight, and soaringthrough the radiance of the ring, which was like a sun woven into acircle, we soon left Saturn far behind us, and alighted on Venus. Hereseas, mountains, forests, lakes, and meadows were one vast garden, inwhich the bloom and verdure of all worlds seemed to find a home. Herewere realized the dreams of sculptors and painters, in the gracefulforms and exquisite faces of the women, and the splendid strength andgodlike beauty of the men. A brief glance was sufficient to show methat the moving spring of all the civilization of this radiant planetwas the love of Nature and Art united. There were no wars--for therewere no different nations. All the inhabitants were like one vastfamily; they worked for one another, and vied with each other in payinghomage to those of the loftiest genius among them. They had one supremeMonarch to whom they all rendered glad obedience; and he was a Poet, ready to sacrifice his throne with joy as soon as his people shoulddiscover a greater than he. For they all loved not the artist but theArt; and selfishness was a vice unknown. Here, none loved or werewedded save those who had spiritual sympathies, and here, too, nocreature existed who did not believe in and worship the Creator. Thesame state of things existed in Jupiter, the planet we next visited, where everything was performed by electricity. Here persons livinghundreds of miles apart could yet converse together with perfect easethrough an electric medium; ships ploughed the seas by electricity;printing, an art of which the dwellers on Earth are so proud, wasaccomplished by electricity--in fact, everything in the way of science, art, and invention known to us was also known in Jupiter, only togreater perfection, because tempered and strengthened by an electricforce which never failed. From Jupiter, Azul guided me to many otherfair and splendid worlds--yet none of them were Paradise; all had someslight drawback--some physical or spiritual ailment, as it were, whichhad to be combated with and conquered. All the inhabitants of each starlonged for something they had not--something better, greater, andhigher--and therefore all had discontent. They could not realize theirbest desires in the state of existence they then were, therefore theyall suffered disappointment. They were all compelled to work in someway or another; they were all doomed to die. Yet, unlike the dwellerson Earth, they did not, because their lives were more or lessconstrained and painful, complain of or deny the goodness of God--onthe contrary, they believed in a future state which should be asperfect as their present one was imperfect; and the chief aim andobject of all their labours was to become worthy of attaining thatfinal grand result--Eternal Happiness and Peace. 

"Readest thou the lesson in these glowing spheres, teeming with lifeand learning?" murmured Azul to me, as we soared swiftly on together. "Know that not one smallest world in all the myriad systems circlingbefore thee, holds a single human creature who doubts his Maker. Notone! except thine own doomed star! Behold it yonder--sparkling feebly, like a faint flame amid sunshine--how poor a speck it is--how like ascarcely visible point in all the brilliancy of the ever-revolvingwheel of Life! Yet there dwell the dwarfs of clay--the men and womenwho pretend to love while they secretly hate and despise one another. There, wealth is a god, and the greed of gain a virtue. There, geniusstarves, and heroism dies unrewarded. There, faith is martyred, andunbelief elected sovereign monarch of the people. There, the sublime, unreachable mysteries of the Universe are haggled over by poor finiteminds who cannot call their lives their own. There, nation wars againstnation, creed against creed, soul against soul. Alas, fated planet! howsoon shalt thou be extinct, and thy place shall know thee no more!"

I gazed earnestly at my radiant guide. "If that is true, " I said, "whythen should we have a legend that God, in the person of one calledChrist, came to die for so miserable and mean a race of beings?"

Azul answered not, but turned her luminous eyes upon me with a sort ofwide dazzling wonder. Some strange impelling force bore me onward, andbefore I could realize it I was alone. Alone, in a vast area of lightthrough which I floated, serene and conscious of power. A sound fallingfrom a great height reached me; it was first like a grand organ-chord, and then like a voice, trumpet-clear and far-echoing. 

"Spirit that searchest for the Unseen, " it said, "because I will notthat no atom of true worth should perish, unto thee shall be given avision--unto thee shall be taught a lesson thou dreamest not of. THOUshalt create; THOU shalt design and plan; THOU shalt be worshipped, andTHOU shalt destroy! Rest therefore in the light and behold the thingsthat are in the light, for the tune cometh when all that seemeth clearand visible now shall be but darkness. And they that love me not shallhave no place of abode in that hour!"

The voice ceased. Awed, yet consoled, I listened for it again. Therewas no more sound. Around me was illimitable light--illimitablesilence. But a strange scene unfolded itself swiftly before me--a sortof shifting dream that was a reality, yet so wonderfully unreal--avision that impressed itself on every portion of my intelligence; akind of spirit-drama in which I was forced to enact the chief part, andwhere a mystery that I had deemed impenetrable was made perfectly clearand simple of comprehension. 

CHAPTER XI. 

A MINIATURE CREATION. 

In my heaven-uplifted dream, I thought I saw a circular spacious gardenin which all the lovely landscapes of a superior world appeared to formthemselves by swift degrees. The longer I looked at it, the morebeautiful it became, and a little star shone above it like a sun. Treesand flowers sprang up under my gaze, and all stretched themselvestowards me, as though for protection. Birds flew about and sang; someof them tried to get as near as possible to the little sun they saw;and other living creatures began to move about in the shadows of thegroves, and on the fresh green grass. All the wonderful workings ofNature, as known to us in the world, took place over again in thisgarden, which seemed somehow to belong to me; and I watched everythingwith a certain satisfaction and delight. Then the idea came to me thatthe place would be fairer if there were either men or angels to inhabitit; and quick as light a whisper came to me:

 "CREATE!"

And I thought in my dream that by the mere desire of my being, expressed in waves of electric warmth that floated downwards from me tothe earth I possessed, my garden was suddenly filled with men, womenand children, each of whom had a small portion of myself in them, inasmuch as it was I who made them move and talk and occupy themselvesin all manner of amusements. Many of them knelt down to me and prayed, and offered thanksgivings for having been created; but some of themwent instead to the little star, which they called a sun, and thankedthat, and prayed to that instead. Then others went and cut down thetrees in the garden, and dug up stones, and built themselves littlecities, where they all dwelt together like flocks of sheep, and ate anddrank and made merry with the things I had given them. Then I thoughtthat I increased their intelligence and quickness of perception, andby-and-by they grew so proud that they forgot everything butthemselves. They ceased to remember how they were created, and theycared no more to offer praises to their little sun that through me gavethem light and heat. But because something of my essence still was inthem, they always instinctively sought to worship a superior creatureto themselves; and puzzling themselves in their folly, they madehideous images of wood and clay, unlike anything in heaven or earth, and offered sacrifices and prayer to these lifeless puppets instead ofto me. Then I turned away my eyes in sorrow and pity, but never inanger; for I could not be wrathful with these children of my owncreation. And when I thus turned away my eyes, all manner of evil cameupon the once fair scene--pestilence and storm, disease and vice. Adark shadow stole between my little world and me--the shadow of thepeople's own wickedness. And as every delicate fibre of my spiritualbeing repelled evil by the necessity of the pure light in which I dweltserene. I waited patiently for the mists to clear, so that I mightagain behold the beauty of my garden. Suddenly a soft clamour smoteupon my sense of hearing, and a slender stream of light, like aconnecting ray, seemed to be flung upwards through the darkness thathid me from the people I had created and loved. I knew the sound--itwas the mingled music of the prayers of children. An infinite pity andpleasure touched me, my being thrilled with love and tenderness; andyielding to these little ones who asked me for protection, I turned myeyes again towards the garden I had designed for fairness and pleasure. But alas! how changed it had become! No longer fresh and sweet, thepeople had turned it into a wilderness; they had divided it into smallportions, and in so doing had divided themselves into separatecompanies called nations, all of whom fought with each other fiercelyfor their different little parterres or flower-beds. Some haggled andtalked incessantly over the mere possession of a stone which theycalled a rock; others busied themselves in digging a little yellowmetal out of the earth, which, when once obtained, seemed to make theowners of it mad, for they straightway forgot everything else. As Ilooked, the darkness between me and my creation grew denser, and wasonly pierced at last by those long wide shafts of radiance caused bythe innocent prayers of those who still remembered me. And I was fullof regret, for I saw my people wandering hither and thither, restlessand dissatisfied, perplexed by their own errors, and caring nothing forthe love I bore them. Then some of them advanced and began to questionwhy they had been created, forgetting completely how their lives hadbeen originally designed by me for happiness, love and wisdom. Thenthey accused me of the existence of evil, refusing to see that wherethere is light there is also darkness, and that darkness is the rivalforce of the Universe, whence cometh silently the Unnamable Oblivion ofSouls. They could not see, my self-willed children, that they had oftheir own desire sought the darkness and found it; and now, because itgloomed above them like a pall, they refused to believe in the lightwhere still I was loving and striving to attract them still. Yet it wasnot all darkness, and I knew that even what there was might be repelledand cleared away if only my people would turn towards me once more. SoI sent down upon them all possible blessings--some they rejectedangrily, some they snatched at and threw away again, as though theywere poor and trivial--none of them were they thankful for, and nonedid they desire to keep. And the darkness above them deepened, while myanxious pity and love for them increased. For how could I turnaltogether away from them, as long as but a few remembered me? Therewere some of these weak children of mine who loved and honoured me sowell that they absorbed some of my light into themselves, and becameheroes, poets, musicians, teachers of high and noble thought, andunselfish, devoted martyrs for the sake of the reverence they bore me. There were women pure and sweet, who wore their existence as innocentlyas lilies, and who turned to me to seek protection, not for themselves, but for those they loved. There were little children, whose askingvoices were like waves of delicious music to my being, and for whom Ihad a surpassing tenderness. And yet all these were a mere handfulcompared to the numbers who denied my existence, and who had wilfullycrushed out and repelled every spark of my essence in themselves. Andas I contemplated this, the voice I had heard at the commencement of mydream rushed towards me like a mighty wind broken through by thunder:

 "DESTROY!"

A great pity and love possessed me. In deep awe, yet solemnearnestness, I pleaded with that vast commanding voice. 

"Bid me not destroy!" I implored. "Command me not to disperse intonothingness these children of my fancy, some of whom yet love and trustto me for safety. Let me strive once more to bring them out of theirdarkness into the light--to bring them to the happiness I designed themto enjoy. They have not all forgotten me--let me give them more timefor thought and recollection!"

Again the great voice shook the air:

"They love darkness rather than light; they love the perishable earthof which they are in part composed, better than the germ of immortalitywith which they were in the beginning endowed. This garden of thine isbut a caprice of thy intelligence; the creatures that inhabit it aresoulless and unworthy, and are an offence to that indestructibleradiance of which thou art one ray. Therefore I say unto theeagain--DESTROY!"

My yearning love grew stronger, and I pleaded with renewed force. 

"Oh, thou Unseen Glory!" I cried; "thou who hast filled me with thisemotion of love and pity which permeates and supports my existence, howcanst thou bid me take this sudden revenge upon my frail creation! Nocaprice was it that caused me to design it; nothing but a thought oflove and a desire of beauty. Even yet I will fulfil my plan--even yetshall these erring children of mine return to me in time, withpatience. While one of them still lifts a hand in prayer to me, orgratitude, I cannot destroy! Bid me rather sink into the darkness ofthe uttermost deep of shadow; only let me save these feeble little onesfrom destruction!"

The voice replied not. A flashing opal brilliancy shot across the lightin which I rested, and I beheld an Angel, grand, lofty, majestic, witha countenance in which shone the lustre of a myriad summer mornings. 

"Spirit that art escaped from the Sorrowful Star, " it said in accentsclear and sonorous, "wouldst thou indeed be content to suffer the lossof heavenly joy and peace, in order to rescue thy perishing creation?"

"I would!" I answered; "if I understood death, I would die to save oneof those frail creatures, who seek to know me and yet cannot find methrough the darkness they have brought upon themselves. "

"To die, " said the Angel, "to understand death, thou wouldst need tobecome one of them, to take upon thyself their form--to imprison allthat brilliancy of which thou art now composed, into a mean and commoncase of clay; and even if thou couldst accomplish this, would thychildren know thee or receive thee?"

"Nay, but if I could suffer shame by them, " I cried impetuously, "Icould not suffer sin. My being would be incapable of error, and I wouldshow these creatures of mine the bliss of purity, the joy of wisdom, the ecstasy of light, the certainty of immortality, if they followedme. And then I would die to show them death is easy, and that in dyingthey would come to me and find their happiness for ever!"

The stature of the Angel grew more lofty and magnificent, and itsstar-like eyes flashed fire. 

"Then, oh thou wanderer from the Earth!" it said, "understandest thounot the Christ?"

A deep awe trembled through me. Meanwhile the garden I had thought aworld appeared to roll up like a cloudy scroll, and vanished, and Iknew that it had been a vision, and no more. 

"Oh doubting and foolish Spirit!" went on the Angel--"thou who art butone point of living light in the Supreme Radiance, even THOU wouldstconsent to immure thyself in the darkness of mortality for sake of thyfancied creation! Even THOU wouldst submit to suffer and to die, inorder to show the frail children of thy dream a purely sinless andspiritual example! Even THOU hast had the courage to plead with the OneAll-Sufficing Voice against the destruction of what to thee was but amirage floating in this ether! Even THOU hast had love, forgiveness, pity! Even THOU wouldst be willing to dwell among the creatures of thyfancy as one of them, knowing in thy inner self that by so doing, thyspiritual presence would have marked thy little world for ever assanctified and impossible to destroy. Even THOU wouldst sacrifice aglory to answer a child's prayer--even thou wouldst have patience! Andyet thou hast dared to deny to God those attributes which thou thyselfdost possess--He is so great and vast--thou so small and slight! Forthe love thou feelest throbbing through thy being, He is the verycommencement and perfection of all love; if thou hast pity, He has tenthousand times more pity; if THOU canst forgive, remember that from Himflows all thy power of forgiveness! There is nothing thou canst do, even at the highest height of spiritual perfection, that He cannotsurpass by a thousand million fold! Neither shalt thou refuse tobelieve that He can also suffer. Know that nothing is more godlike thanunselfish sorrow--and the grief of the Creator over one erring humansoul is as vast as He Himself is vast. Why wouldst thou make of Him abeing destitute of the best emotions that He Himself bestows upon thee?THOU wouldst have entered into thy dream-world and lived in it and diedin it, if by so doing thou couldst have drawn one of thy creatures backto the love of thee; and wilt thou not receive the Christ?"

I bowed my head, and a flood of joy rushed through me. 

"I believe--I believe and I love!" I murmured. "Desert me not, Oradiant Angel! I feel and know that all these wonders must soon passaway from my sight; but wilt thou also go?"

The Angel smiled and touched me. 

"I am thy guardian, " it said. "I have been with thee always. I cannever leave thee so long as thy soul seeks spiritual things. Asleep orawake on the Earth, wherever thou art, I also am. There have been timeswhen I have warned thee and thou wouldst not listen, when I have triedto draw thee onward and thou wouldst not come; but now I fear no morethy disobedience, for thy restlessness is past. Come with me; it ispermitted thee to see far off the vision of the Last Circle. "

The glorious figure raised me gently by the hand, and we floated on andon, higher and higher, past little circles which my guide told me wereall solar systems, though they looked nothing but slender garlands offire, so rapidly did they revolve and so swiftly did we pass them. Higher and higher we went, till even to my untiring spirit the wayseemed long. Beautiful creatures in human shape, but as delicate asgossamer, passed us every now and then, some in bands of twos andthrees, some alone; and the higher we soared the more dazzlingly lovelythese inhabitants of the air seemed to be. 

"They are all born of the Great Circle, " my guardian Angel explained tome: "and to them is given the power of communicating high thought orinspiration. Among them are the Spirits of Music, of Poesy, ofProphecy, and of all Art ever known in all worlds. The success of theirteaching depends on how much purity and unselfishness there is in thesoul to which they whisper their divine messages--messages as brief astelegrams which must be listened to with entire attention and actedupon at once, or the lesson is lost and may never come again. "

Just then I saw a Shape coming towards me as of a lovely fair-hairedchild, who seemed to be playing softly on a strange glitteringinstrument like a broken cloud strung through with sunbeams. Heedlessof consequences, I caught at its misty robe in a wild effort to detainit. It obeyed my touch, and turned its deeply luminous eyes first uponme, and then upon the Angel who accompanied my flight. 

"What seekest thou?" it asked in a voice like the murmuring of the windamong flowers. 

"Music!" I answered. "Sing me thy melodies--fill me with harmoniesdivine and unreachable--and I will strive to be worthy of thyteachings!"

The young Shape smiled and drew closer towards me. 

"Thy wish is granted, Sister Spirit!" it replied. "The pity I shallfeel for thy fate when thou art again pent in clay, shall be taughtthee in minor music--thou shalt possess the secret of unwritten sound, and I will sing to thee and bring thee comfort. On Earth, call but myname--Aeon! and thou shalt behold me. For thy longing voice is known tothe Children of Music, and hath oft shaken the vibrating light whereinthey dwell. Fear not! As long as thou dost love me, I am thine. " Andparting slowly, still smiling, the lovely vision, with its smallradiant hands ever wandering among the starry strings of its cloud-likelyre, floated onward. 

Suddenly a clear voice said "Welcome!" and looking up I saw my firstfriend, Azul. I smiled in glad recognition--I would have spoken--butlo! a wide immensity of blazing glory broke like many-colouredlightning around me--so dazzling, so overpowering, that I instinctivelydrew back and paused--I felt I could go no further. 

"Here, " said my guardian gently--"here ends thy journey. Would that itwere possible, poor Spirit, for thee to pass this boundary! But thatmay not be--as yet. In the meanwhile thou mayest gaze for a brief spaceupon the majestic sphere which mortals dream of as Heaven. Behold andsee how fair is the incorruptible perfection of God's World!"

I looked and trembled--I should have sunk yet further backward, had notAzul and my Angel-guide held me with their light yet forcible clasp. Myheart fails me now as I try to write of that tremendous, that sublimescene--the Centre of the Universe--the Cause of all Creation. Howunlike Heaven such as we in our ignorance have tried to depict! thoughit is far better we should have a mistaken idea than none at all. WhatI beheld was a circle, so huge that no mortal measurements couldcompass it--a wide Ring composed of seven colours, rainbow-like, butflashing with perpetual motion and brilliancy, as though a thousandmillion suns were for ever being woven into it to feed its transcendentlustre. From every part of this Ring darted long broad shafts of light, some of which stretched out so far that I could not see where theyended; sometimes a bubbling shower of lightning sparks would be flungout on the pure ether, and this would instantly form into circles, small or great, and whirl round and round the enormous girdle of flamefrom which they had been cast, with the most inconceivable rapidity. But wonderful as the Ring was, it encompassed a Sphere yet moremarvellous and dazzling; a great Globe of opal-tinted light, revolvingas it were upon its own axis, and ever surrounded by thatscintillating, jewel-like wreath of electricity, whose only motion wasto shine and burn within itself for ever. I could not bear to look uponthe brightness of that magnificent central World--so large thatmultiplying the size of the sun by a hundred thousand millions, noadequate idea could be formed of its vast proportions. And ever itrevolved--and ever the Rainbow Ring around it glittered and cast forththose other rings which I knew now were living solar systems cast forthfrom that electric band as a volcano casts forth fire and lava. MyAngel-guide motioned me to look towards that side of the Ring which wasnearest to the position of the Earth. I looked, and perceived thatthere the shafts of descending light formed themselves as they fellinto the shape of a Cross. At this, such sorrow, love, and shameovercame me, that I knew not where to turn. I murmured:

"Send me back again, dear Angel--send me back to that Star of Sorrowand Error! Let me hasten to make amends there for all my folly--let metry to teach others what now I know. I am unworthy to be here besidethee--I am unfit to look on yonder splendid World--let me return to dopenance for my sins and shortcomings; for what am I that God shouldbless me? and though I should consume myself in labour and suffering, how can I ever hope to deserve the smallest place in that heavenlyglory I now partly behold?" And could spirits shed tears, I should havewept with remorse and grief. 

Azul spoke, softly and tenderly:

"Now thou dost believe--henceforth thou must love! Love alone can passyon flaming barrier--love alone can gain for thee eternal bliss. Inlove and for love were all things made--God loveth His creatures, evenso let His creatures love Him, and so shall the twain be drawntogether. "

"Listen!" added my Angel-guide. "Thou hast not travelled so far as yetto remain in ignorance. That burning Ring thou seest is the result ofthe Creator's ever-working Intelligence; from it all the Universe hathsprung. It is exhaustless and perpetually creative; it is pure andperfect Light. The smallest spark of that fiery essence in a mortalframe is sufficient to form a soul or spirit, such as mine, or that ofAzul, or thine, when thou art perfected. The huge world rolling withinthe Ring is where God dwells. Dare not thou to question His shape, Hislook, His mien! Know that He is the Supreme Spirit in which all Beauty, all Perfection, all Love, find consummation. His breath is the fire ofthe Ring; His look, His pleasure, cause the motion of His World and allworlds. There where He dwells, dwell also all pure souls; there alldesires have fulfilment without satiety, and there all loveliness, wisdom or pleasure known in any or all of the other spheres are alsoknown. Speak, Azul, and tell this wanderer from Earth what she willgain in winning her place in Heaven. "

Azul looked tenderly upon me and said:

"When thou hast slept the brief sleep of death, when thou art permittedto throw off for ever thy garb of clay, and when by thine own ceaselesslove and longing thou hast won the right to pass the Great Circle, thoushalt find thyself in a land where the glories of the natural sceneryalone shall overpower thee with joy--scenery that for ever changes intonew wonders and greater beauty. Thou shalt hear music such as thoucanst not dream of. Thou shalt find friends, beyond all imaginationfair and faithful. Thou shalt read and see the history of all theplanets, produced for thee in an ever-moving panorama. Thou shalt loveand be beloved for ever by thine own Twin Soul; wherever that spiritmay be now, it must join thee hereafter. The joys of learning, memory, consciousness, sleep, waking, and exercise shall all be thine. Sin, sorrow, pain, disease and death thou shalt know no more. Thou shalt beable to remember happiness, to possess it, and to look forward to it. Thou shalt have full and pleasant occupation without fatigue--thy foodand substance shall be light and air. Flowers, rare and imperishable, shall bloom for thee; birds of exquisite form and tender voice shallsing to thee; angels shall be thy companions. Thou shalt have fresh andglad desires to offer to God with every portion of thy existence, andeach one shall be granted as soon as asked, for then thou wilt not beable to ask anything that is displeasing to Him. But because it is ajoy to wish, thou shalt wish! and because it is a joy to grant, so alsowill He grant. No delight, small or great, is wanting in that vastsphere; only sorrow is lacking, and satiety and disappointment have noplace. Wilt thou seek for admittance there or wilt thou faint by theway and grow weary?"

I raised my eyes full of ecstasy and reverence. 

"My mere efforts must count as nothing, " I said; "but if Love can helpme, I will love and long for God's World until I die!"

My guardian Angel pointed to those rays of light I had before noticed, that slanted downwards towards Earth in the form of a Cross. 

"That is the path by which THOU must travel. Mark it well! All pilgrimsfrom the Sorrowful Star must journey by that road. Woe to them thatturn aside to roam mid spheres they know not of, to lose themselves inseas of light wherein they cannot steer! Remember my warning! And now, Spirit who art commended to my watchful care, thy brief liberty isended. Thou hast been lifted up to the outer edge of the ElectricCircle, further we dare not take thee. Hast thou aught else to askbefore the veil of mortality again enshrouds thee?"

I answered not, but within myself I formed a wild desire. The ElectricRing flashed fiercely on my uplifted eyes, but I kept them fixedhopefully and lovingly on its intensely deep brilliancy. 

"If Love and Faith can avail me, " I murmured, "I shall see what I havesought. "

I was not disappointed. The fiery waves of light parted on either sideof the spot where I with my companions rested; and a Figure, --majestic, unutterably grand and beautiful, --approached me. At the same moment anumber of other faces and forms shone hoveringly out of the Ring; one Inoticed like an exquisitely lovely woman, with floating hair and clear, earnest, unfathomable eyes. Azul and the Angel sank reverently down anddrooped their radiant heads like flowers in hot sunshine. I alone, daringly, yet with inexpressible affection welling up within me, watched with unshrinking gaze the swift advance of that supreme Figure, upon whose broad brows rested the faint semblance of a Crown of Thorns. A voice penetratingly sweet addressed me:

"Mortal from the Star I saved from ruin, because thou hast desired Me, I come! Even as thy former unbelief, shall be now thy faith. Becausethou lovest Me, I am with thee. For do I not know thee better than theAngels can? Have I not dwelt in thy clay, suffered thy sorrows, weptthy tears, died thy deaths? One with My Father, and yet one with thee, I demand thy love, and so through Me shalt thou attain immortal life!"

I felt a touch upon me like a scorching flame--a thrill rushed throughmy being--and then I knew that I was sinking down, down, further andfurther away. I saw that wondrous Figure standing serene and smilingbetween the retiring waves of electric radiance. I saw the great innersphere revolve, and glitter as it rolled, like an enormous diamondencircled with gold and sapphire, and then all suddenly the air grewdim and cloudy, and the sensation of falling became more and morerapid. Azul was beside me still, and I also perceived the outline of myguardian Angel's form, though that was growing indistinct. I nowrecalled the request of Heliobas, and spoke:

"Azul, tell me what shadow rests upon the life of him to whom I am nowreturning?"

Azul looked at me earnestly, and replied:

"Thou daring one! Seekest thou to pierce the future fate of others? Isit not enough for thee to have heard the voice that maketh the Angel'ssinging silent, and wouldst thou yet know more?"

I was full of a strange unhesitating courage, therefore I saidfearlessly:

"He is thy Beloved one, Azul--thy Twin Soul; and wilt thou let him fallaway from thee when a word or sign might save him?"

"Even as he is my Beloved, so let him not fail to hear my voice, "replied Azul, with a tinge of melancholy. "For though he hasaccomplished much, he is as yet but mortal. Thou canst guide him thusfar; tell him, when death lies like a gift in his hand, let himwithhold it, and remember me. And now, my friend--farewell!"

I would have spoken again, but could not. An oppressed sensation cameover me, and I seemed to plunge coldly into a depth of inextricableblackness. I felt cramped for room, and struggled for existence, formotion, for breath. What had happened to me? I wondered indignantly. Was I a fettered prisoner? had I lost the use of my light aerial limbsthat had borne me so swiftly through the realms of space? What crushingweight overpowered me? why such want of air and loss of delightfulease? I sighed restlessly and impatiently at the narrow darkness inwhich I found myself--a sorrowful, deep, shuddering sigh .... And WOKE!That is to say, I languidly opened mortal eyes to find myself once morepent up in mortal frame, though I retained a perfect remembrance andconsciousness of everything I had experienced during myspirit-wanderings. Heliobas stood in front of me with outstretchedhands, and his eyes were fixed on mine with a mingled expression ofanxiety and authority, which changed into a look of relief and gladnessas I smiled at him and uttered his name aloud. 

CHAPTER XII. 

SECRETS OF THE SUN AND MOON. 

"Have I been long away?" I asked, as I raised myself upright in thechair where I had been resting. 

"I sent you from hence on Thursday morning at noon, " replied Heliobas. "It is now Friday evening, and within a few minutes of midnight. I wasgrowing alarmed. I have never known anyone stay absent for so long; andyou resisted my authority so powerfully, that I began to fear you wouldnever come back at all. "

"I wish I had not been compelled to do so!" I said regretfully. 

He smiled. 

"No doubt you do. It is the general complaint. Will you stand up nowand see how you feel?"

I obeyed. There was still a slight sensation about me as of beingcramped for space; but this was passing, and otherwise I feltsingularly strong, bright and vigorous. I stretched out my hands inunspeakable gratitude to him through whose scientific power I hadgained my recent experience. 

"I can never thank you enough!" I said earnestly. "I dare say you knowsomething of what I have seen on my journey?"

"Something, but not all, " he replied. "Of course I know what worlds andsystems you saw, but what was said to you, or what special lessons weregiven you for your comfort, I cannot tell. " "Then I will describeeverything while it is fresh upon me, " I returned. "I feel that I mustdo so in order that you may understand how glad I am, --how grateful Iam to you. "

I then related the different scenes through which I had passed, omitting no detail. Heliobas listened with profound interest andattention. When I had finished, he said:

"Yours has been a most wonderful, I may say almost exceptional, experience. It proves to me more than ever the omnipotence of WILL. Most of those who have been placed by my means in the Uplifted orElectric state of being, have consented to it simply to gratify a senseof curiosity--few therefore have gone beyond the pure ether, where, asin a sea, the planets swim. Cellini, for instance, never went fartherthan Venus, because in the atmosphere of that planet he met the Spiritthat rules and divides his destiny. Zara--she was daring, and reachedthe outer rim of the Great Circle; but even she never caught a glimpseof the great Central Sphere. YOU, differing from these, started with adaring aim which you never lost sight of till you had fulfilled it. Howtrue are those words: 'Ask, and it shall be given you; seek, and yeshall find; knock, and it shall be opened unto you'! It is notpossible, " and here he sighed, "that amid such wonders you could haveremembered me--it were foolish on my part to expect it. "

"I confess I thought nothing of you, " I said frankly, "till I wasapproaching Earth again; but then my memory prompted me in time, and Idid not forget your request. "

"And what did you learn?" he asked anxiously. 

"Simply this. Azul said that I might deliver you this message: Whendeath lies like a gift in your hand, withhold it, and remember her. "

"As if I did not always guide myself by her promptings!" exclaimedHeliobas, with a tender smile. 

"You might forget to do so for once, " I said. 

"Never!" he replied fervently. "It could not be. But I thank you, mychild, for having thought of me--the message you bring shall beimpressed strongly on my mind. Now, before you leave me to-night, Imust say a few necessary words. "

He paused, and appeared to consider profoundly for some minutes. Atlast he spoke. 

"I have selected certain writings for your perusal, " he said. "In themyou will find full and clear instructions how to cultivate and educatethe electric force within you, and thus continue the work I have begun. With these you will also perceive that I have written out the receiptfor the volatile fluid which, if taken in a small quantity every day, will keep you in health, strength, and intellectual vigour, while itwill preserve your youth and enjoyment of life to a very much longerextent than that usually experienced by the majority. Understand mewell--this liquid of itself cannot put you into an uplifted state ofexistence; you need HUMAN electric force applied strongly to yoursystem to compass this; and as it is dangerous to try the experimenttoo often--dangerous to the body, I mean--it will be as well, as youhave work to do yet in this life, not to attempt it again. But if youdrink the fluid every morning of your life, and at the same time obeymy written manual as to the cultivation of your own inner force, whichis already existent in a large degree, you will attain to certainadvantages over the rest of the people you meet, which will give younot only physical, but mental power. "

He paused a minute or two, and again went on:

"When you have educated your Will to a certain height of electriccommand, you can at your pleasure see at any time, and see plainly, thespirits who inhabit the air; and also those who, descending to longdistances below the Great Circle, come within the range of humanelectricity, or the attractive matter contained in the Earth'satmosphere. You can converse with them, and they with you. You willalso be able, at your desire, to see the parted spirits of deadpersons, so long as they linger within Earth's radius, which theyseldom do, being always anxious to escape from it as soon as possible. Love may sometimes detain them, or remorse; but even these have toyield to the superior longings which possess them the instant they areset free. You will, in your intercourse with your fellow-mortals, beable to discern their motives quickly and unerringly--you will at oncediscover where you are loved and where you are disliked; and not allthe learning and logic of so-called philosophers shall be able to cloudyour instinct. You will have a keener appreciation of good andbeautiful things--a delightful sense of humour, and invariablecheerfulness; and whatever you do, unless you make some mistake by yourown folly, will carry with it its success. And, what is perhaps agreater privilege, you will find that all who are brought into veryclose contact with you will be beneficially influenced, or the reverse, exactly as you choose to exert your power. I do not think, after whatyou have seen, you will ever desire to exert a malign influence, knowing that the Creator of your being is all love and forgiveness. Atany rate, the greatest force in the universe, electricity, isyours--that is, it has begun to form itself in you--and you havenothing to do but to encourage its growth, just as you would encouragea taste for music or the fine arts. Now let me give you the writings. "

He unlocked a desk, and took from it two small rolls of parchment, onetied with a gold ribbon, the other secured in a kind of case with aclasp. This last he held up before my eyes, and said:

"This contains my private instructions to you. Never make a single oneof them public. The world is not ready for wisdom, and the secrets ofscience can only be explained to the few. Therefore keep this parchmentsafely under lock and key, and never let any eye but your own look uponits contents. "

I promised, and he handed it to me. Then taking the other roll, whichwas tied with ribbon, he said, "Here is written out what I call the Electric Principle ofChristianity. This is for your own study and consideration; still, ifyou ever desire to explain my theory to others, I do not forbid you. But as I told you before, you can never compel belief--the goldfish ina glass bowl will never understand the existence of the ocean. Besatisfied if you can guide yourself by the compass you have found, butdo not grieve if you are unable to guide others. You may try, but itwill not be surprising if you fail. Nor will it be your fault. The onlysorrow that might happen to you in these efforts would be in case youshould love someone very dearly, and yet be unable to instil the truthof what yon know into that particular soul. You would then have to makea discovery, which is always more or less painful--namely, that yourlove was misplaced, inasmuch as the nature you had selected as worthyof love had no part with yours; and that separation utter and eternalmust therefore occur, if not in this life, then in the future. So Iwould say beware of loving, lest you should not love rightly--though Ibelieve you will soon be able to discern clearly the spirit that is byfate destined to complete and perfect your own. And now, though I knowyou are scarcely fatigued enough to sleep, I will say good-night. "

I took the second roll of parchment from his hand, and opening it alittle way, I saw that it was covered with very fine small writing. Then I said:

"Does Zara know how long I have been absent?"

"Yes, " replied Heliobas; "and she, like myself, was surprised andanxious. I think she went to bed long ago; but you may look into herroom and see if she is awake, before you yourself retire to rest. "

As he spoke of Zara his eyes grew melancholy and his brow clouded. Aninstinctive sense of fear came upon me. 

"Is she not well?" I asked. 

"She is perfectly well, " he answered. "Why should you imagine her to beotherwise?"

"Pardon me, " I said; "I fancied that you looked unhappy when Imentioned her. "

Heliobas made no answer. He stepped to the window, and throwing backthe curtain, called me to his side. 

"Look out yonder. " he said in low and earnest tones; "look at the darkblue veil strewn with stars, through which so lately your daring soulpierced its flight! See how the small Moon hangs like a lamp in Heaven, apparently outshining the myriad worlds around her, that are so muchvaster and fairer! How deceptive is the human eye!--nearly as deceptiveas the human reason. Tell me--why did you not visit the Moon, or theSun, in your recent wanderings?"

This question caused me some surprise. It was certainly very strangethat I had not thought of doing so. Yet, on pondering the matter in mymind, I remembered that during my aerial journey suns and moons hadbeen no more to me than flowers strewn on a meadow. I now regrettedthat I had not sought to know something of those two fair luminarieswhich light and warm our earth. 

Heliobas, after watching my face intently, resumed:

"You cannot guess the reason of your omission? I will tell you. Thereis nothing to see in either Sun or Moon. They were both inhabitedworlds once; but the dwellers in the Sun have ages ago lived theirlives and passed to the Central Sphere. The Sun is nothing now but aburning world, burning rapidly, and surely, away: or rather, IT ISBEING ABSORBED BACK INTO THE ELECTRIC CIRCLE FROM WHICH IT ORIGINALLYSPRANG, TO BE THROWN OUT AGAIN IN SOME NEW AND GRANDER FORM. And sowith all worlds, suns and systems, for ever and ever. Hundreds ofthousands of those brief time-breathings called years may pass beforethis consummation of the Sun; but its destruction is going on now, orrather its absorption--and we on our cold small star warm ourselves, and are glad, in the light of an empty world on fire!"

I listened with awe and interest. 

"And the Moon?" I asked eagerly. 

"The Moon does not exist. What we see is the reflection or theelectrograph of what she once was. Atmospherical electricity hasimprinted this picture of a long-ago living world upon the heavens, just as Raphael drew his cartoons for the men of to-day to see. "

"But, " I exclaimed in surprise, "how about the Moon's influence on thetides? and what of eclipses?"

"Not the Moon, but the electric photograph of a once living but nowabsorbed world, has certainly an influence on the tides. The sea isimpregnated with electricity. Just as the Sun will absorb colours, sothe electricity in the sea is repelled or attracted by the electricpicture of the Moon in Heaven. Because, as a painting is full ofcolour, so is that faithful sketch of a vanished sphere, drawn with apencil of pure light, full of immense electricity; and to carry thesimile further, just as a painting may be said to be formed of variousdark and light tints, so the electric portrait of the Moon containsvarious degrees of electric force--which, coming in contact with theelectricity of the Earth's atmosphere, produces different effects on usand on the natural scenes amid which we dwell. As for eclipses--if youslowly pass a round screen between yourself and a blazing fire, youwill only see the edges of the fire. In the same way the electrographof the Moon passes at stated intervals between the Earth and theburning world of the Sun. "

"Yet surely, " I said, "the telescope has enabled us to see the Moon asa solid globe--we have discerned mountains and valleys on its surface;and then it revolves round us regularly--how do you account for thesefacts?"

"The telescope, " returned Heliobas, "is merely an aid to the human eye;and, as I told you before, nothing is so easily deceived as our senseof vision, even when assisted by mechanical appliances. The telescope, like the stereoscope, simply enables us to see the portrait of the Moonmore clearly; but all the same, the Moon, as a world, does not exist. Her likeness, taken by electricity, may last some thousands of years, and as long as it lasts it must revolve around us, because everythingin the universe moves, and moves in a circle. Besides which, thisportrait of the moon being composed of pure electricity, is attractedand forced to follow the Earth by the compelling influence of theEarth's own electric power. Therefore, till the picture fades, it mustattend the Earth like the haunting spectre of a dead joy. You canunderstand now why we never see what we imagine to be the OTHER SIDE ofthe Moon. It simply has NO other side, except space. Space is thecanvas--the Moon is a sketch. How interested we are when a discovery ismade of some rare old painting, of which the subject is a perfectlybeautiful woman! It bears no name--perhaps no date--but the face thatsmiles at us is exquisite--the lips yet pout for kisses--the eyes brimover, with love! And we admire it tenderly and reverently--we mark it'Portrait of a lady, ' and give it an honoured place among our artcollections. With how much more reverence and tenderness ought we tolook up at the 'Portrait of a Fair Lost Sphere, ' circling yonder inthat dense ever-moving gallery of wonders where the hurrying throng ofspectators are living and dying worlds!"

I had followed the speaker's words with fascinated attention, but now Isaid:

"Dying, Heliobas? There is no death. "

"True!" he answered, with hesitating slowness. "But there is what wecall death--transition--and it is always a parting. "

"But not for long!" I exclaimed, with all the gladness and eagerness ofmy lately instructed soul. "As worlds are absorbed into the ElectricCircle and again thrown out in new and more glorious forms, so are weabsorbed and changed into shapes of perfect beauty, having eyes thatare strong and pure enough to look God in the face. The bodyperishes--but what have WE to do with the body--our prison and place ofexperience, except to rejoice when we shake off its weight for ever!"

Heliobas smiled gravely. 

"You have learned your high lesson well, " he said. "You speak with theassurance and delight of a spirit satisfied. But when I talk of DEATH, I mean by that word the parting asunder of two souls who love eachother; and though such separation may be brief, still it is always aseparation. For instance, suppose--" he hesitated: "suppose Zara wereto die?"

"Well, you would soon meet her again, " I answered. "For though youmight live many years after her, still you would know in yourself thatthose years were but minutes in the realms of space--"

"Minutes that decide our destinies, " he interrupted with solemnity. "And there is always this possibility to contemplate--suppose Zara wereto leave me now, how can I be sure that I shall be strong enough tolive out my remainder of life purely enough to deserve to meet heragain? And if not then Zara's death would mean utter and almosthopeless separation for ever--though perhaps I might begin over againin some other form, and so reach the goal. "

He spoke so musingly and seriously that I was surprised, for I hadthought him impervious to such a folly as the fear of death. 

"You are melancholy, Heliobas, " I said. "In the first place, Zara isnot going to leave you yet; and secondly, if she did, you know yourstrongest efforts would be brought to bear on your career, in orderthat no shadow of obstinacy or error might obstruct your path. Why, thevery essence of our belief is in the strength of Will-power. What weWILL to do, especially if it be any act of spiritual progress, we canalways accomplish. "

Heliobas took my hand and pressed it warmly. 

"You are so lately come from the high regions, " he said, "that it warmsand invigorates me to hear your encouraging words. Pray do not think mecapable of yielding long to the weakness of foreboding. I am, in spiteof my advancement in electric science, nothing but a man, and am apt tobe hampered oftentimes by my mortal trappings. We have prolonged ourconversation further than I intended. I assure you it is better for youto try to sleep, even though, as I know, you feel so wide awake. Let megive you a soothing draught; it will have the effect of composing yourphysical nerves into steady working order. "

He poured something from a small phial into a glass, and handed it tome. I drank it at once, obediently, and with a smile. 

"Good-night, my Master!" I then said. "You need have no fear of yourown successful upward progress. For if there were the slightest chanceof your falling into fatal error, all those human souls you havebenefited would labour and pray for your rescue; and I know now thatprayers reach Heaven, so long as they are unselfish. I, though I am oneof the least of your disciples, out of the deep gratitude of my hearttowards you, will therefore pray unceasingly for you, both here andhereafter. "

He bent his head. 

"I thank you!" he said simply. "More deeds are wrought by prayer thanthis world dreams of! That is a true saying. God bless you, my child. Good-night!"

And he opened the door of his study for me to pass out. As I did so, helaid his hand lightly on my head in a sort of unspokenbenediction--then he closed his door, and I found myself alone in thegreat hall. A suspended lamp was burning brightly, and the fountain wasgurgling melodiously to itself in a subdued manner, as if it werelearning a new song for the morning. I sped across the mosaic pavementwith a light eager step, and hurried up the stairs, intent on findingZara to tell her how happy I felt, and how satisfied I was with mywonderful experience. I reached the door of her bedroom--it was ajar. Isoftly pushed it farther open, and looked in. A small but exquisitelymodelled statue of an "Eros" ornamented one corner. His uplifted torchserved as a light which glimmered faintly through a rose-colouredglass, and shed a tender lustre over the room; but especially upon thebed, ornamented with rich Oriental needlework, where Zara lay fastasleep. How beautiful she looked! Almost as lovely as any one of theradiant spirits I had met in my aerial journey! Her rich dark hair wasscattered loosely on the white pillows; her long silky lashes curledsoftly on the delicately tinted cheeks; her lips, tenderly red, likethe colour on budding apple-blossoms in early spring, were slightlyparted, showing the glimmer of the small white teeth within; hernight-dress was slightly undone, and half displayed and half disguisedher neck and daintily rounded bosom, on which the electric jewel shealways wore glittered brilliantly as it rose and sank with her regularand quiet breathing. One fair hand lay outside the coverlet, and thereflection from the lamp of the "Eros" flickered on a ring whichadorned it, making its central diamond flash like a wandering star. 

I looked long and tenderly on this perfect ideal of a "SleepingBeauty, " and then thought I would draw closer and see if I could kissher without awaking her. I advanced a few steps into the room--whensuddenly I was stopped. Within about a yard's distance from the bed aSOMETHING opposed my approach! I could not move a foot forward--I triedvigorously, but in vain! I could step backward, and that was all. Between me and Zara there seemed to be an invisible barrier, strong, and absolutely impregnable. There was nothing to be seen--nothing butthe softly-shaded room--the ever-smiling "Eros, " and the exquisitereposeful figure of my sleeping friend. Two steps, and I could havetouched her; but those two steps I was forcibly prevented frommaking--as forcibly as though a deep ocean had rolled between her andme. I did not stop long to consider this strange occurrence--I feltsure it had something to do with her spiritual life and sympathy, therefore it neither alarmed nor perplexed me. Kissing my hand tenderlytowards my darling, who lay so close to me, and who was yet sojealously and invisibly guarded during her slumbers, I softly andreverently withdrew. On reaching my own apartment, I was more than halfinclined to sit up reading and studying the parchments Heliobas hadgiven me; but on second thoughts I resolved to lock up these preciousmanuscripts and go to bed. I did so, and before preparing to sleep Iremembered to kneel down and offer up praise and honour, with a lovingand believing heart, to that Supreme Glory, of which I had beenmarvellously permitted to enjoy a brief but transcendent glimpse. Andas I knelt, absorbed and happy, I heard, like a soft echo fallingthrough the silence of my room, a sound like distant music, throughwhich these words floated towards me: "A new commandment give I untoyou, that you love one another, even as I have loved you!"

CHAPTER XIII. 

SOCIABLE CONVERSE. 

The next morning Zara came herself to awaken me, looking as fresh andlovely as a summer morning. She embraced me very tenderly, and said:

"I have been talking for more than an hour with Casimir. He has told meeverything. What wonders you have seen! And are you not happy, dearest?Are you not strong and satisfied?"

"Perfectly!" I replied. "But, O Zara! what a pity that all the worldshould not know what we know!"

"All have not a desire for knowledge, " replied Zara. "Even in yourvision of the garden you possessed, there were only a few who stillsought you; for those few you would have done anything, but for theothers your best efforts were in vain. "

"They might not have been always in vain, " I said musingly. 

"No, they might not, " agreed Zara. "That is just the case of the worldto-day. While there is life in it, there is also hope. And talking ofthe world, let me remind you that you are back in it now, and musttherefore be hampered with tiresome trivialities. Two of these are asfollows; First, here is a letter for you, which has just come;secondly, breakfast will be ready in twenty minutes!"

I looked at her smiling face attentively. She was the very embodimentof vigorous physical health and beauty; it seemed like a dream toremember her in the past night, guarded by that invincible barrier, thework of no mortal hand. I uttered nothing, however, of these thoughts, and responding to her evident gaiety of heart, I smiled also. 

"I will be down punctually at the expiration of the twenty minutes, " Isaid. "I assure you, Zara, I am quite sensible of the claims of earthlyexistence upon me. For instance, I am very hungry, and I shall enjoybreakfast immensely if you will make the coffee. "

Zara, who among her other accomplishments had the secret of makingcoffee to perfection, promised laughingly to make it extra well, andflitted from the room, singing softly as she went a fragment of theNeapolitan Stornello:

 "Fior di mortelle Queste manine tue son tanto belle! Fior di limone Ti voglio far morire di passione Salta! lari--lira. "

The letter Zara had brought me was from Mrs. Everard, announcing thatshe would arrive in Paris that very day, Sunday. 

"By the time you get this note, " so ran her words, "we shall havelanded at the Grand Hotel. Come and see us at once, if you can. TheColonel is anxious to judge for himself how you are looking. If you arereally recovered sufficiently to leave your medical pension, we shallbe delighted to have you with us again. I, in particular, shall beglad, for it is real lonesome when the Colonel is out, and I do hate togo shopping by myself, So take pity upon your affectionate

"AMY. "

Seated at breakfast, I discussed this letter with Heliobas and Zara, and decided that I would call at the Grand Hotel that morning. 

"I wish you would come with me, Zara, " I said wistfully. 

To my surprise, she answered:

"Certainly I will, if you like. But we will attend High Mass at NotreDame first. There will be plenty of time for the call afterwards. "

I gladly agreed to this, and Heliobas added with cheerful cordiality:

"Why not ask your friends to dine here to-morrow? Zara's call will be asufficient opening formality; and you yourself have been long enoughwith us now to know that any of your friends will be welcome here. Wemight have a pleasant little party, especially if you add Mr. And Mrs. Challoner and their daughters to the list. And I will ask Ivan. "

I glanced at Zara when the Prince's name was uttered, but she made nosign of either offence or indifference. 

"You are very hospitable, " I said, addressing Heliobas; "but I reallysee no reason why you should throw open your doors to my friends, unless, indeed, you specially desire to please me. "

"Why, of course I do!" he replied heartily; and Zara looked up andsmiled. 

"Then, " I returned, "I will ask them to come. What am I to say about myrecovery, which I know is little short of miraculous?"

"Say, " replied Heliobas, "that you have been cured by electricity. There is nothing surprising in such a statement nowadays. But saynothing of the HUMAN electric force employed upon you--no one wouldbelieve you, and the effort to persuade unpersuadable people is alwaysa waste of time. "

An hour after this conversation Zara and I were in the cathedral ofNotre Dame. I attended the service with very different feelings tothose I had hitherto experienced during the same ceremony. Formerly mymind had been distracted by harassing doubts and perplexingcontradictions; now everything had a meaning for me--high, and solemn, and sweet. As the incense rose, I thought of those rays of connectinglight I had seen, on which prayers travel exactly as sound travelsthrough the telephone. As the grand organ pealed sonorously through thefragrant air, I remembered the ever youthful and gracious Spirits ofMusic, one of whom, Aeon, had promised to be my friend. Just to try thestrength of my own electric force, I whispered the name and looked up. There, on a wide slanting ray of sunlight that fell directly across thealtar was the angelic face I well remembered!--the delicate handsholding the semblance of a harp in air! It was but for an instant I sawit--one brief breathing-space in which its smile mingled with thesunbeams and then it vanished. But I knew I was not forgotten, and thedeep satisfaction of my soul poured itself in unspoken praise on theflood of the "Sanctus! Sanctus!" that just then rolled triumphantlythrough the aisles of Notre Dame. Zara was absorbed in silent prayerthroughout the Mass; but at its conclusion, when we came out of thecathedral, she was unusually gay and elate. She conversed vivaciouslywith me concerning the social merits and accomplishments of the peoplewe were going to visit; while the brisk walk through the frosty airbrightened her eyes and cheeks into warmer lustre, so that on ourarrival at the Grand Hotel she looked to my fancy even lovelier thanusual. 

Mrs. Everard did not keep us waiting long in the private salon to whichwe were shown. She fluttered down, arrayed in a wonderful "art" gown ofterra-cotta and pale blue hues cunningly intermixed, and proceeded tohug me with demonstrative fervour. Then she held me a little distanceoff, and examined me attentively. 

"Do you know, " she said, "you are simply in lovely condition! I neverwould have believed it. You are actually as plump and pink as a peach. And you are the same creature that wailed and trembled, and hadpalpitations and headaches and stupors! Your doctor must be a perfectmagician. I think I must consult him, for I am sure I don't look halfas well as you do. "

And indeed she did not. I thought she had a tired, dragged appearance, but I would not say so. I knew her well, and I was perfectly aware thatthough she was fascinating and elegant in every way, her life was toomuch engrossed in trifles ever to yield her healthy satisfaction. 

After responding warmly to her affectionate greeting, I said:

"Amy, you must allow me to introduce the sister of my doctor to you. Madame Zara Casimir--Mrs. Everard. "

Zara, who had moved aside a little way out of delicacy, to avoidintruding on our meeting, now turned, and with her own radiant smileand exquisite grace, stretched out her little well-gloved hand. 

"I am delighted to know you!" she said, in those sweet penetratingaccents of hers which were like music. "YOUR friend, " here indicatingme by a slight yet tender gesture, "has also become mine; but I do notthink we shall be jealous, shall we?"

Mrs. Everard made some attempt at a suitable reply, but she was soutterly lost in admiration of Zara's beauty, that her habitualself-possession almost deserted her. Zara, however, had the mostperfect tact, and with it the ability of making herself at homeanywhere, and we were soon all three talking cheerfully and withoutconstraint. When the Colonel made his appearance, which he did veryshortly, he too was "taken off his feet, " as the saying is, by Zara'sloveliness, and the same effect was produced on the Challoners, whosoon afterwards joined us in a body. Mrs. Challoner, in particular, seemed incapable of moving her eyes from the contemplation of mydarling's sweet face, and I glowed with pride and pleasure as I notedhow greatly she was admired. Miss Effie Challoner alone, who was, by acertain class of young men, considered "doocid pretty, with go in her, "opposed her stock of physical charms to those of Zara, with a certainair of feminine opposition; but she was only able to keep this barrierup for a little time. Zara's winning power of attraction was too muchfor her, and she, like all present, fell a willing captive to theenticing gentleness, the intellectual superiority, and the sympatheticinfluence exercised by the evenly balanced temperament and character ofthe beautiful woman I loved so well. 

After some desultory and pleasant chat, Zara, in the name of herbrother and herself, invited Colonel and Mrs. Everard and the Challonerfamily to dine at the Hotel Mars next day--an invitation which wasaccepted by all with eagerness. I perceived at once that every one ofthem was anxious to know more of Zara and her surroundings--a curiositywhich I could not very well condemn. Mrs. Everard then wanted me toremain with her for the rest of the afternoon; but an instinctivefeeling came upon me, that soon perhaps I should have to part fromHeliobas and Zara, and all the wonders and delights of their household, in order to resume my own working life--therefore I determined I woulddrain my present cup of pleasure to the last drop. So I refused Amy'srequest, pleading as an excuse that I was still under my doctor'sauthority, and could not indulge in such an excitement as an afternoonin her society without his permission. Zara bore me out in thisassertion, and added for me to Mrs. Everard:

"Indeed, I think it will be better for her to remain perfectly quietwith us for a day or two longer; then she will be thoroughly cured, andfree to do as she likes. "

"Well!" said Mrs. Challoner; "I must say she doesn't look as ifanything were the matter with her. In fact, I never saw two more happy, healthy-looking girls than you both. What secret do you possess to makeyourselves look so bright?"

"No secret at all, " replied Zara, laughing; "we simply follow the exactlaws of health, and they suffice. "

Colonel Everard, who had been examining me critically and asking me afew questions, here turned to Zara and said:

"Do you really mean to say, Madame Casimir, that your brother curedthis girl by electricity?"

"Purely so!" she answered earnestly. 

"Then it's the most wonderful recovery _I_ ever saw. Why, at Cannes, she was hollow-eyed, pale, and thin as a willow-wand; now shelooks--well, she knows how she is herself--but if she feels as spry asshe looks, she's in first-rate training!"

I laughed. 

"I DO feel spry, Colonel, " I said. "Life seems to me like summersunshine. "

"Brava!" exclaimed Mr. Challoner. He was a staid, rather slowKentuckian who seldom spoke; and when he did, seemed to find it ratheran exertion. "If there's one class of folk I detest more than another, it is those all-possessed people who find life unsuited to theirfancies. Nobody asked them to come into it--nobody would miss them ifthey went out of it. Being in it, it's barely civil to grumble at theDeity who sent them along here. I never do it myself if I can help it. "

We laughed, and Mrs. Challoner's eyes twinkled. 

"In England, dear, for instance, " she said, with a mischievous glanceat her spouse--"in England you never grumbled, did you?"

Mr. Challoner looked volumes--his visage reddened, and he clenched hisbroad fist with ominous vigour. 

"Why, by the Lord!" he said, with even more than his usual deliberateutterance, "in England the liveliest flea that ever gave a triumphaljump in air would find his spirits inclined to droop! I tell you, ma'am, " he continued, addressing himself to Zara, whose merry laughrang out like a peal of little golden bells at this last remark--"Itell you that when I walked in the streets of London I used to feel asif I were one of a band of criminals. Every person I met looked at meas if the universe were about to be destroyed next minute, and they hadto build another up right away without God to help 'em!"

"Well, I believe I agree with you, " said Colonel Everard. "The Englishtake life too seriously. In their craze for business they manage to doaway with pleasure altogether. They seem afraid to laugh, and they evenapproach the semblance of a smile with due caution. "

"I'm free to confess, " added his wife, "that I'm not easily chilledthrough. But an English 'at home' acts upon me like a patentrefrigerator--I get regularly frozen to the bone!"

"Dear me!" laughed Zara; "you give very bad accounts of Shakespeare'sland! It must be very sad!"

"I believe it wasn't always so, " pursued Colonel Everard; "there arelegends which speak of it as Merrie England. I dare say it might havebeen merry once, before it was governed by shopkeepers; but now, youmust get away from it if you want to enjoy life. At least such is myopinion. But have you never been in England, Madame Casimir? You speakEnglish perfectly. "

"Oh, I am a fairly good linguist, " replied Zara, "thanks to my brother. But I have never crossed the Channel. "

The Misses Challoner looked politely surprised; their father's shrewdface wore an expression of grim contentment. 

"Don't cross it, ma'am, " he said emphatically, "unless you have aspecial desire to be miserable. If you want to know how Christians loveone another and how to be made limply and uselessly wretched, spend aSunday in London. "

"I think I will not try the experiment, Mr. Challoner, " returned Zaragaily. "Life is short, and I prefer to enjoy it. "

"Say, " interrupted Mrs. Challoner, turning to me at this juncture, "nowyou are feeling so well, would it be asking you too much to play us apiece of your own improvising?"

I glanced at the grand piano, which occupied a corner of the salonwhere we sat, and hesitated. But at a slight nod from Zara, I rose, drew off my gloves, and seated myself at the instrument. Passing myhands lightly over the keys, I wandered through a few running passages;and as I did so, murmured a brief petition to my aerial friend Aeon. Scarcely had I done this, when a flood of music seemed to rush to mybrain and thence to my fingers, and I played, hardly knowing what Iplayed, but merely absorbed in trying to give utterance to the soundswhich were falling softly upon my inner sense of hearing like drops ofsummer rain on a thirsty soil. I was just aware that I was threadingthe labyrinth of a minor key, and that the result was a network ofdelicate and tender melody reminding me of Heinrich Heine's words:

"Lady, did you not hear the nightingale sing? A beautiful silkenvoice--a web of happy notes--and my soul was taken in its meshes, andstrangled and tortured thereby. "

A few minutes, and the inner voice that conversed with me so sweetly, died away into silence, and at the same time my fingers found their wayto the closing chord. As one awaking from a dream, I looked up. Thelittle group of friendly listeners were rapt in the deepest attention;and when I ceased, a murmur of admiration broke from them all, whileZara's eyes glistened with sympathetic tears. 

"How can you do it?" asked Mrs. Challoner in good-natured amazement. "It seems to me impossible to compose like that while seated at thepiano, and without taking previous thought!"

"It is not MY doing, " I began; "it seems to come to me from--"

But I was checked by a look from Zara, that gently warned me not tohastily betray the secret of my spiritual communion with the unseensources of harmony. So I smiled and said no more. Inwardly I was fullof a great rejoicing, for I knew that however well I had played in pastdays, it was nothing compared to the vigour and ease which were nowgiven to me--a sort of unlocking of the storehouse of music, withfreedom to take my choice of all its vast treasures. 

"Well, it's what WE call inspiration, " said Mr. Challoner, giving myhand a friendly grasp; "and wherever it comes from, it must be a greathappiness to yourself as well as to others. "

"It is, " I answered earnestly. "I believe few are so perfectly happy inmusic as I am. "

Mrs. Everard looked thoughtful. 

"No amount of practice could make ME play like that, " she said; "yet Ihave had two or three masters who were supposed to be first-rate. Oneof them was a German, who used to clutch his hair like a walkingtragedian whenever I played a wrong note. I believe he got up hisreputation entirely by that clutch, for he often played wrong noteshimself without minding it. But just because he worked himself into asort of frenzy when others went wrong, everybody praised him, and saidhe had such an ear and was so sensitive that he must be a greatmusician. He worried me nearly to death over Bach's 'Well-temperedKlavier'--all to no purpose, for I can't play a note of it now, andshouldn't care to if I could. I consider Bach a dreadful old bore, though I know it is heresy to say so. Even Beethoven is occasionallyprosy, only no one will be courageous enough to admit it. People wouldrather go to sleep over classical music than confess they don't likeit. "

"Schubert would have been a grander master than Beethoven, if he hadonly lived long enough, " said Zara; "but I dare say very few will agreewith me in such an assertion. Unfortunately most of my opinions differfrom those of everyone else. "

"You should say FORTUNATELY, madame, " said Colonel Everard, bowinggallantly; "as the circumstance has the happy result of making youperfectly original as well as perfectly charming. "

Zara received this compliment with her usual sweet equanimity, and werose to take our leave. As we were passing out, Amy Everard drew meback and crammed into the pocket of my cloak a newspaper. 

"Read it when you are alone, " she whispered; "and you will see whatRaffaello Cellini has done with the sketch he made of you. "

We parted from these pleasant Americans with cordial expressions ofgoodwill, Zara reminding them of their engagement to visit her at herown home next day, and fixing the dinner-hour for half-past seven. 

On our return to the Hotel Mars, we found Heliobas in the drawing-room, deep in converse with a Catholic priest--a fine-looking man ofvenerable and noble features. Zara addressed him as "Father Paul, " andbent humbly before him to receive his blessing, which he gave her withalmost parental tenderness. He seemed, from his familiar manner withthem, to be a very old friend of the family. 

On my being introduced to him, he greeted me with gentle courtesy, andgave me also his simple unaffected benediction. We all partook of alight luncheon to-gether, after which repast Heliobas and Father Paulwithdrew together. Zara looked after their retreating figures with asort of meditative pathos in her large eyes; and then she told me shehad something to finish in her studio--would I excuse her for about anhour? I readily consented, for I myself was desirous of passing alittle time in solitude, in order to read the manuscripts Heliobas hadgiven me. "For, " thought I, "if there is anything in them not quiteclear to me, he will explain it, and I had better take advantage of hisinstruction while I can. "

As Zara and I went upstairs together, we were followed by Leo--a mostunusual circumstance, as that faithful animal was generally inattendance on his master. Now, however, he seemed to have somethingoppressive on his mind, for he kept close to Zara, and his big browneyes, whenever he raised them to her face, were full of intensemelancholy. His tail drooped in a forlorn way, and all the vivacity ofhis nature seemed to have gone out of him. 

"Leo does not seem well, " I said, patting the dog's beautiful silkycoat, an attention to which he responded by a heavy sigh and a wistfulgaze approaching to tears. Zara looked at him. 

"Poor Leo!" she murmured caressingly. "Perhaps he feels lonely. Do youwant to come with your mistress to-day, old boy? So you shall. Comealong--cheer up, Leo!"

And, nodding to me, she passed into her studio, the dog following her. I turned into my own apartment, and then bethought myself of thenewspaper Mrs. Everard had thrust into my pocket. It was a Romanjournal, and the passage marked for my perusal ran as follows:

"The picture of the Improvisatrice, painted by our countryman SignorRaffaello Cellini, has been purchased by Prince N----for the sum offorty thousand francs. The Prince generously permits it to remain onview for a few days longer, so that those who have not yet enjoyed itsattraction, have still time to behold one of the most wonderfulpictures of the age. The colouring yet remains a marvel to bothstudents and connoisseurs, and the life-like appearance of the girl'sfigure, robed in its clinging white draperies ornamented with lilies ofthe valley, is so strong, that one imagines she will step out of thecanvas and confront the bystanders. Signor Cellini must now beundoubtedly acknowledged as one of the greatest geniuses of moderntimes. "

I could see no reason, as I perused this, to be sure that _I_ hadserved as the model for this successful work of art, unless the whitedress and the lilies of the valley, which I had certainly worn atCannes, were sufficient authority for forming such a conclusion. StillI felt quite a curiosity about the picture--the more so as I couldforesee no possible chance of my ever beholding it. I certainly shouldnot go to Rome on purpose, and in a few days it would be in thepossession of Prince N----, a personage whom in all probability Ishould never know. I put the newspaper carefully by, and then turned mymind to the consideration of quite another subject--namely, thecontents of my parchment documents. The first one I opened was thatcontaining the private instructions of Heliobas to myself for thepreservation of my own health, and the cultivation of the electricforce within me. These were so exceedingly simple, and yet so wonderfulin their simplicity, that I was surprised. They were based upon theplainest and most reasonable common-sense arguments--easy enough for achild to understand. Having promised never to make them public, it isimpossible for me to give the slightest hint of their purport; but Imay say at once, without trespassing the bounds of my pledged word, that if these few concise instructions were known and practised byeveryone, doctors would be entirely thrown out of employment, andchemists' shops would no longer cumber the streets. Illness would bevery difficult of attainment--though in the event of its occurring eachindividual would know how to treat him or herself--and life could beprolonged easily and comfortably to more than a hundred years, barring, of course, accidents by sea, rail and road, or by deeds of violence. But it will take many generations before the world is UNIVERSALLYself-restrained enough to follow such plain maxims as those laid downfor me in the writing of my benefactor, Heliobas--even if it be everself-restrained at all, which, judging from the present state ofsociety, is much to be doubted. Therefore, no more of the subject, onwhich, indeed, I am forbidden to speak. 

The other document, called "The Electric Principle of Christianity, " Ifound so curious and original, suggesting so many new theoriesconcerning that religion which has civilized a great portion ofhumanity, that, as I am not restrained by any promise on this point, Ihave resolved to give it here in full. My readers must not be rashenough to jump to the conclusion that I set it forward as anexplanation or confession of my own faith; my creed has nothing to dowith anyone save myself. I simply copy the manuscript I possess, as thetheory of a deeply read and widely intelligent man, such as Heliobasundoubtedly WAS and IS; a man, too, in whose veins runs the blood ofthe Chaldean kings--earnest and thoughtful Orientals, who were farwiser in their generation perhaps than we, with all our boastedprogress, are in ours. The coincidences which have to do withelectrical science will, I believe, be generally admitted to be curiousif not convincing. To me, of course, they are only fresh proofs of WHAT_I_ KNOW, because _I_ HAVE SEEN THE GREAT ELECTRIC CIRCLE, and know itspower (guided as it is by the Central Intelligence within) to becapable of anything, from the sending down of a minute spark ofinstinct into the heart of a flower, to the perpetual manufacture andre-absorption of solar systems by the million million. And it is acircle that ever widens without end. What more glorious manifestationcan there be of the Creator's splendour and wisdom! But as to how thisworld of ours span round in its own light littleness farther andfarther from the Radiant Ring, till its very Sun began to bere-absorbed, and till its Moon disappeared and became a merepicture--till it became of itself like a small blot on the fair scrollof the Universe, while its inhabitants grew to resent all heavenlyattraction; and how it was yet thought worth God's patience and tenderconsideration, just for the sake of a few human souls upon it who stillremembered and loved Him, to give it one more chance before it shouldbe drawn back into the Central Circle like a spark within a fire--allthis is sufficiently set forth in the words of Heliobas, quoted in thenext chapter. 

CHAPTER XIV. 

THE ELECTRIC CREED. 

The "Electric Principle of Christianity" opened as follows:

"From all Eternity God, or the SUPREME SPIRIT OF LIGHT, existed, and toall Eternity He will continue to exist. This is plainly stated in theNew Testament thus: 'God is a SPIRIT, and they that worship Him mustworship Him IN SPIRIT and in truth. '

"He is a Shape of pure Electric Radiance. Those who may be inclined todoubt this may search the Scriptures on which they pin their faith, andthey will find that all the visions and appearances of the Deity therechronicled were electric in character. 

"As a poet forms poems, or a musician melodies, so God formed by aThought the Vast Central Sphere in which He dwells, and peopled it withthe pure creations of His glorious fancy. And why? Because, being pureLight, He is also pure Love; the power or capacity of Love implies thenecessity of Loving; the necessity of loving points to the existence ofthings to be loved--hence the secret of creation. From the ever-workingIntelligence of this Divine Love proceeded the Electric Circle of theUniverse, from whence are born all worlds. 

"This truth vaguely dawned upon the ancient poets of Scripture whenthey wrote: 'Darkness was upon the face of the deep. And the Spirit ofGod moved upon the face of the waters. And God said, Let there belight. And there was light. '

"These words apply SOLELY to the creation or production of OUR OWNEARTH, and in them we read nothing but a simple manifestation ofelectricity, consisting in a HEATING PASSAGE OF RAYS from the CentralCircle to the planet newly propelled forth from it, which caused thatplanet to produce and multiply the wonders of the animal, vegetable, and mineral kingdoms which we call Nature. 

"Let us now turn again to the poet-prophets of Scripture: 'And Godsaid, Let us make man in our image. ' The word 'OUR' here implies aninstinctive idea that God was never alone. This idea is correct. Lovecannot exist in a chaos; and God by the sheer necessity of His Beinghas for ever been surrounded by radiant and immortal Spirits emanatingfrom His own creative glory--beings in whom all beauty and all purityare found. In the IMAGES, therefore (only the IMAGES), of theseChildren of Light and of Himself, He made Man--that is, He caused theEarth to be inhabited and DOMINATED by beings composed of Earth'scomponent parts, animal, vegetable, and mineral, giving them theirsuperiority by placing within them His 'LIKENESS' in the form of anELECTRIC FLAME or GERM of spiritual existence combined with itscompanion working-force of WILL-POWER. 

"Like all flames, this electric spark can either be fanned into a fireor it can be allowed to escape in air--IT CAN NEVER BE DESTROYED. Itcan be fostered and educated till it becomes a living Spiritual Form ofabsolute beauty--an immortal creature of thought, memory, emotion, andworking intelligence. If, on the contrary, he is neglected orforgotten, and its companion Will is drawn by the weight of Earth towork for earthly aims alone, then it escapes and seeks other chances ofdevelopment in OTHER FORMS on OTHER PLANETS, while the body it leaves, SUPPORTED ONLY BY PHYSICAL SUSTENANCE DRAWN FROM THE EARTH ON WHICH ITDWELLS, becomes a mere lump of clay ANIMATED BY MERE ANIMAL LIFESOLELY, full of inward ignorance and corruption and outward incapacity. Of such material are the majority of men composed BY THEIR OWNFREE-WILL AND CHOICE, because they habitually deaden the voice ofconscience and refuse to believe in the existence of a spiritualelement within and around them. 

"To resume: the Earth is one of the smallest of planets; and not onlythis, but, from its position in the Universe, receives a less amount ofdirect influence from the Electric Circle than other worlds morehappily situated. Were men wise enough to accept this fact, they wouldfoster to the utmost the germs of electric sympathy within themselves, in order to form a direct communication, or system of attraction, between this planet and the ever-widening Ring, so that some spiritualbenefit might accrue to them thereby. But as the ages roll on, theirchances of doing this diminish. The time is swiftly approaching whenthe invincible Law of Absorption shall extinguish Earth as easily as weblow out the flame of a candle. True, it may be again reproduced, andagain thrown out on space; but then it will be in a new and granderform, and will doubtless have more godlike inhabitants. 

"In the meantime--during those brief cycles of centuries which are as abreath in the workings of the Infinite, and which must yet elapsebefore this world, as we know it, comes to an end--God has taken pityon the few, very few souls dwelling here, pent up in mortal clay, whohave blindly tried to reach Him, like plants straining up to the light, and has established a broad stream of sympathetic electriccommunication with Himself, which all who care to do so may availthemselves of. 

"Here it may be asked: Why should God take pity? Because that SupremeShape of Light finds a portion of Himself in all pure souls that loveHim, and HE CANNOT DESPISE HIMSELF. Also because He is capable of allthe highest emotions known to man, in a far larger and grander degree, besides possessing other sentiments and desires unimaginable to thehuman mind. It is enough to say that all the attributes that accompanyperfect goodness He enjoys; therefore He can feel compassion, tenderness, forgiveness, patience--all or any of the emotions thatproduce pure, unselfish pleasure. 

"Granting Him, therefore, these attributes (and it is both blasphemousand unreasonable to DENY HIM THOSE VIRTUES WHICH DISTINGUISH THE BESTOF MEN), it is easily understood how He, the All-Fair Beneficent Rulerof the Central Sphere, perceiving the long distance to which the Earthwas propelled, like a ball flung too far out, from the glory of HisElectric Ring, saw also that the creatures He had made in His imagewere in danger of crushing that image completely out, and with it allremembrance of Him, in the fatal attention they gave to their merelyearthly surroundings, lacking, as they did, and not possessingsufficient energy to seek, electric attraction. In brief, this Earthand God's World were like America and Europe before the Atlantic Cablewas laid. Now the messages of goodwill flash under the waves, heedlessof the storms. So also God's Cable is laid between us and His Heaven inthe person of Christ. 

"For ages (always remembering that our ages are with God a moment) theidea of WORSHIP was in the mind of man. With this idea came also thesentiment of PROPITIATION. The untamed savage has from time immemorialinstinctively felt the necessity of looking up to a Being greater thanHimself, and also of seeking a reconciliation with that Being for somefault or loss in himself which he is aware of, yet cannot explain. Thisdouble instinct--worship and propitiation--is the key-note of all thecreeds of the world, and may be called God's first thought of the cableto be hereafter laid--a lightning-thought which He instilled into thehuman race to prepare it, as one might test a telegraph-wire from houseto house, before stretching it across a continent. 

"All religions, as known to us, are mere types of Christianity. It is anotable fact that some of the oldest and most learned races in theworld, such as the Armenians and Chaldeans, were the first to beconvinced of the truth of Christ's visitation. Buddhism, of which thereare so many million followers, is itself a type of Christ's teaching;only it lacks the supernatural element. Buddha died a hermit at the ageof eighty, as any wise and ascetic man might do to-day. The death andresurrection of Christ were widely different. Anyone can be a Buddhaagain; anyone can NOT be a Christ. That there are stated to be morefollowers of Buddhism than of Christianity is no proof of any efficacyin the former or lack of power in the latter. Buddhists help to swellthat very large class of persons who prefer a flattering picture to aplain original; or who, sheep-like by nature, finding themselves alltogether in one meadow, are too lazy, as well as too indifferent, toseek pastures fresher and fairer. 

"Through the divine influence of an Electric Thought, then, the worldunconsciously grew to expect SOMETHING--they knew not what. The oldcreeds of the world, like sunflowers, turned towards that unknown Sun;the poets, prophets, seers, all spoke of some approaching consolationand glory; and to this day the fated Jews expect it, unwilling toreceive as their Messiah the Divine Martyr they slew, though their ownScriptures testify to His identity. 

"Christ came, born of a Virgin; that is, a radiant angel from God'sSphere was in the first place sent down to Earth to wear the form ofMary of Bethlehem, in Judea. Within that vessel of absolute purity Godplaced an Emanation of His own radiance--no germ or small flame such asis given to us in our bodies to cultivate and foster, but a completeimmortal Spirit, a portion of God Himself, wise, sinless, and strong. This Spirit, pent up in clay, was born as a helpless babe, grew up asman--as man taught, comforted, was slain and buried; but as pure Spiritrose again and returned in peace to Heaven, His mission done. 

"It was necessary, in order to establish what has been called anelectric communication between God's Sphere and this Earth, that anactual immortal, untainted Spirit in the person of Christ should walkthis world, sharing with men sufferings, difficulties, danger, anddeath. Why? In order that we might first completely confide in andtrust Him, afterwards realizing His spiritual strength and glory by Hisresurrection. And here may be noted the main difference between theElectric Theory of Christianity and other theories. CHRIST DID NOT DIEBECAUSE GOD NEEDED A SACRIFICE. The idea of sacrifice is a relic ofheathen barbarism; God is too infinitely loving to desire the sacrificeof the smallest flower. He is too patient to be ever wrathful; andbarbaric ignorance confronts us again in the notion that He should needto be appeased. And the fancy that He should desire Himself or part ofHimself to become a sacrifice to Himself has arisen out of the absurdand conflicting opinions of erring humanity, wherein right and wrongare so jumbled together that it is difficult to distinguish one fromthe other. Christ's death was not a sacrifice; it was simply a means ofconfidence and communion with the Creator. A sinless Spirit suffered toshow us how to suffer; lived on earth to show us how to live; prayed toshow us how to pray; died to show us how to die; rose again to impressstrongly upon us that there was in truth a life beyond this one, forwhich He strove to prepare our souls. Finally, by His re-ascension intoHeaven He established that much-needed electric communication betweenus and the Central Sphere. 

"It can be proved from the statements of the New Testament that inChrist was an Embodied Electric Spirit. From first to last His careerwas attended by ELECTRIC PHENOMENA, of which eight examples are herequoted; and earnest students of the matter can find many others if theychoose to examine for themselves. 

"1. The appearance of the Star and the Vision of Angels on the night ofHis birth. The Chaldeans saw His 'star in the east, ' and they came toworship Him. The Chaldeans were always a learned people, andelectricity was an advanced science with them. They at once recognizedthe star to be no new planet, but simply a star-shaped flame flittingthrough space. They knew what this meant. Observe, too, that they hadno doubts upon the point; they came 'to worship him, ' and providedthemselves with gifts to offer to this radiant Guest, the offspring ofpure Light. The vision of the angels appearing to the shepherds wassimply a joyous band of the Singing Children of the Electric Ring, whoout of pure interest and pleasure floated in sight of Earth, drawnthither partly by the already strong attractive influence of theRadiance that was imprisoned there in the form of the Babe of Bethlehem. 

"2. When Christ was baptized by John the Baptist, 'THE HEAVENS OPENED. '

"3. The sympathetic influence of Christ was so powerful that when Heselected His disciples, He had but to speak to them, and at the soundof His voice, though they were engaged in other business, 'THEY LEFTALL AND FOLLOWED HIM. "

"4. Christ's body was charged with electricity. Thus He was easily ableto heal sick and diseased persons by a touch or a look. The woman whocaught at His garment in the crowd was cured of her long-standingailment; and we see that Christ was aware of His own electric force bythe words He used on that occasion: 'WHO TOUCHED ME? FOR I FEEL THATSOME VIRTUE IS GONE OUT OF ME'--which is the exact feeling that aphysical electrician experiences at this day after employing his powerson a subject. The raising of Jairus's daughter, of the widow's son atNain, and of Lazarus, were all accomplished by the same means. 

"5. The walking on the sea was a purely electric effort, AND CAN BEACCOMPLISHED NOW BY ANYONE who has cultivated sufficient inner force. The sea being full of electric particles will support anybodysufficiently and similarly charged--the two currents combining toprocure the necessary equilibrium. Peter, who was able to walk a littleway, lost his power directly his will became vanquished byfear--because the sentiment of fear disperses electricity, and beingpurely HUMAN emotion, does away with spiritual strength for the time. 

"6. The Death of Christ was attended by electric manifestations--by thedarkness over the land during the Crucifixion; the tearing of thetemple veil in twain; and the earthquake which finally ensued. 

"7. The Resurrection was a most powerful display of electric force. Itwill be remembered that the angel who was found sitting at the entranceof the empty sepulchre 'had a countenance like LIGHTNING, ' i. E. , likeelectric flame. It must also be called to mind how the risen Christaddressed Mary Magdalene: 'TOUCH ME NOT, for I am but newly risen!' Whyshould she not have touched Him? Simply because His strength then wasthe strength of concentrated in-rushing currents of electricity; and totouch him at that moment would have been for Magdalene instant death bylightning. This effect of embodied electric force has been shadowedforth in the Greek legends of Apollo, whose glory consumed at a breaththe mortal who dared to look upon him. 

"8. The descent of the Holy Ghost, by which term is meant anever-flowing current of the inspired working Intelligence of theCreator, was purely electric in character: 'Suddenly there came a soundfrom Heaven as of a rushing mighty wind, and it filled all the housewhere they were sitting. And there appeared unto them CLOVEN TONGUESLIKE AS OF FIRE, and sat upon each of them. ' It may here be noted thatthe natural electric flame is DUAL or 'cloven' in shape. 

"Let us now take the Creed as accepted to-day by the Christian Church, and see how thoroughly it harmonizes with the discoveries of spiritualelectricity. 'I believe in one God the Father Almighty, Maker of Heavenand Earth, and of all things VISIBLE AND INVISIBLE. ' This is a briefand simple description of the Creator as He exists--a Supreme Centre ofLight, out of whom MUST spring all life, all love, all wisdom. 

"'And in one Lord Jesus Christ, the only begotten Son of God, born ofthe Father before all ages. ' This means that the only absoluteEmanation of His own PERSONAL Radiance that ever wore such mean garb asour clay was found in Christ--who, as part of God, certainly existed'BEFORE ALL AGES. ' For as the Creed itself says, He was 'God of God, LIGHT OF LIGHT. Then we go on through the circumstances of Christ'sbirth, life, death, and resurrection, and our profession of faithbrings us to 'I believe in the Holy Ghost, the Lord and Giver of Life, who proceedeth from the Father and the Son, ' etc. This, as alreadystated, means that we believe that since Christ ascended into Heaven, our electric communication with the Creator has been established, andan ever-flowing current of divine inspiration is turned beneficially inthe direction of our Earth, 'proceeding from the Father and the Son. 'We admit in the Creed that this inspiration manifested itself beforeChrist came and 'SPAKE BY THE PROPHETS;' but, as before stated, thisonly happened at rare and difficult intervals, while now Christ Himselfspeaks through those who most strongly adhere to His teachings. 

"It may here be mentioned that few seem to grasp the fact of theSPECIAL MESSAGE TO WOMEN intended to be conveyed in the person of theVirgin Mary. She was actually one of the radiant Spirits of the CentralSphere, imprisoned by God's will in woman's form. After the birth ofChrist, she was still kept on earth, to follow His career to the end. There was a secret understanding between Himself and her. As forinstance, when she found Him among the doctors of the law, she for onemoment suffered her humanity to get the better of her in anxiousinquiries; and His reply, 'Why sought ye Me? Wist ye not that I must beabout My Father's business?' was a sort of reminder to her, which sheat once accepted. Again, at the marriage feast in Cana of Galilee, whenChrist turned the water into wine, He said to His mother, 'WOMAN, whathave I to do with thee?' which meant simply: What have I to do withthee as WOMAN merely?--which was another reminder to her of herspiritual origin, causing her at once to address the servants who stoodby as follows: 'Whatsoever He saith unto you, do it. ' And why, it maybe asked, if Mary was really an imprisoned immortal Spirit, sinless andjoyous, should she be forced to suffer all the weaknesses, sorrows, andanxieties of any ordinary woman and mother? SIMPLY AS AN EXAMPLE TOWOMEN who are the mothers of the human race; and who, being thus laidunder a heavy responsibility, need sympathetic guidance. Mary's lifeteaches women that the virtues they need are--obedience, purity, meekness, patience, long-suffering, modesty, self-denial, andendurance. She loved to hold a secondary position; she placed herselfin willing subjection to Joseph--a man of austere and simple life, advanced in years, and weighted with the cares of a family by aprevious marriage--who wedded her by AN INFLUENCE WHICH COMPELLED HIMto become her protector in the eyes of the world. Out of these facts, simple as they are, can be drawn the secret of happiness for women--asecret and a lesson that, if learned by heart, would bring them andthose they love out of storm and bewilderment into peace and safety. 

"FOR THOSE WHO HAVE ONCE BECOME AWARE OF THE EXISTENCE OF THE CENTRALSPHERE AND OF THE ELECTRIC RING SURROUNDING IT, AND WHO ARE ABLE TOREALISE TO THE FULL THE GIGANTIC AS WELL AS MINUTE WORK PERFORMED BYTHE ELECTRIC WAVES AROUND US AND WITHIN US, there can no longer be anydoubt as to all the facts of Christianity, as none of them, VIEWED BYTHE ELECTRIC THEORY, are otherwise than in accordance with theCreator's love and sympathy with even the smallest portion of Hiscreation. 

"Why then, if Christianity be a Divine Truth, are not all peopleChristians? As well ask, if music and poetry are good things, why allmen are not poets and musicians. Art seeks art; in like manner Godseeks God--that is, He seeks portions of His own essence among Hiscreatures. Christ Himself said, 'Many are called, but few are chosen;'and it stands to reason that very few souls will succeed in becomingpure enough to enter the Central Sphere without hindrance. Many, onleaving Earth, will be detained in the Purgatory of Air, wherethousands of spirits work for ages, watching over others, helping andwarning others, and in this unselfish labour succeed in raisingthemselves, little by little, higher and ever higher, till they at lastreach the longed-for goal. It must also be remembered that not onlyfrom Earth, but from ALL WORLDS, released souls seek to attain finalhappiness in the Central Sphere where God is; so that, however greatthe number of those that are permitted to proceed thither from thislittle planet, they can only form, as it were, one drop in a mightyocean. 

"It has been asked whether the Electric Theory of Christianity includesthe doctrine of Hell, or a place of perpetual punishment. EternalPunishment is merely a form of speech for what is really EternalRetrogression. For as there is a Forward, so there must be a Backward. The electric germ of the Soul--delicate, fiery, and imperishable as itis--can be forced by its companion Will to take refuge in a lower formof material existence, dependent on the body it first inhabits. Forinstance, a man who is obstinate in pursuing ACTIVE EVIL can soretrograde the progress of any spiritual life within him, that it shalllack the power to escape, as it might do, from merely lymphatic andlistless temperaments, to seek some other chance of development, butshall sink into the form of quadrupeds, birds, and other creaturesdominated by purely physical needs. But there is one thing it can neverescape from--MEMORY. And in that faculty is constituted Hell. So thatif a man, by choice, forces his soul DOWNWARD to inhabit hereafter thebodies of dogs, horses, and other like animals, he should know that hedoes so at the cost of everything except Remembrance. EternalRetrogression means that the hopelessly tainted electric germ recoilsfurther and further from the Pure Centre whence it sprang, ALWAYSBEARING WITHIN ITSELF the knowledge of WHAT IT WAS ONCE and WHAT ITMIGHT HAVE BEEN. There is a pathetic meaning in the eyes of a dog or aseal; in the melancholy, patient gaze of the oxen toiling at theplough; there is an unuttered warning in the silent faces of flowers;there is more tenderness of regret in the voice of the nightingale thanlove; and in the wild upward soaring of the lark, with its throat fullof passionate, shouting prayer, there is shadowed forth the yearninghope that dies away in despair as the bird sinks to earth again, hisinstincts not half satisfied. There is no greater torture than to becompelled to remember, in suffering, joys and glorious opportunitiesgone for ever. 

"Regarding the Electric Theory of Religion, it is curious to observehow the truth of it has again and again been dimly shadowed forth inthe prophecies of Art, Science, and Poesy. The old painters whodepicted a halo of light round the head of their Virgins and Saints didso out of a correct impulse which they did not hesitate to obey. [Footnote: An impulse which led them vaguely to foresee, though, not toexplain, the electric principle of spiritual life. ] The astronomerswho, after years of profound study, have been enabled to measure theflames of the burning sun, and to find out that these are from two tofour thousand miles high, are nearly arrived at the conclusion that itis a world in a state of conflagration, in which they will be perfectlyright. Those who hold that this Earth of ours was once self-luminousare also right; for it was indeed so when first projected from theElectric Ring. The compilers or inventors of the 'Arabian Nights' alsohit upon a truth when they described human beings as forced throughevil influences to take the forms of lower animals--a truth justexplained in the Law of Retrogression. All art, all prophecy, allpoesy, should therefore be accepted eagerly and studied earnestly, forin them we find ELECTRIC INSPIRATION out of which we are able to drawlessons for our guidance hereafter. The great point that scientists andartists have hitherto failed to discover, is the existence of theCentral Sphere and its Surrounding Electric Circle. Once realize thesetwo great facts, and all the wonders and mysteries of the Universe areperfectly easy of comprehension. 

"In conclusion, I offer no opinion as to which is Christ's Church, orthe Fountain-head of spirituality in the world. In all Churches errorshave intruded through unworthy and hypocritical members. In a crowdedcongregation of worshippers there may perhaps be only one or two whoare free from self-interest and personal vanity. In Sectarianism, forinstance, there is no shred of Christianity. Lovers of God andfollowers of Christ must, in the first place, have perfect Unity; andthe bond uniting them must be an electric one of love and faith. Notrue Christian should be able to hate, despise, or envy the other. WereI called upon to select among the churches, I should choose that whichhas most electricity working within it, and which is able to believe ina positive electrical communication between Christ and herself takingplace daily on her altars--a Church which holds, as it were, the otherend of the telegraphic ray between Earth and the Central Sphere, andwhich is, therefore, able to exist among the storms of modern opinions, affording refuge and consolation to the few determined travellers whoare bound onward and upward. I shall not name the Church I mean, because it is the duty of everyone to examine and find it out forhimself or herself. And even though this Church instinctively works inthe right direction, it is full of errors introduced by ignorant andunworthy members--errors which must be carefully examined and castaside by degrees. But, as I said before, it is the only Church whichhas Principles of Electricity within it, and is therefore destined tolive, because electricity is life. 

"Now I beseech the reader of this manuscript to which I, Heliobas, append my hand and seal, to remember and realize earnestly thefollowing invincible facts: first that God and His Christ EXIST;secondly, that while the little paltry affairs of our temporal stateare being built up as crazily as a child's house of cards, the hugeCentral Sphere revolves, and the Electric Ring, strong andindestructible, is ever at its work of production and re-absorption;thirdly, that every thought and word of EVERY HABITANT ON EVERY PLANETis reflected in lightning language before the Creator's eyes as easilyas we receive telegrams; fourthly, that this world is THE ONLY SPOT INTHE UNIVERSE where His existence is actually questioned and doubted. And the general spread of modern positivism, materialism and atheism isone of the most terrific and meaning signs of the times. The work ofseparating the wheat from the chaff is beginning. Those who love andbelieve in God and Spiritual Beauty are about to be placed on one side;the millions who worship Self are drawing together in vast opposingranks on the other; and the moment approaches which is prophesied to be'as the lightning that lighteneth out of the one part under heaven, andshineth even to the other part. ' In other words, the fiery whirlpool ofthe Ring is nearly ready to absorb our planet in its vortex; and out ofall who dwell upon its surface, how many shall reach the gloriousCentral World of God? Of two men working in the same field, shall itnot be as Christ foretold--'the one shall be taken, and the other left'?

"Friend, or Pupil, Reader! Whoever thou art, take heed and foster thineown soul! For know that nothing can hinder the Immortal Germ within usfrom taking the form imposed upon it by our WILLS. Through Love andFaith, it can become an Angel, and perform wonders even while in itshabitation of clay; through indifference and apathy, it can desert usaltogether and for ever; through mockery and blasphemous disbelief, itcan sink into even a lower form than that of snake or toad. In our ownunfettered hand lies our eternal destiny. Wonderful and terribleresponsibility! Who shall dare to say we have no need of prayer?"

This document was signed "Casimir Heliobas, " and bore a seal on whichthe impression seemed to consist of two Arabic or Sanskrit words, whichI could not understand. I put it carefully away with its companion MS. Under lock and key, and while I was yet pausing earnestly on itscontents, Zara came into my room. She had finished her task in thestudio, she said, and she now proposed a drive in the Bois as anagreeable way of passing the rest of the afternoon. 

"I want to be as long as possible in your company, " she added, with acaressing sweetness in her manner; "for now your friends have come toParis, I expect you will soon be leaving us, so I must have as much ofyou as I can. "

My heart sank at the thought of parting from her, and I lookedwistfully at her lovely face. Leo had followed her in from the studio, and seemed still very melancholy. 

"We shall always be good friends, Zara dearest, " I said, "shall we not?Close, fond friends, like sisters?"

"Sisters are not always fond of each other, " remarked Zara, half gaily. "And you know 'there is a friend that sticketh closer than a brother'!"

"And what friend is that in YOUR case?" I asked, half jestingly, halfcuriously. 

"Death!" she replied with a strange smile, in which there was bothpathos and triumph. 

I started at her unexpected reply, and a kind of foreboding chilled myblood. I endeavoured, however, to speak cheerfully as I said:

"Why, of course, death sticks more closely to us than any friend orrelative. But you look fitter to receive the embraces of life than ofdeath, Zara. "

"They are both one and the same thing, " she answered; "or rather, theone leads to the other. But do not let us begin to philosophize. Put onyour things and come. The carriage is waiting. "

I readily obeyed her, and we enjoyed an exhilarating drive together. The rest of the day passed with us all very pleasantly and ourconversation had principally to do with the progress of art andliterature in many lands, and maintained itself equably on the level ofmundane affairs. Among other things, we spoke of the Spanish violinistSarasate, and I amused Heliobas by quoting to him some of thecriticisms of the London daily papers on this great artist, such as, "He plays pieces which, though adapted to show his wonderful skill, arethe veriest clap-trap;" "He lacks breadth and colour;" "A true type ofthe artist virtuoso, " etc. , etc. 

"Half these people do not know in the least what they mean by 'breadthand colour' or 'virtuosity, '" said Heliobas, with a smile. "They thinkemotion, passion, all true sentiment combined with extraordinaryTECHNIQUE, must be 'clap-trap. ' Now the Continent of Europeacknowledges Pablo de Sarasate as the first violinist living, andLondon would not be London unless it could thrust an obtuse opposingopinion in the face of the Continent. England is the last country inthe world to accept anything new. Its people are tired and blase; likehighly trained circus-horses, they want to trot or gallop always in theold grooves. It will always be so. Sarasate is like a brilliant meteorstreaming across their narrow bit of the heaven of music; they stare, gape, and think it is an unnatural phenomenon--a 'virtuosity' in theway of meteors, which they are afraid to accept lest it set them onfire. What would you? The meteor shines and burns; it is always ameteor!"

So, talking lightly, and gliding from subject to subject, the hourswore away, and we at last separated for the night. 

I shall always be glad to remember how tenderly Zara kissed me andwished me good repose; and I recall now, with mingled pain, wonder, andgratitude, how perfectly calm and contented I felt as, after myprayers, I sank to sleep, unwarned, and therefore happily unconscious, of what awaited me on the morrow. 

CHAPTER XV. 

DEATH BY LIGHTNING. 

The morning of the next day dawned rather gloomily. A yellowish fogobscured the air, and there was a closeness and sultriness in theatmosphere that was strange for that wintry season. I had slept well, and rose with the general sense of ease and refreshment that I alwaysexperienced since I had been under the treatment of Heliobas. Thosewhose unhappy physical condition causes them to awake from uneasyslumber feeling almost more fatigued than when they retired to rest, can scarcely have any idea of the happiness it engenders to openuntired, glad eyes with the morning light; to feel the very air anourishment; to stand with lithe, rested limbs in the bath of cool, pure water, finding that limpid element obediently adding its quota tothe vigour of perfect health; to tingle from head to foot with the warmcurrent of life running briskly through the veins, making the heartmerry, the brain clear, and all the powers of body and mind in activeworking condition. This is indeed most absolute enjoyment. Add to itthe knowledge of the existence of one's own inner Immortal Spirit--thebeautiful germ of Light in the fostering of which no labour is evertaken in vain--the living, wondrous thing that is destined to watch aneternity of worlds bloom and fade to bloom again, like flowers, whileitself, superior to them all, shall become ever more strong andradiant--with these surroundings and prospects, who shall say life isnot worth living?

Dear Life! sweet Moment! gracious Opportunity! brief Journey so wellworth the taking! gentle Exile so well worth enduring!--thy bitterestsorrows are but blessings in disguise; thy sharpest pains are broughtupon us by ourselves, and even then are turned to warnings for ourguidance; while above us, through us, and around us radiates theSupreme Love, unalterably tender!

These thoughts, and others like them, all more or less conducive tocheerfulness, occupied me till I had finished dressing. Melancholy wasnow no part of my nature, otherwise I might have been depressed by theappearance of the weather and the murkiness of the air. But since Ilearned the simple secrets of physical electricity, atmosphericinfluences have had no effect upon the equable poise of mytemperament--a fact for which I cannot be too grateful, seeing how manyof my fellow-creatures permit themselves to be affected by changes inthe wind, intense heat, intense cold, or other things of the likecharacter. 

I went down to breakfast, singing softly on my way, and I found Zaraalready seated at the head of her table, while Heliobas was occupied inreading and sorting a pile of letters that lay beside his plate. Bothgreeted me with their usual warmth and heartiness. 

During the repast, however, the brother and sister were strangelysilent, and once or twice I fancied that Zara's eyes filled with tears, though she smiled again so quickly and radiantly that I felt I wasmistaken. 

A piece of behaviour on the part of Leo, too, filled me with dismay. Hehad been lying quietly at his master's feet for some time, when hesuddenly arose, sat upright, and lifting his nose in air, uttered amost prolonged and desolate howl. Anything more thoroughly heartbrokenand despairing than that cry I have never heard. After he had concludedit, the poor animal seemed ashamed of what he had done, and creepingmeekly along, with drooping head and tail, he kissed his master's hand, then mine, and lastly Zara's. Finally, he went into a distant cornerand lay down again, as if his feelings were altogether too much for him. 

"Is he ill?" I asked pityingly. 

"I think not, " replied Heliobas. "The weather is peculiarto-day--close, and almost thunderous; dogs are very susceptible to suchchanges. "

At that moment the page entered bearing a silver salver, on which lay aletter, which he handed to his master and immediately retired. 

Heliobas opened and read it. 

"Ivan regrets he cannot dine with us to-day, " he said, glancing at hissister; "he is otherwise engaged. He says, however, that he hopes tohave the pleasure of looking in during the latter part of the evening. "

Zara inclined her head gently, and made no other reply. 

A few seconds afterwards we rose from table, and Zara, linking her armthrough mine, said:

"I want to have a talk with you while we can be alone. Come to my room. "

We went upstairs together, followed by the wise yet doleful Leo, whoseemed determined not to let his mistress out of his sight. When wearrived at our destination, Zara pushed me gently into an easy-chair, and seated herself in another one opposite. 

"I am going to ask a favour of you, " she began; "because I know youwill do anything to please me or Casimir. Is it not so?"

I assured her she might rely upon my observing; with the truestfidelity any request of hers, small or great. 

She thanked me and resumed:

"You know I have been working secretly in my studio for some time past. I have been occupied in the execution of two designs--one is finished, and is intended as a gift to Casimir. The other"--she hesitated--"isincomplete. It is the colossal figure which was veiled when you firstcame in to see my little statue of 'Evening'. I made an attempt beyondmy powers--in short, I cannot carry out the idea to my satisfaction. Now, dear, pay great attention to what I say. I have reason to believethat I shall be compelled to take a sudden journey--promise me thatwhen I am gone you will see that unfinished statue completelydestroyed--utterly demolished. "

I could not answer her for a minute or two, I was so surprised by herwords. 

"Going on a journey, Zara?" I said. "Well, if you are, I suppose youwill soon return home again; and why should your statue be destroyed inthe meantime? You may yet be able to bring it to final perfection. "

Zara shook her head and smiled half sadly. 

"I told you it was a favour I had to ask of you, " she said; "and nowyou are unwilling to grant it. "

"I am not unwilling--believe me, dearest, I would do anything to pleaseyou, " I assured her; "but it seems so strange to me that you shouldwish the result of your labour destroyed, simply because you are goingon a journey. "

"Strange as it seems, I desire it most earnestly, " said Zara;"otherwise--but if you will not see it done for me, I must preside atthe work of demolition myself, though I frankly confess it would bemost painful to me. "

I interrupted her. 

"Say no more, Zara!" I exclaimed; "I will do as you wish. When you aregone, you say--"

"When I am gone, " repeated Zara firmly, "and before you yourself leavethis house, you will see that particular statue destroyed. You willthus do me a very great service. "

"Well, " I said, "and when are you coming back again? Before I leaveParis?"

"I hope so--I think so, " she replied evasively; "at any rate, we shallmeet again soon. "

"Where are you going?" I asked. 

She smiled. Such a lovely, glad, and triumphant smile!

"You will know my destination before to-night has passed away, " sheanswered. "In the meanwhile I have your promise?"

"Most certainly. "

She kissed me, and as she did so, a lurid flash caught my eyes andalmost dazzled them. It was a gleam of fiery lustre from the electricjewel she wore. 

The day went on its usual course, and the weather seemed to growmurkier every hour. The air was almost sultry, and when during theafternoon I went into the conservatory to gather some of the gloriousMarechal Niel roses that grew there in such perfection, the intenseheat of the place was nearly insupportable. I saw nothing of Heliobasall day, and, after the morning, very little of Zara. She disappearedsoon after luncheon, and I could not find her in her rooms nor in herstudio, though I knocked at the door several times. Leo, too, wasmissing. After being alone for an hour or more, I thought I would pay avisit to the chapel. But on attempting to carry out this intention Ifound its doors locked--an unusual circumstance which rather surprisedme. Fancying that I heard the sound of voices within, I paused tolisten. But all was profoundly silent. Strolling into the hall, I tookup at random from a side-table a little volume of poems, unknown to me, called "Pygmalion in Cyprus;" and seating myself in one of theluxurious Oriental easy-chairs near the silvery sparkling fountain, Ibegan to read. I opened the book I held at "A Ballad of Kisses, " whichran as follows:

 "There are three kisses that I call to mind, And I will sing their secrets as I go, -- The first, a kiss too courteous to be kind, Was such a kiss as monks and maidens know, As sharp as frost, as blameless as the snow. 

 "The second kiss, ah God! I feel it yet, -- And evermore my soul will loathe the same, -- The toys and joys of fate I may forget, But not the touch of that divided shame; It clove my lips--it burnt me like a flame. 

 "The third, the final kiss, is one I use Morning and noon and night, and not amiss. Sorrow be mine if such I do refuse! And when I die, be Love enrapt in bliss Re-sanctified in heaven by such a kiss!"

This little gem, which I read and re-read with pleasure, was only oneof many in the same collection, The author was assuredly a man ofgenius. I studied his word-melodies with intense interest, and notedwith some surprise how original and beautiful were many of his fanciesand similes. I say I noted them with surprise, because he was evidentlya modern Englishman, and yet unlike any other of his writing species. His name was not Alfred Tennyson, nor Edwin Arnold, nor Matthew Arnold, nor Austin Dobson, nor Martin Tupper. He was neither plagiarist nortranslator--he was actually an original man. I do not give his namehere, as I consider it the duty of his own country to find him out andacknowledge him, which, as it is so proud of its literary standing, ofcourse it will do in due season. On this, my first introduction to hispoems, I became speedily absorbed in them, and was repeating to myselfsoftly a verse which I remember now:

 "Hers was sweetest of sweet faces, Hers the tenderest eyes of all; In her hair she had the traces Of a heavenly coronal, Bringing sunshine to sad places Where the sunlight could not fall. "

Then I was startled by the sound of a clock striking six. I bethoughtmyself of the people who were coming to dinner, and decided to go to myroom and dress. Replacing the "Pygmalion" book on the table whence Ihad taken it, I made my way upstairs, thinking as I went of Zara andher strange request, and wondering what journey she was going upon. 

I could not come to any satisfactory conclusion on this point, besides, I had a curious disinclination to think about it very earnestly, thoughthe subject kept recurring to my mind. Yet always some inward monitorseemed to assure me, as plainly as though the words were spoken in myear:

"It is useless for you to consider the reason of this, or the meaningof that. Take things as they come in due order: one circumstanceexplains the other, and everything is always for the best. "

I prepared my Indian crepe dress for the evening, the same I had wornfor Madame Didier's party at Cannes; only, instead of having lilies ofthe valley to ornament it with, I arranged some clusters of theMarechal Niel roses I had gathered from the conservatory--lovelyblossoms, with their dewy pale-gold centres forming perfect cups ofdelicious fragrance. These, relieved by a few delicate sprays of themaiden-hair fern, formed a becoming finish to my simple costume. As Iarrayed myself, and looked at my own reflection in the long mirror, Ismiled out of sheer gratitude. For health, joyous and vigorous, sparkled in my eyes, glowed on my cheeks, tinted my lips, and roundedmy figure. The face that looked back at me from the glass was aperfectly happy one, ready to dimple into glad mirth or brightlaughter. No shadow of pain or care remained upon it to remind me ofpast suffering, and I murmured half aloud: "Thank God!"

"Amen!" said a soft voice, and, turning round, I saw Zara. 

But how shall I describe her? No words can adequately paint theglorious beauty in which, that night, she seemed to move as in anatmosphere of her own creating. She wore a clinging robe of therichest, softest white satin, caught in at the waist by a zone ofpearls--pearls which, from their size and purity, must have beenpriceless. Her beautiful neck and arms were bare, and twelve rows ofpearls were clasped round her slender throat, supporting in theircentre the electric stone, which shone with a soft, subdued radiance, like the light of the young moon. Her rich, dark hair was arranged inits usual fashion--that is, hanging down in one thick plait, which onthis occasion was braided in and out with small pearls. On her bosomshe wore a magnificent cluster of natural orange-blossoms; and ofthese, while I gazed admiringly at her, I first spoke:

"You look like a bride, Zara! You have all the outward signs ofone--white satin, pearls, and orange-blossoms!"

She smiled. 

"They are the first cluster that has come out in our conservatory, " shesaid; "and I could not resist them. As to the pearls, they belonged tomy mother, and are my favourite ornaments; and white satin is now nolonger exclusively for brides. How soft and pretty that Indian crepeis! Your toilette is charming, and suits you to perfection. Are youquite ready?"

"Quite, " I answered. 

She hesitated and sighed. Then she raised her lovely eyes with a sortof wistful tenderness. 

"Before we go down I should like you to kiss me once, " she said. 

I embraced her fondly, and our lips met with a lingering sisterlycaress. 

"You will never forget me, will you?" she asked almost anxiously;"never cease to think of me kindly?"

"How fanciful you are to-night, Zara dear!" I said. "As if I COULDforget you! I shall always think of you as the loveliest and sweetestwoman in the world. "

"And when I am out of the world--what then?" she pursued. 

Remembering her spiritual sympathies, I answered at once:

"Even then I shall know you to be one of the fairest of the angels. Soyou see, Zara darling, I shall always love you. "

"I think you will, " she said meditatively; "you are one of us. Butcome! I hear voices downstairs. I think our expected guests havearrived, and we must be in the drawing-room to receive them. Good-bye, little friend!" And she again kissed me. 

"Good-bye!" I repeated in astonishment; "why 'good-bye'?"

"Because it is my fancy to say the word, " she replied with quietfirmness. "Again, dear little friend, good-bye!"

I felt bewildered, but she would not give me time to utter anothersyllable. She took my hand and hurried me with her downstairs, and inanother moment we were both in the drawing-room, receiving and sayingpolite nothings to the Everards and Challoners, who had all arrivedtogether, resplendent in evening costume. Amy Everard, I thought, looked a little tired and fagged, though she rejoiced in a superb"arrangement" by Worth of ruby velvet and salmon-pink. But, though aperfect dress is consoling to most women, there are times when eventhat fails of its effect; and then Worth ceases to loom before thefeminine eye as a sort of demi-god, but dwindles insignificantly to thelevel of a mere tailor, whose prices are ruinous. And this, I think, was the state of mind in which Mrs. Everard found herself that evening;or else she was a trifle jealous of Zara's harmonious grace andloveliness. Be this as it may, she was irritable, and whisperinglyfound fault with, me for being in such good health. 

"You will have too much colour if you don't take care, " she said almostpettishly, "and nothing is so unfashionable. "

"I know!" I replied with due meekness. "It is very bad style to bequite well--it is almost improper. "

She looked at me, and a glimmering smile lighted her features. But shewould not permit herself to become good-humoured, and she furled andunfurled her fan of pink ostrich feathers with some impatience. 

"Where did that child get all those pearls from?" she next inquired, with a gesture of her head towards Zara. 

"They belonged to her mother, " I answered, smiling as I heard Zaracalled a CHILD, knowing, as I did, her real age. 

"She is actually wearing a small fortune on her person, " went on Amy;"I wonder her brother allows her. Girls never understand the value ofthings of that sort. They should be kept for her till she is old enoughto appreciate them. "

I made no reply; I was absorbed in watching Heliobas, who at thatmoment entered the room accompanied by Father Paul. He greeted hisguests with warmth and unaffected heartiness, and all present were, Icould see, at once fascinated by the dignity of his presence and thecharm of his manner. To an uninstructed eye there was nothing unusualabout him; but to me there was a change in his expression which, as itwere, warned and startled me. A deep shadow of anxiety in his eyes madethem look more sombre and less keen; his smile was not so sweet as itwas stern, and there was an undefinable SOMETHING in his very bearingthat suggested--what? Defiance? Yes, defiance; and it was this which, when I had realized it, curiously alarmed me. For what had he, Heliobas, to do with even the thought of defiance? Did not all hispower come from the knowledge of the necessity of obedience to thespiritual powers within and without? Quick as light the words spoken tome by Aztul regarding him came back to my remembrance: "Even as he ismy Beloved, so let him not fail to hear my voice. " What if he SHOULDfail? A kind of instinct came upon me that some immediate danger ofthis threatened him, and I braced myself up to a firm determination, that, if this was so, I, out of my deep gratitude to him, would do myutmost best to warn him in time. While these thoughts possessed me, thehum of gay conversation went on, and Zara's bright laughter ever andagain broke like music on the air. Father Paul, too, proved himself tobe of quite a festive and jovial disposition, for he made himselfagreeable to Mrs. Challoner and her daughters, and entertained themwith the ease and bonhomie of an accomplished courtier and man of theworld. 

Dinner was announced in the usual way--that is, with the sound of musicplayed by the electric instrument devoted to that purpose, aperformance which elicited much admiration from all the guests. Heliobas led the way into the dining-room with Mrs. Everard; ColonelEverard followed, with Zara on one arm and the eldest Miss Challoner onthe other; Mr. Challoner and myself came next; and Father Paul, withMrs. Challoner and her other daughter Effie, brought up the rear. Therewas a universal murmur of surprise and delight as the dinner-table camein view; and its arrangement was indeed a triumph of art. In the centrewas placed a large round of crystal in imitation of a lake, and on thisapparently floated a beautiful gondola steered by the figure of agondolier, both exquisitely wrought in fine Venetian glass. Thegondolier was piled high with a cargo of roses; but the wonder of itall was, that the whole design was lit up by electricity. Electricsparkles, like drops of dew, shone on the leaves of the flowers; thegondola was lit from end to end with electric stars, which werereflected with prismatic brilliancy in the crystal below; thegondolier's long pole glittered with what appeared to be drops of watertinged by the moonlight, but which was really an electric wire, and inhis cap flashed an electric diamond. The whole ornament scintillatedand glowed like a marvellous piece of curiously contrived jewel-work. And this was not all. Beside every guest at table a slender vase, shaped like a long-stemmed Nile lily, held roses and ferns, in whichwere hidden tiny electric stars, causing the blossoms to shine with atransparent and almost fairy-like lustre. 

Four graceful youths, clad in the Armenian costume, stood waitingsilently round the table till all present were seated, and then theycommenced the business of serving the viands, with swift and noiselessdexterity. As soon as the soup was handed round, tongues were loosened, and the Challoners, who had been gazing at everything in almostopen-mouthed astonishment, began to relieve their feelings by warmexpressions of unqualified admiration, in which Colonel and Mrs. Everard were not slow to join. 

"I do say, and I will say, this beats all I've ever seen, " said goodMrs. Challoner, as she bent to examine the glittering vase of flowersnear her plate. 

"And this is real electric light? And is it perfectly harmless?"

Heliobas smilingly assured her of the safety of his table decorations. "Electricity, " he said, "though the most powerful of masters, is themost docile of slaves. It is capable of the smallest as well as of thegreatest uses. It can give with equal certainty life or death; in fact, it is the key-note of creation. "

"Is that your theory, sir?" asked Colonel Everard. 

"It is not only my theory, " answered Heliobas, "it is a truth, indisputable and unalterable, to those who have studied the mysteriesof electric science. "

"And do you base all your medical treatment on this principle?" pursuedthe Colonel. 

"Certainly. Your young friend here, who came to me from Cannes, lookingas if she had but a few months to live, can bear witness to theefficacy of my method. "

Every eye was now turned upon me, and I looked up and laughed. 

"Do you remember, Amy, " I said, addressing Mrs. Everard, "how you toldme I looked like a sick nun at Cannes? What do I look like now?"

"You look as if you had never been ill in your life, " she replied. 

"I was going to say, " remarked Mr. Challoner in his deliberate manner, "that you remind me very much of a small painting of Diana that I sawin the Louvre the other day. You have the same sort of elasticity inyour movements, and the same bright healthy eyes. "

I bowed, still smiling. "I did not know you were such a flatterer, Mr. Challoner! Diana thanks you!"

The conversation now became general, and turned, among other subjects, upon the growing reputation of Raffaello Cellini. 

"What surprises me in that young man, " said Colonel Everard, "is hiscolouring. It is simply marvellous. He was amiable enough to present mewith a little landscape scene; and the effect of light upon it is sopowerfully done that you would swear the sun was actually shiningthrough it. "

The fine sensitive mouth of Heliobas curved in a somewhat sarcasticsmile. 

"Mere trickery, my dear sir--a piece of clap-trap, " he said lightly. "That is what would be said of such pictures--in England at least. Andit WILL be said by many oracular, long-established newspapers, whileCellini lives. As soon as he is dead--ah! c'est autre chose!--he willthen most probably be acknowledged the greatest master of the age. There may even be a Cellini 'School of Colouring, ' where a selectcompany of daubers will profess to know the secret that has died withhim. It is the way of the world!"

Mr. Challoner's rugged face showed signs of satisfaction, and hisshrewd eyes twinkled. 

"Right you are, sir!" he said, holding up his glass of wine. "I drinkto you! Sir, I agree with you! I calculate there's a good many worldsflying round in space, but a more ridiculous, feeble-minded, contrarysort of world than this one, I defy any archangel to find!"

Heliobas laughed, nodded, and after a slight pause resumed:

"It is astonishing to me that people do not see to what an infinitenumber of uses they could put the little re-discovery they have made ofLUMINOUS PAINT. In that simple thing there is a secret, which as yetthey do not guess--a wonderful, beautiful, scientific secret, which mayperhaps take them a few hundred years to find out. In the meantime theyhave got hold of one end of the thread; they can make luminous paint, and with it they can paint light-houses, and, what is far moreimportant--ships. Vessels in mid-ocean will have no more need offog-signals and different-coloured lamps; their own coat of paint willbe sufficient to light them safely on their way. Even rooms can be sopainted as to be perfectly luminous at night. A friend of mine, residing in Italy, has a luminous ballroom, where the ceiling isdecorated with a moon and stars in electric light. The effect isexceedingly lovely; and though people think a great deal of money musthave been laid out upon it, it is perhaps the only great ballroom inItaly that has been really cheaply fitted up. But, as I said before, there is another secret behind the invention or discovery of luminouspaint--a secret which, when once unveiled, will revolutionize all theschools of art in the world. "

"Do you know this secret?" asked Mrs. Challoner. 

"Yes, madame--perfectly. "

"Then why don't you disclose it for the benefit of everybody?" demandedErne Challoner. 

"Because, my dear young lady, no one would believe me if I did. Thetime is not yet ripe for it. The world must wait till its people arebetter educated. "

"Better educated!" exclaimed Mrs. Everard. "Why, there is nothingtalked of nowadays but education and progress! The very children arewiser than their parents!"

"The children!" returned Heliobas, half inquiringly, half indignantly. "At the rate things are going, there will soon be no children left;they will all be tired little old men and women before they are intheir teens. The very babes will be born old. Many of them are beingbrought up without any faith in God or religion; the result will be anincrease of vice and crime. The purblind philosophers, miscalled wisemen, who teach the children by the light of poor human reason only, anddo away with faith in spiritual things, are bringing down upon thegenerations to come an unlooked-for and most terrific curse. Childhood, the happy, innocent, sweet, unthinking, almost angelic age, at whichNature would have us believe in fairies and all the delicate aerialfancies of poets, who are, after all, the only true sages--childhood, Isay, is being gradually stamped out under the cruel iron heel of thePeriod--a period not of wisdom, health, or beauty, but one of drunkendelirium, in which the world rushes feverishly along, its eyes fixed onone hard, glittering, stony-featured idol--Gold. Education! Is iteducation to teach the young that their chances of happiness depend onbeing richer than their neighbours? Yet that is what it all tends to. Get on!--be successful! Trample on others, but push forward yourself!Money, money!--let its chink be your music; let its yellow shine befairer than the eyes of love or friendship! Let its piles accumulateand ever accumulate! There are beggars in the streets, but they areimpostors! There is poverty in many places, but why seek to relieve it?Why lessen the sparkling heaps of gold by so much as a coin? Accumulateand ever accumulate! Live so, and then--die! And then--who knows whatthen?"

His voice had been full of ringing eloquence as he spoke, but at theselast words it sank into a low, thrilling tone of solemnity andearnestness. We all looked at him, fascinated by his manner, and weresilent. 

Mr. Challoner was the first to break the impressive pause. 

"I'm not a speaker, sir, " he observed slowly, "but I've got a good dealof feeling somewheres; and you'll allow me to say that I feel yourwords--I think they're right true. I've often wanted to say what you'vesaid, but haven't seen my way clear to it. Anyhow, I've had a verygeneral impression about me that what we call Society has of late yearsbeen going, per express service, direct to the devil--if the ladieswill excuse me for plain speaking. And as the journey is being taken bychoice and free-will, I suppose there's no hindrance or stoppagepossible. Besides, it's a downward line, and curiously free fromobstructions. "

"Bravo, John!" exclaimed Mrs. Challoner. "You are actually corning out!I never heard you indulge in similes before. "

"Well, my dear, " returned her husband, somewhat gratified, "better latethan never. A simile is a good thing if it isn't overcrowded. Forinstance, Mr. Swinburne's similes are laid on too thick sometimes. There is a verse of his, which, with all my admiration for him, I nevercould quite fathom. It is where he earnestly desires to be as 'Any leafof any tree;' or, failing that, he wouldn't mind becoming 'As bonesunder the deep, sharp sea. ' I tried hard to see the point of that, butcouldn't fix it. "

We all laughed. Zara, I thought, was especially merry, and looked herloveliest. She made an excellent hostess, and exerted herself to theutmost to charm--an effort in which she easily succeeded. 

The shadow on the face of her brother had not disappeared, and once ortwice I noticed that Father Paul looked at him with a certain kindlyanxiety. 

The dinner approached its end. The dessert, with its luxurious dishesof rare fruit, such as peaches, plantains, hothouse grapes, and evenstrawberries, was served, and with it a delicious, sparkling, topaz-tinted wine of Eastern origin called Krula, which was poured outto us in Venetian glass goblets, wherein lay diamond-like lumps of ice. The air was so exceedingly oppressive that evening that we found thisbeverage most refreshing. When Zara's goblet was filled, she held it upsmiling, and said:

"I have a toast to propose. "

"Hear, hear!" murmured the gentlemen, Heliobas excepted. 

"To our next merry meeting!" and as she said this she kissed the rim ofthe cup, and made a sign as though wafting it towards her brother. 

He started as if from a reverie, seized his glass, and drained off itscontents to the last drop. 

Everyone responded with heartiness to Zara's toast and then ColonelEverard proposed the health of the fair hostess, which was drunk withenthusiasm. 

After this Zara gave the signal, and all the ladies rose to adjourn tothe drawing-room. As I passed Heliobas on my way out, he looked sosombre and almost threatening of aspect, that I ventured to whisper:

"Remember Azul!"

"She has forgotten ME!" he muttered. 

"Never--never!" I said earnestly. "Oh, Heliobas! what is wrong withyou?"

He made no answer, and there was no opportunity to say more, as I hadto follow Zara. But I felt very anxious, though I scarcely knew why, and I lingered at the door and glanced back at him. As I did so, a low, rumbling sound, like chariot-wheels rolling afar off, broke suddenly onour ears. 

"Thunder, " remarked Mr. Challoner quietly. "I thought we should haveit. It has been unnaturally warm all day. A good storm will clear theair. "

In my brief backward look at Heliobas, I noted that when thatfar-distant thunder sounded, he grew very pale. Why? He was certainlynot one to have any dread of a storm--he was absolutely destitute offear. I went into the drawing-room with a hesitating step--my instinctswere all awake and beginning to warn me, and I murmured softly a prayerto that strong, invisible majestic spirit which I knew must be nearme--my guardian Angel. I was answered instantly--my foreboding grewinto a positive certainty that some danger menaced Heliobas, and thatif I desired to be his friend, I must be prepared for an emergency. Receiving this, as all such impressions should be received, as a directmessage sent me for my guidance, I grew calmer, and braced up myenergies to oppose SOMETHING, though I knew not what. 

Zara was showing her lady-visitors a large album of Italianphotographs, and explaining them as she turned the leaves. As I enteredthe room, she said eagerly to me:

"Play to us, dear! Something soft and plaintive. We all delight in yourmusic, you know. "

"Did you hear the thunder just now?" I asked irrelevantly. 

"It WAS thunder? I thought so!" said Mrs. Everard. "Oh, I do hope thereis not going to be a storm! I am so afraid of a storm!"

"You are nervous?" questioned Zara kindly, as she engaged her attentionwith some very fine specimens among the photographs, consisting ofviews from Venice. 

"Well, I suppose I am, " returned Amy, half laughing. "Yet I am pluckyabout most things, too. Still I don't like to hear the elementsquarrelling together--they are too much in earnest about it--and noperson can pacify them. "

Zara smiled, and gently repeated her request to me for some music--arequest in which Mrs. Challoner and her daughters eagerly joined. As Iwent to the piano I thought of Edgar Allan Poe's exquisite poem:

 "In Heaven a spirit doth dwell, Whose heart-strings are a lute; None sing so wildly well As the angel Israfel, And the giddy stars, so legends tell, Ceasing their hymns, attend the spell Of his voice--all mute. "

As I poised my fingers above the keys of the instrument, another long, low, ominous roll of thunder swept up from the distance and made theroom tremble. 

"Play--play, for goodness' sake!" exclaimed Mrs. Everard; "and then weshall not be obliged to fix our attention on the approaching storm!"

I played a few soft opening arpeggio passages, while Zara seatedherself in an easy-chair near the window, and the other ladies arrangedthemselves on sofas and ottomans to their satisfaction. The room wasexceedingly close: and the scent of the flowers that were placed aboutin profusion was almost too sweet and overpowering. 

 "And they say (the starry choir And the other listening things) That Israfeli's fire Is owing to that lyre, By which lie sits and sings, -- The trembling living wire Of those unusual strings. "

How these verses haunted me! With them floating in my mind, Iplayed--losing myself in mazes of melody, and travelling harmoniouslyin and out of the different keys with that sense of perfect joy knownonly to those who can improvise with ease, and catch the unwrittenmusic of nature, which always appeals most strongly to emotions thatare unspoilt by contact with the world, and which are quick to respondto what is purely instinctive art. I soon became thoroughly absorbed, and forgot that there were any persons present. In fancy I imaginedmyself again in view of the glory of the Electric Ring--again I seemedto behold the opaline radiance of the Central Sphere:

 "Where Love's a grown-up God, Where the Houri glances are Imbued with all the beauty Which we worship in a star. "

By-and-by I found my fingers at the work of tenderly unravelling alittle skein of major melody, as soft and childlike as the innocentbabble of a small brooklet flowing under ferns. I followed this airysuggestion obediently, till it led me of itself to its fitting end, when I ceased playing. I was greeted by a little burst of applause, andlooking up, saw that all the gentlemen had come in from thedining-room, and were standing near me. The stately figure of Heliobaswas the most prominent in the group; he stood erect, one hand restinglightly on the framework of the piano, and his eyes met mine fixedly. 

"You were inspired, " he said with a grave smile, addressing me; "youdid not observe our entrance. "

I was about to reply, when a loud, appalling crash of thunder rattledabove us, as if some huge building had suddenly fallen into ruins. Itstartled us all into silence for a moment, and we looked into eachother's faces with a certain degree of awe. 

"That was a good one, " remarked Mr. Challoner. "There was nothingundecided about that clap. Its mind was made up. "

Zara suddenly rose from her seat, and drew aside the window-curtains. 

"I wonder if it is raining, " she said. 

Amy Everard uttered a little shriek of dismay. 

"Oh, don't open the blinds!" she exclaimed. "It is really dangerous!"

Heliobas glanced at her with a little sarcastic smile. 

"Take a seat on the other side of the room, if you are alarmed, madame, " he said quietly, placing a chair in the position he suggested, which Amy accepted eagerly. 

She would, I believe, have gladly taken refuge in the coal-cellar hadhe offered it. Zara, in the meantime, who had not heard Mrs. Everard'sexclamation of fear, had drawn up one of the blinds, and stood silentlylooking out upon the night. Instinctively we all joined her, with theexception of Amy, and looked out also. The skies were very dark; afaint moaning wind stirred the tops of the leafless trees; but therewas no rain. A dry volcanic heat pervaded the atmosphere--in fact weall felt the air so stifling, that Heliobas threw open the windowaltogether, saying, as he did so:

"In a thunderstorm, it is safer to have the windows open than shut;besides, one cannot suffocate. "

A brilliant glare of light flashed suddenly upon our vision. Theheavens seemed torn open from end to end, and a broad lake of pale bluefire lay quivering in the heart of the mountainous black clouds--for asecond only. An on-rushing, ever-increasing, rattling roar of thunderensued, that seemed to shake the very earth, and all was again darkness. 

"This is magnificent!" cries Mrs. Challoner, who, with her family, hadtravelled a great deal, and was quite accustomed to hurricanes andother inconveniences caused by the unaccommodating behaviour of theelements. "I don't think I ever saw anything like it, John dear, eventhat storm we saw at Chamounix was not any better than this. "

"Well, " returned her husband meditatively, "you see we had the snowmountains there, and the effect was pretty lively. Then there were theechoes--those cavernous echoes were grand! What was that passage inJob, Effie, that I used to say they reminded me of?"

"'The pillars of heaven tremble, and are astonished at His reproof ... The thunder of His power, who can understand?'" replied Effie Challonerreverently. 

"That's it!" he replied. "I opine that Job was pretty correct in hisideas--don't you, reverend sir?" turning to Father Paul. 

The priest nodded, and held up his finger warningly. 

"That lady--Mrs. Everard--is going to sing or play, I think, " heobserved. "Shall we not keep silence?"

I looked towards Amy in some surprise. I knew she sang very prettily, but I had thought she was rendered too nervous by the storm to do aughtbut sit quiet in her chair. However, there she was at the piano, and inanother moment her fresh, sweet mezzo-soprano rang softly through theroom in Tosti's plaintive song, "Good-bye!" We listened, but none of usmoved from the open window where we still inhaled what air there was, and watched the lowering sky. 

 "Hush! a voice from the far-away, 'Listen and learn, ' it seems to say; 'All the to-morrows shall be as to-day, '"

sang Amy with pathetic sweetness. Zara suddenly moved, as if oppressed, from her position among us as we stood clustered together, and steppedout through the French window into the outside balcony, her headuncovered to the night. 

"You will catch cold!" Mrs. Challoner and I both called to hersimultaneously. She shook her head, smiling back at us; and folding herarms lightly on the stone balustrade, leaned there and looked up at theclouds. 

 "The link must break, and the lamp must die; Good-bye to Hope! Good-bye--good-bye!"

Amy's voice was a peculiarly thrilling one, and on this occasionsounded with more than its usual tenderness. What with her singing andthe invisible presence of the storm, an utter silence possessed us--notone of us cared to move. 

Heliobas once stepped to his sister's side in the open balcony, andsaid something, as I thought, to warn her against taking cold; but itwas a very brief whisper, and he almost immediately returned to hisplace amongst us. Zara looked very lovely out there; the light comingfrom the interior of the room glistened softly on the sheen of hersatin dress and its ornaments of pearls; and the electric stone on herbosom shone faintly, like a star on a rainy evening. Her beautifulface, turned upwards to the angry sky, was half in light and half inshade; a smile parted her lips, and her eyes were bright with a look ofinterest and expectancy. Another sudden glare, and the clouds wereagain broken asunder; but this time in a jagged and hasty manner, asthough a naked sword had been thrust through them and immediatelywithdrawn. 

"That was a nasty flash, " said Colonel Everard, with an observantglance at the lovely Juliet-like figure on the balcony. "Mademoiselle, had you not better come in?"

"When it begins to rain I will come in, " she said, without changing herposture. "I hear the singing so well out here. Besides, I love thestorm. "

A tumultuous crash of thunder, tremendous for its uproar and the lengthof time it was prolonged, made us look at each other again with anxiousfaces. 

 "What are we waiting for? Oh, my heart! Kiss me straight on the brows and part! Again! again, my heart, my heart! What are we waiting for, you and I? A pleading look--a stifled cry! Good-bye for ever---"

Horror! what was that? A lithe swift serpent of fire twistingvenomously through the dark heavens! Zara raised her arms, looked up, smiled, and fell--senseless! With such appalling suddenness that we hadscarcely recovered from the blinding terror of that forkedlightning-flash, when we saw her lying prone before us on the balconywhere one instant before she had stood erect and smiling! Withexclamations of alarm and distress we lifted and bore her within theroom and laid her tenderly down upon the nearest sofa. At that moment adeafening, terrific thunder-clap--one only--as if a huge bombshell hadburst in the air, shook the ground under our feet; and then with aswish and swirl of long pent-up and suddenly-released wrath, down camethe rain. 

Amy's voice died away in a last "Good-bye!" and she rushed from thepiano, with pale face and trembling lips, gasping out:

"What has happened? What is the matter?"

"She has been stunned by a lightning-flash, " I said, trying to speakcalmly, while I loosened Zara's dress and sprinkled her forehead witheau-de-Cologne from a scent-bottle Mrs. Challoner had handed to me. "She will recover in a few minutes. "

But my limbs trembled under me, and tears, in spite of myself, forcedtheir way into my eyes. 

Heliobas meanwhile--his countenance white and set as a marblemask--shut the window fiercely, pulled down the blind, and drew theheavy silken curtains close. He then approached his sister's senselessform, and, taking her wrist tenderly, felt for her pulse. We looked onin the deepest anxiety. The Challoner girls shivered with terror, andbegan to cry. Mrs. Everard, with more self-possession, dipped ahandkerchief in cold water and laid it on Zara's temples; but no faintsigh parted the set yet smiling lips--no sign of life was visible. Allthis while the rain swept down in gusty torrents and rattled furiouslyagainst the window-panes; while the wind, no longer a moan, had riseninto a shriek, as of baffled yet vindictive anger. At last Heliobasspoke. 

"I should be glad of other medical skill than my own, " he said, in lowand stifled accents. "This may be a long fainting-fit. "

Mr. Challoner at once proffered his services. 

"I'll go for you anywhere you like, " he said cheerily; "and I think mywife and daughters had better come with me. Our carriage is sure to bein waiting. It will be necessary for the lady to have perfect quietwhen she recovers, and visitors are best away. You need not be alarmed, I am sure. By her colour it is evident she is only in a swoon. Whatdoctor shall I send?"

Heliobas named one Dr. Morini, 10, Avenue de l'Alma. 

"Right! He shall be here straight. Come, wife--come, girls! Mrs. Everard, we'll send back our carriage for you and the Colonel. Good-night! We'll call to-morrow and inquire after mademoiselle. "

Heliobas gratefully pressed his hand as he withdrew, and his wife anddaughters, with whispered farewells, followed him. We who were leftbehind all remained near Zara, doing everything we could think of torestore animation to that senseless form. 

Some of the servants, too, hearing what had happened, gathered in alittle cluster at the drawing-room door, looking with pale and alarmedfaces at the death-like figure of their beautiful mistress. Half anhour or more must have passed in this manner; within the room there wasa dreadful silence--but outside the rain poured down in torrents, andthe savage wind howled and tore at the windows like a besieging army. Suddenly Amy Everard, who had been quietly and skilfully assisting mein rubbing Zara's hands and bathing her forehead, grew faint, staggered, and would have fallen had not her husband caught her on hisarm. 

"I am frightened, " she gasped. "I cannot bear it--she looks so still, and she is growing--rigid, like a corpse! Oh, if she should be dead!"And she hid her face on her husband's breast. 

At that moment we heard the grating of wheels on the gravel outside; itwas the Challoners' carriage returned. The coachman, after depositinghis master and family at the Grand Hotel, had driven rapidly back inthe teeth of the stinging sleet and rain to bring the message that Dr. Morini would be with us as soon as possible. 

"Then, " whispered Colonel Everard gently to me, "I'll take Amy home. She is thoroughly upset, and it's no use having her going off intohysterics. I'll call with Challoner to-morrow;" and with a kindlyparting nod of encouragement to us all, he slipped softly out of theroom, half leading, half carrying his trembling wife; and in a coupleof minutes we heard the carriage again drive away. 

Left alone at last with Heliobas and Father Paul, I, kneeling at theside of my darling Zara, looked into their faces for comfort, but foundnone. The dry-eyed despair on the countenance of Heliobas pierced me tothe heart; the pitying, solemn expression of the venerable priesttouched me as with icy cold. The lovely, marble-like whiteness andstillness of the figure before me filled me with a vague terror. Makinga strong effort to control my voice, I called, in a low, clear tone:

"Zara! Zara!"

No sign--not the faintest flicker of an eyelash! Only the sound of thefalling rain and the moaning wind--the thunder had long ago ceased. Suddenly a something attracted my gaze, which first surprised and thenhorrified me. The jewel--the electric stone on Zara's bosom no longershone! It was like a piece of dull unpolished pebble. Grasping at themeaning of this, with overwhelming instinctive rapidity, I sprang upand caught the arm of Heliobas. 

"You--you!" I whispered hurriedly. "YOU can restore her! Do as you didwith Prince Ivan; you can--you must! That stone she wears--the lighthas gone out of it. If that means--and I am sure it does--that life hasfor a little while gone out of HER, YOU can bring it back. Quick--Quick! You have the power!"

He looked at me with burning grief-haunted eyes; and a sigh that wasalmost a groan escaped his lips. 

"I have NO power, " he said. "Not over her. I told you she was dominatedby a higher force than mine. What can _I_ do? Nothing--worse thannothing--I am utterly helpless. "

I stared at him in a kind of desperate horror. 

"Do you mean to tell me, " I said slowly, "that she is dead--reallydead?"

He was about to answer, when one of the watching servants announced ina low tone: "Dr. Morini. "

The new-comer was a wiry, keen-eyed little Italian; his movements werequick, decisive, and all to the point of action. The first thing he didwas to scatter the little group of servants right and left, and sendthem about their business. The next, to close the doors of the roomagainst all intrusion. He then came straight up to Heliobas, andpressing his hand in a friendly manner, said briefly:

"How and when did this happen?"

Heliobas told him in as few words as possible. Dr. Morini then bentover Zara's lifeless form, and examined her features attentively. Helaid his car against her heart and listened. Finally, he caught sightof the round, lustreless pebble hanging at her neck suspended by itsstrings of pearls. Very gently he moved this aside; looked, andbeckoned us to come and look also. Exactly on the spot where theelectric stone had rested, a small circular mark, like a black bruise, tainted the fair soft skin--a mark no larger than a small finger-ring. 

"Death by electricity, " said Dr. Morini quietly. "Must have beeninstantaneous. The lightning-flash, or downward electric current, lodged itself here, where this mark is, and passed directly through theheart. Perfectly painless, but of course fatal. She has been dead sometime. "

And, replacing the stone ornament in its former position, he steppedback with a suggestive glance at Father Paul. I listened and saw--but Iwas in a state of stupefaction. Dead? My beautiful, gay, strong ZaraDEAD? Impossible! I knelt beside her; I called her again and again byevery endearing and tender name I could think of; I kissed her sweetlips. Oh, they were cold as ice, and chilled my blood! As one in adream, I saw Heliobas advance; he kissed her forehead and mouth; hereverently unclasped the pearls from about her throat, and with themtook off the electric stone. Then Father Paul stepped slowly forward, and in place of that once brilliant gem, now so dim and destitute offire, he laid a crucifix upon the fair and gentle breast, motionlessfor ever. 

At sight of this sacred symbol, some tense cord seemed to snap in mybrain, and I cried out wildly:

"Oh, no, no! Not that! That is for the dead; Zara is not dead! It isall a mistake--a mistake! She will be quite well presently; and shewill smile and tell you how foolish you were to think her dead! Dead?She cannot be dead; it is impossible--quite impossible!" And I brokeinto a passion of sobs and tears. 

Very gently and kindly Dr. Morini drew me away, and by dint of friendlypersuasion, in which there was also a good deal of firm determination, led me into the hall, where he made me swallow a glass of wine. As Icould not control my sobs, he spoke with some sternness:

"Mademoiselle, you can do no good by giving way in this manner. Deathis a very beautiful and solemn thing, and it is irreverent to showunseemly passion in such a great Presence. You loved your friend--letit be a comfort to you that she died painlessly. Control yourself, inorder to assist in rendering her the last few gentle servicesnecessary; and try to console the desolate brother, who looks in realneed of encouragement. "

These last words roused me. I forced back my tears, and dried my eyes. 

"I will, Dr. Morini, " I said, in a trembling voice. "I am ashamed to beso weak. I know what I ought to do, and I will do it. You may trust me. "

He looked at me approvingly. 

"That is well, " he said briefly. "And now, as I am of no use here, Iwill say good-night. Remember, excessive grief is mere selfishness;resignation is heroism. "

He was gone. I nerved myself to the task I had before me, and within anhour the fair casket of what had been Zara lay on an open bier in thelittle chapel, lights burning round it, and flowers strewn above it inmournful profusion. 

We left her body arrayed in its white satin garb; the cluster oforange-blossoms she had gathered still bloomed upon the cold breast, where the crucifix lay; but in the tresses of the long dark hair I wovea wreath of lilies instead of the pearls we had undone. 

And now I knelt beside the bier absorbed in thought. Some of theweeping servants had assembled, and knelt about in little groups. Thetall candles on the altar were lit, and Father Paul, clad in mourningpriestly vestments, prayed there in silence. The storm of rain and windstill raged without, and the windows of the chapel shook and rattledwith the violence of the tempest. 

A distant clock struck ONE! with a deep clang that echoed throughoutthe house. I shuddered. So short a time had elapsed since Zara had beenalive and well; now, I could not bear to think that she was gone fromme for ever. For ever, did I say? No, not for ever--not so long as loveexists--love that shall bring us together again in that far-off Spherewhere---

Hush! what was that? The sound of the organ? I looked around me instartled wonderment. There was no one seated at the instrument; it wasshut close. The lights on the altar and round the bier burnt steadily;the motionless figure of the priest before the tabernacle; the prayingservants of the household--all was unchanged. But certainly a flood ofmusic rolled grandly on the ear--music that drowned for a moment thehowling noise of the battering wind. I rose softly, and touched one ofthe kneeling domestics on the shoulder. 

"Did you hear the organ?" I said. 

The woman looked up at me with tearful, alarmed eyes. 

"No, mademoiselle. "

I paused, listening. The music grew louder and louder, and surged roundme in waves of melody. Evidently no one in the chapel heard it butmyself. I looked about for Heliobas, but he had not entered. He wasmost probably in his study, whither he had retired to grieve in secretwhen we had borne Zara's body to its present couch of dreamless sleep. 

These sounds were meant for me alone, then? I waited, and the musicgradually died away; and as I resumed my kneeling position by the bierall was again silence, save for the unabated raging of the storm. 

A strange calmness now fell on my spirits. Some invisible hand seemedto hold me still and tearless. Zara was dead. I realized it now. Ibegan to consider that she must have known her fate beforehand. Thiswas what she had meant when she said she was going on a journey. Themore I thought of this the quieter I became, and I hid my face in myhands and prayed earnestly. 

A touch roused me--an imperative, burning touch. An airy brightness, like a light cloud with sunshine falling through it, hovered aboveZara's bier! I gazed breathlessly; I could not move my lips to utter asound. A face looked at me--a face angelically beautiful! It smiled. Istretched out my hands; I struggled for speech, and managed to whisper:

"Zara, Zara! you have come back!"

Her voice, so sweetly familiar, answered me: "To life? Ah, never, neveragain! I am too happy to return. But save him--save my brother! Go tohim; he is in danger; to you is given the rescue. Save him; and for merejoice, and grieve no more!"

The face vanished, the brightness faded, and I sprang up from my kneesin haste. For one instant I looked at the beautiful dead body of thefriend I loved, with its set mouth and placid features, and then Ismiled. This was not Zara--SHE was alive and happy; this fair clay wasbut clay doomed to perish, but SHE was imperishable. 

"Save him--save my brother!" These words rang in my ears. I hesitatedno longer--I determined to seek Heliobas at once. Swiftly andnoiselessly I slipped out of the chapel. As the door swung behind me Iheard a sound that first made me stop in sudden alarm, and then hurryon with increased eagerness. There was no mistaking it--it was theclash of steel!

CHAPTER XVI. 

A STRUGGLE FOR THE MASTERY. 

I rushed to the study-door, tore aside the velvet hangings, and facedHeliobas and Prince Ivan Petroffsky. They held drawn weapons, whichthey lowered at my sudden entrance, and paused irresolutely. 

"What are you doing?" I cried, addressing myself to Heliobas. "With thedead body of your sister in the house you can fight! You, too!" and Ilooked reproachfully at Prince Ivan; "you also can desecrate thesanctity of death, and yet--you LOVED her!"

The Prince spoke not, but clenched his sword-hilt with a fiercer grasp, and glared wildly on his opponent. His eyes had a look of madness inthem--his dress was much disordered--his hair wet with drops ofrain--his face ghastly white, and his whole demeanour was that of a mandistraught with grief and passion. But he uttered no word. Heliobasspoke; he was coldly calm, and balanced his sword lightly on his openhand as if it were a toy. 

"This GENTLEMAN, " he said, with deliberate emphasis, "happened, on hisway thither, to meet Dr. Morini, who informed him of the fatalcatastrophe which has caused my sister's death. Instead of respectingthe sacredness of my solitude under the circumstances, he thrusthimself rudely into my presence, and, before I could address him, struck me violently in the face, and accused me of being my sister'smurderer. Such conduct can only meet with one reply. I gave him hischoice of weapons: he chose swords. Our combat has just begun--we areanxious to resume it; therefore if you, mademoiselle, will have thegoodness to retire---"

I interrupted him. 

"I shall certainly not retire, " I said firmly. "This behaviour on bothyour parts is positive madness. Prince Ivan, please to listen to me. The circumstances of Zara's death were plainly witnessed by me andothers--her brother is as innocent of having caused it as I am. "

And I recounted to him quietly all that had happened during that fataland eventful evening. He listened moodily, tracing out the pattern ofthe carpet with the point of his sword. When I had finished he lookedup, and a bitter smile crossed his features. 

"I wonder, mademoiselle, " he said, "that your residence in thisaccursed house has not taught you better. I quite believe all you say, that Zara, unfortunate girl that she was, received her death by alightning-flash. But answer me this: Who made her capable of attractingatmospheric electricity? Who charged her beautiful delicate body with avile compound of electrical fluid, so that she was as a living magnet, bound to draw towards herself electricity in all its forms? Whotampered with her fine brain and made her imagine herself allied to aspirit of air? Who but HE--HE!--yonder unscrupulous wretch!--he who inpursuit of his miserable science, practised his most dangerousexperiments on his sister, regardless of her health, her happiness, herlife! I say he is her murderer--her remorseless murderer, and athrice-damned villain!"

And he sprang forward to renew the combat. I stepped quietly, unflinchingly between him and Heliobas. 

"Stop!" I exclaimed; "this cannot go on. Zara herself forbids it!"

The Prince paused, and looked at me in a sort of stupefaction. 

"Zara forbids it!" he muttered. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, " I went on, "that I have seen Zara since her death; I havespoken to her. She herself sent me here. "

Prince Ivan stared, and then burst into a fit of wild laughter. 

"Little fool!" he cried to me; "he has maddened you too, then! You arealso a victim! Miserable girl! out of my path! Revenge--revenge! whileI am yet sane!"

Then pushing me roughly aside, he cast away his sword, and shouted toHeliobas:

"Hand to hand, villain! No more of these toy-weapons! Hand to hand!"

Heliobas instantly threw down his sword also, and rushing forwardsimultaneously, they closed together in savage conflict. Heliobas wasthe taller and more powerful of the two, but Prince Ivan seemed imbuedwith the spirit of a hundred devils, and sprang at his opponent'sthroat with the silent breathless ferocity of a tiger. At firstHeliobas appeared to be simply on the defensive, and his agile, skilfulmovements were all used to parry and ward off the other's grapplingeagerness. But as I watched the struggle, myself speechless andpowerless, I saw his face change. Instead of its calm and almostindifferent expression, there came a look which was completely foreignto it--a look of savage determination bordering on positive cruelty. Ina moment I saw what was taking place in his mind. The animal passionsof the mere MAN were aroused--the spiritual force was utterlyforgotten. The excitement of the contest was beginning to tell, and thedesire of victory was dominant in the breast of him whose ideas weregenerally--and should have been now--those of patient endurance andlarge generosity. The fight grew closer, hotter, and more terrible. Suddenly the Prince swerved aside and fell, and within a secondHeliobas held him down, pressing one knee firmly against his chest. From my point of observation I noted with alarm that little by littleIvan ceased his violent efforts to rise, and that he kept his eyesfixed on the overshadowing face of his foe with an unnatural andcurious pertinacity. I stepped forward. Heliobas pressed his wholeweight heavily down on the young man's prostrate body, while with bothhands he held him by the shoulders, and gazed with terrific meaninginto his fast-paling countenance. Ivan's lips turned blue; his eyesappeared to start from their sockets; his throat rattled. The spellthat held me silent was broken; a flash of light, a flood of memoryswept over my intelligence. I knew that Heliobas was exciting the wholebattery of his inner electric force, and that thus employed for thepurposes of vengeance, it must infallibly cause death. I found myspeech at last. 

"Heliobas!" I cried "Remember, remember Azul! When Death lies like agift in your hand, withhold it. Withhold it, Heliobas; and give Lifeinstead!"

He started at the sound of my voice, and looked up. A strong shuddershook his frame. Very slowly, very reluctantly, he relaxed hisposition; he rose from his kneeling posture on the Prince's breast--heleft him and stood upright. Ivan at the same moment heaved a deep sigh, and closed his eyes, apparently insensible. 

Gradually one by one the hard lines faded out of the face of Heliobas, and his old expression of soft and grave beneficence came back to it asgraciously as sunlight after rain. He turned to me, and bent his headin a sort of reverential salutation. 

"I thank and bless you, " he said; "you reminded me in time! Anothermoment and it would have been too late. You have saved me. "

"Give him his life, " I said, pointing to Ivan. 

"He has it, " returned Heliobas; "I have not taken it from him, thankGod! He provoked me; I regret it. I should have been more patient withhim. He will revive immediately. I leave him to your care. In dealingwith him, I ought to have remembered that human passion like his, unguided by spiritual knowledge, was to be met with pity andforbearance. As it is, however, he is safe. For me, I will go and prayfor Zara's pardon, and that of my wronged Azul. "

As he uttered the last words, he started, looked up, and smiled. 

"My beautiful one! Thou HAST pardoned me? Thou wilt love me still? Thouart with me, Azul, my beloved? I have not lost thee, oh my best anddearest! Wilt thou lead me? Whither? Nay--no matter whither--I come!"

And as one walking in sleep, he went out of the room, and I heard hisfootsteps echoing in the distance on the way to the chapel. 

Left alone with the Prince, I snatched a glass of cold water from thetable, and sprinkled some of it on his forehead and hands. This wasquite sufficient to revive him; and he drew a long breath, opened hiseyes, and stared wildly about him. Seeing no one but me he grewbewildered, and asked:

"What has happened?"

Then catching sight of the drawn swords lying still on the ground wherethey had been thrown, he sprang to his feet, and cried:

"Where is the coward and murderer?"

I made him sit down and hear with patience what I had to say. Ireminded him that Zara's health and happiness had always been perfect, and that her brother would rather have slain himself than her. I toldhim plainly that Zara had expected her death, and had prepared forit--had even bade me good-bye, although then I had not understood themeaning of her words. I recalled to his mind the day when Zara had usedher power to repulse him. 

"Disbelieve as you will in electric spiritual force, " I said. "Yourmessage to her then through me was--TELL HER I HAVE SEEN HER LOVER. "

At these words a sombre shadow flitted over the Prince's face. 

"I tell you, " he said slowly, "that I believe I was on that occasionthe victim of an hallucination. But I will explain to you what I saw. Asuperb figure, like, and yet unlike, a man, but of a much larger andgrander form, appeared to me, as I thought, and spoke. 'Zara is mine, 'it said--'mine by choice; mine by freewill; mine till death; mine afterdeath; mine through eternity. With her thou hast naught in common; thyway lies elsewhere. Follow the path allotted to thee, and presume nomore upon an angel's patience. ' Then this Strange majestic-lookingcreature, whose face, as I remember it, was extraordinarily beautiful, and whose eyes were like self-luminous stars, vanished. But, after all, what of it? The whole thing was a dream. "

"I am not so sure of that, " I said quietly, "But, Prince Ivan, now thatyou are calmer and more capable of resignation, will you tell me whyyou loved Zara?"

"Why!" he broke out impetuously. "Why, because it was impossible tohelp loving her. "

"That is no answer, " I replied. "Think! You can reason well if youlike--I have heard you hold your own in an argument. What made you loveZara?"

He looked at me in a sort of impatient surprise, but seeing I was verymuch in earnest, he pondered a minute or so before replying. 

"She was the loveliest woman I have ever seen!" he said at last, and inhis voice there was a sound of yearning and regret. 

"Is THAT all?" I queried, with a gesture of contempt. "Because her bodywas beautiful--because she had sweet kissing lips and a soft skin;because her hand was like a white flower, and her dark hair clusteringover her brow reminded one of a misty evening cloud hiding moonlight;because the glance of her glorious eyes made the blood leap throughyour veins and sting you with passionate desire--are these the reasonsof your so-called love? Oh, give it some other and lower name! For theworms shall feed on the fair flesh that won your admiration--their wetand slimy bodies shall trail across the round white arms and tenderbosom--unsightly things shall crawl among the tresses of the glossyhair; and nothing, nothing shall remain of what you loved, but dust. Prince Ivan, you shudder; but I too loved Zara--I loved HER, not theperishable casket in which, like a jewel, she was for a time enshrined. I love her still--and for the being I love there is no such thing asdeath. "

The Prince was silent, and seemed touched. I had spoken with realfeeling, and tears of emotion stood in my eyes. 

"I loved her as a man generally loves, " he said, after a little pause. "Nay--more than most men love most women!"

"Most men are too often selfish in both their loves and hatreds, " Ireturned. "Tell me if there was anything in Zara's mind andintelligence to attract you? Did you sympathize in her pursuits; didyou admire her tastes; had you any ideas in common with her?"

"No, I confess I had not, " he answered readily. "I considered her to beentirely a victim to her brother's scientific experiments. I thought, by making her my wife, to release her from such tyranny and give herrescue and refuge. To this end I found out all I could from--HIM"--heapproached the name of Heliobas with reluctance--"and I made up my mindthat her delicate imagination had been morbidly excited; but thatmarriage and a life like that led by other women would bring her to amore healthy state of mind. "

I smiled with a little scorn. 

"Your presumption was almost greater than your folly, Prince, " I said, "that with such ideas as these in your mind you could dream of winningZara for a wife. Do you think she could have led a life like that ofother women? A frivolous round of gaiety, a few fine dresses andjewels, small-talk, society scandal, stale compliments--you think suchthings would have suited HER? And would she have contented herself witha love like yours? Come! Come and see how well she has escaped you!"

And I beckoned him towards the door. He hesitated. 

"Where would you take me?" he asked. 

"To the chapel. Zara's body lies there. "

He shuddered. 

"No, no--not there! I cannot bear to look upon her perishedloveliness--to see that face, once so animated, white and rigid--deathin such a form is too horrible!"

And he covered his eyes with his hand--I saw tears slowly drop throughhis fingers. I gazed at him, half in wonder, half in pity. 

"And yet you are a brave man!" I said. 

These words roused him. He met my gaze with such a haggard look of woethat my heart ached for him. What comfort had he now? What joy could heever expect? All his happiness was centred in the fact of BEINGALIVE--alive to the pleasures of living, and to the joys the worldcould offer to a man who was strong, handsome, rich, andaccomplished--how could he look upon death as otherwise than aloathsome thing--a thing not to be thought of in the heyday of youthfulblood and jollity--a doleful spectre, in whose bony hands the roses oflove must fall and wither! With a sense of deep commiseration in me, Ispoke again with great gentleness. 

"You need not look upon Zara's corpse unless you wish it, Prince, " Isaid. "To you, the mysteries of the Hereafter have not been unlocked, because there is something in your nature that cannot and will notbelieve in God. Therefore to you, death must be repellent. I know youare one of those for whom the present alone exists--you easily forgetthe past, and take no trouble for the future. Paris is your heaven, orSt. Petersburg, or Vienna, as the fancy takes you; and the modernatheistical doctrines of French demoralization are in your blood. Nothing but a heaven-sent miracle could make you other than you are, and miracles do not exist for the materialist. But let me say two wordsmore before you go from this house. Seek no more to avenge yourself foryour love-disappointment on Heliobas--for you have really nothing toavenge. By your own confession you only cared for Zara's body--thatbody was always perishable, and it has perished by a sudden but naturalcatastrophe. With her soul, you declare you had nothing in common--thatwas herself--and she is alive to us who love her as she sought to beloved. Heliobas is innocent of having slain her body; he but helped tocultivate and foster that beautiful Spirit which he knew to be HER--forthat he is to be honored and commended. Promise me, therefore, PrinceIvan, that you will never approach him again except infriendship--indeed, you owe him an apology for your unjust accusation, as also your gratitude for his sparing your life in the recentstruggle. "

The Prince kept his eyes steadily fixed upon me all the time I wasspeaking, and as I finished, he sighed and moved restlessly. 

"Your words are compelling, mademoiselle, " he said; "and you have astrange attraction for me. I know I am not wrong in thinking that youare a disciple of Heliobas, whose science I admit, though I doubt histheories. I promise you willingly what you ask--nay, I will even offerhim my hand if he will accept it. "

Overjoyed at my success, I answered: "He is in the chapel, but I willfetch him here. "

Over the Prince's face a shadow of doubt, mingled with dread, passedswiftly, and he seemed to be forming a resolve in his own mind whichwas more or less distasteful to him. Whatever the feeling was heconquered it by a strong effort, and said with firmness:

"No; I will go to him myself. And I will look again upon--upon the faceI loved. It is but one pang the more, and why should I not endure it?"

Seeing him thus inclined, I made no effort to dissuade him, and withoutanother word I led the way to the chapel. I entered it reverently, hefollowing me closely, with slow hushed footsteps. All was the same as Ihad left it, save that the servants of the household had gone to takesome needful rest before the morning light called them to their dailyroutine of labour. Father Paul, too, had retired, and Heliobas aloneknelt beside all that remained of Zara, his figure as motionless asthough carved in bronze, his face hidden in his hands. As weapproached, he neither stirred nor looked up, therefore I softly ledthe Prince to the opposite side of the bier, that he might look quietlyon the perished loveliness that lay there at rest for ever. Ivantrembled, yet steadfastly gazed at the beautiful reposeful form, at thecalm features on which the smile with which death had been received, still lingered--at the folded hands, the fading orange-blossoms--at thecrucifix that lay on the cold breast like the final seal on the letterof life. Impulsively he stooped forward, and with a tender awe pressedhis lips on the pale forehead, but instantly started back with thesmothered, exclamation:

"O God! how cold!"

At the sound of his voice Heliobas rose up erect, and the two men facedeach other, Zara's dead body lying like a barrier betwixt them. 

A pause followed--a pause in which I heard my own heart beating loudly, so great was my anxiety. Heliobas suffered a few moments to elapse, then stretched his hand across his sister's bier. 

"In HER name, let there be peace between us, Ivan, " he said in accentsthat were both gentle and solemn. 

The Prince, touched to the quick, responded to these kindly words witheager promptness, and they clasped hands over the quiet and lovely formthat lay there--a silent, binding witness of their reconciliation. 

"I have to ask your pardon, Casimir, " then whispered Ivan. "I have alsoto thank you for my life. "

"Thank the friend who stands beside you, " returned Heliobas, in thesame low tone, with a slight gesture towards me. "She reminded me of aduty in time. As for pardon, I know of no cause of offence on your partsave what was perfectly excusable. Say no more; wisdom comes withyears, and you are yet young. "

A long silence followed. We all remained looking wistfully down uponthe body of our lost darling, in thought too deep for words or weeping. I then noticed that another humble mourner shared our watch--a mournerwhose very existence I had nearly forgotten. It was the faithful Leo. He lay couchant on the stone floor at the foot of the bier, almost assilent as a dog of marble; the only sign of animation he gave being adeep sigh which broke from his honest heart now and then. I went to himand softly patted his shaggy coat. He looked up at me with big browneyes full of tears, licked my hand meekly, and again laid his head downupon his two fore-paws with a resignation that was most pathetic. 

The dawn began to peer faintly through the chapel windows--the dawn ofa misty, chilly morning. The storm of the past night had left a stingin the air, and the rain still fell, though gently. The wind had almostentirely sunk into silence. I re-arranged the flowers that were strewnon Zara's corpse, taking away all those that had slightly faded. Theorange-blossom was almost dead, but I left that where it was--where theliving Zara had herself placed it. As I performed this slight service, I thought, half mournfully, half gladly--

 "Yes, Heaven is thine, but this Is a world of sweets and sours-- Our flowers are merely FLOWERS; And the shadow of thy perfect bliss Is the sunshine of ours. "

Prince Ivan at last roused himself as from a deep and melancholyreverie, and, addressing himself to Heliobas, said softly:

"I will intrude no longer on your privacy, Casimir. Farewell! I shallleave Paris to-night. "

For all answer Heliobas beckoned him and me also out of the chapel. Assoon as its doors closed behind us, and we stood in the centre hall, hespoke with affectionate and grave earnestness:

"Ivan, something tells me that you and I shall not meet again for manyyears, if ever. Therefore, when you say 'farewell, ' the word falls uponmy ears with double meaning. We are friends--our friendship issanctified by the dead presence of one whom we both loved, in differentways; therefore you will take in good part what I now say to you. Youknow, you cannot disguise from yourself that the science I study isfraught with terrible truth and marvellous discoveries; the theories Ideduce from it you disbelieve, because you are nearly a materialist. Isay NEARLY--not quite. That 'not quite' makes me love you, Ivan: Iwould save the small bright spark that flickers within you from bothescape and extinction. But I cannot--at least, not as yet. Still, inorder that you may know that there is a power in me higher thanordinary human reason, before you go from me to-night hear my prophecyof your career. The world waits for you, Ivan--the world, all agape andglittering with a thousand sparkling toys; it waits greedy for yourpresence, ready to fawn upon you for a smile, willing to cringe to youfor a nod of approval. And why? Because wealth is yours--vast, illimitable wealth. Aye--you need not start or look incredulous--youwill find it as I say. You, whose fortune up to now has barely reacheda poor four thousand per annum--you are at this moment the possessor ofmillions. Only last night a relative of yours, whose name you scarcelyknow, expired, leaving all his hoarded treasures to you. Before theclose of this present day, on whose threshold we now stand, you willhave the news. When you receive it remember me, and acknowledge that atleast for once I knew and spoke the truth. Follow the broad road, Ivan, laid out before you--a road wide enough not only for you to walk in, but for the crowd of toadies and flatterers also, who will push onswiftly after you and jostle you on all sides; be strong of heart andmerry of countenance! Gather the roses; press the luscious grapes intowarm, red wine that, as you quaff it, shall make your blood dance a madwaltz in your veins, and fair women's faces shall seem fairer to youthan ever, their embraces more tender, their kisses more tempting! Spinthe ball of Society like a toy in the palm of your hand! I see yourlife stretching before me like a brilliant, thread-like ephemeral rayof light! But in the far distance across it looms a shadow--a shadowthat your power alone can never lift. Mark me, Ivan! When the firstdread chill of that shadow makes itself felt, come to me--I shall yetbe living. Come; for then no wealth can aid you--at that dark hour noboon companions can comfort. Come; and by our friendship so latelysworn--by Zara's pure soul--by God's existence, I will not die till Ihave changed that darkness over you into light eternal!--Fare you well!"

He caught the Prince's hand, and wrung it hard; then, without furtherword, look, or gesture, turned and disappeared again within the chapel. 

His words had evidently made a deep impression on the young nobleman, who gazed after his retreating figure with a certain awe not unmingledwith fear. 

I held out my hand in silent farewell. Ivan took it gently, and kissedit with graceful courtesy. 

"Casimir told me that your intercession saved my life, mademoiselle, "he said. "Accept my poor thanks. If his present prophet-like utterancesbe true---"

"Why should you doubt him?" I asked, with some impatience. "Can youbelieve in NOTHING?"

The Prince, still holding my hand, looked at me in a sort of graveperplexity. 

"I think you have hit it, " he observed quietly. "I doubt everythingexcept the fact of my own existence, and there are times when I am noteven sure of that. But if, as I said before, the prophecy of myChaldean friend, whom I cannot help admiring with all my heart, turnsout to be correct, then my life is more valuable to me than ever withsuch wealth to balance it, and I thank you doubly for having saved itby a word in time. "

I withdrew my hand gently from his. 

"You think the worth of your life increased by wealth?" Tasked. 

"Naturally! Money is power. "

"And what of the shadow also foretold as inseparable from your fate?"

A faint smile crossed his features. 

"Ah, pardon me! That is the only portion of Casimir's fortune-tellingthat I am inclined to disbelieve thoroughly. "

"But, " I said, "if you are willing to accept the pleasant part of hisprophecy, why not admit the possibility of the unpleasant occurringalso?"

He shrugged his shoulders. 

"In these enlightened times, mademoiselle, we only believe what isagreeable to us, and what suits our own wishes, tastes, and opinions. Ca va sans dire. We cannot be forced to accept a Deity against ourreason. That is a grand result of modern education. "

"Is it?" and I looked at him with pity. "Poor human reason! It willreel into madness sometimes for a mere trifle--an overdose of alcoholwill sometimes upset it altogether--what a noble omnipotent thing ishuman reason! But let me not detain you. Good-bye, and--as the greetingof olden times used to run--God save you!"

He bent his head with a light reverence. 

"I believe you to be a good, sweet woman, " he said, "therefore I amgrateful for your blessing. My mother, " and here his eyes grew dreamyand wistful--"poor soul! she died long ago--my mother would never letme retire to rest without signing the cross on my brow. Ah well, thatis past! I should like, mademoiselle, " and his voice sank very low, "tosend some flowers for--her--you understand?"

I did understand, and readily promised to lay whatever blossoms heselected tenderly above the sacred remains of that earthly beauty hehad loved, as he himself said, "more than most men love most women. "

He thanked me earnestly, and seemed relieved and satisfied. Casting alook of farewell around the familiar hall, he wafted a parting kisstowards the chapel--an action which, though light, was full oftenderness and regret. Then, with a low salute, he left me. Thestreet-door opened and closed after him in its usual noiseless manner. He was gone. 

The morning had now fairly dawned, and within the Hotel Mars the workof the great mansion went on in its usual routine; but a sombremelancholy was in the atmosphere--a melancholy that not all my bestefforts could dissipate. The domestics looked sullen and heavy-eyed;the only ones in their number who preserved their usual equanimity werethe Armenian men-servants and the little Greek page. Preparations forZara's funeral went on apace; they were exceedingly simple, and theceremony was to be quite private in character. Heliobas issued hisorders, and saw to the carrying out of his most minute instructions inhis usual calm manner; but his eyes looked heavy, and his finecountenance was rendered even more majestic by the sacred, resignedsorrow that lay upon it like a deep shadow. His page served him withbreakfast in his private room: but he left the light meal untasted. Oneof the women brought me coffee; but the very thought of eating anddrinking seemed repulsive, and I could not touch anything. My mind wasbusy with the consideration of the duty I had to perform--namely, tosee the destruction of Zara's colossal statue, as she had requested. After thinking about it for some time, I went to Heliobas and told himwhat I had it in charge to do. He listened attentively. 

"Do it at once, " he said decisively. "Take my Armenians; they arediscreet, obedient, and they ask no questions--with strong hammers theywill soon crush the clay. Stay! I will come with you. " Then looking atme scrutinizingly, he added kindly: "You have eaten nothing, my child?You cannot? But your strength will give way--here, take this. " And lieheld out a small glass of a fluid whose revivifying properties I wellknew to be greater than any sustenance provided by an ordinary meal. Iswallowed it obediently, and as I returned the empty glass to him hesaid: "I also have a commission in charge from Zara. You know, Isuppose, that she was prepared for her death?"

"I did not know; but I think she must have been, " I answered. 

"She was. We both were. We remained together in the chapel all day, saying what parting words we had to say to one another. We knew herdeath, or rather her release, was to occur at some hour that night; butin what way the end was destined to come, we knew not. Till I heard thefirst peals of thunder, I was in suspense; but after that I was nolonger uncertain. You were a witness of the whole ensuing scene. Nodeath could have been more painless than hers. But let me not forgetthe message she gave me for you. " Here he took from a secret drawer theelectric stone Zara had always worn. "This jewel is yours, " he said. "You need not fear to accept it--it contains no harm! it will bring youno ill-fortune. You see how all the sparkling brilliancy has gone outof it? Wear it, and within a few minutes it will be as lustrous asever. The life throbbing in your veins warms the electricity containedin it; and with the flowing of your blood, its hues change and glow. Ithas no power to attract; it can simply absorb and shine. Take it as aremembrance of her who loved you and who loves you still. "

I was still in my evening dress, and my neck was bare. I slipped thechain, on which hung the stone, round my throat, and watched thestrange gem with some curiosity. In a few seconds a pale streak offiery topaz flashed through it, which deepened and glowed into a warmcrimson, like the heart of a red rose; and by the time it had becomethoroughly warmed against my flesh, it glittered as brilliantly as ever. 

"I will always wear it, " I said earnestly. "I believe it will bring megood fortune. "

"I believe it will, " returned Heliobas simply. "And now let us fulfilZara's other commands. "

On our way across the hall we were stopped by the page, who brought usa message of inquiry after Zara's health from Colonel Everard and hiswife, and also from the Challoners. Heliobas hastily wrote a few briefwords in pencil, explaining the fatal result of the accident, andreturned it to the messenger, giving orders at the same time that allthe blinds should be pulled down at the windows of the house, thatvisitors might understand there was no admittance. We then proceeded tothe studio, accompanied by the Armenians carrying heavy hammers. Reverently, and with my mind full of recollections of Zara's livingpresence, I opened the familiar door. The first thing that greeted uswas a most exquisitely wrought statue in white marble of Zara herself, full length, and arrayed in her customary graceful Eastern costume. Thehead was slightly raised: a look of gladness lighted up the beautifulfeatures; and within the loosely clasped hands was a cluster of roses. Bound the pedestal were carved the words, "Omnia vincit Amor, " withZara's name and the dates of her birth and death. A little slip ofpaper lay at the foot of the statue, which Heliobas perceived, andtaking it he read and passed it to me. The lines were in Zara'shandwriting, and ran as follows:

"To my beloved Casimir--my brother, my friend, my guide and teacher, towhom I owe the supreme happiness of my life in this world and thenext--let this poor figure of his grateful Zara be a memento of happydays that are gone, only to be renewed with redoubled happinesshereafter. "

I handed back the paper silently, with tears in my eyes, and we turnedour attention to the colossal figure we had come to destroy. It stoodat the extreme end of the studio, and was entirely hidden by whitelinen drapery. Heliobas advanced, and by a sudden dexterous movementsucceeded in drawing off the coverings with a single effort, and thenwe both fell back and gazed at the clay form disclosed in amazement. What did it represent? A man? a god? an angel? or all three united inone vast figure?

It was an unfinished work. The features of the face were undeclared, save the brow and eyes; and these were large, grand, and full ofabsolute wisdom and tranquil consciousness of power. I could have gazedon this wonderful piece of Zara's handiwork for hours, but Heliobascalled to the Armenian servants, who stood near the door awaitingorders, and commanded them to break it down. For once thesewell-trained domestics showed signs of surprise, and hesitated. Theirmaster frowned. Snatching a hammer from one of them, he himselfattacked the great statue as if it were a personal foe. The Armenians, seeing he was in earnest, returned to their usual habits of passiveobedience, and aided him in his labour. Within a few minutes the greatand beautiful figure lay in fragments on the floor, and these fragmentswere soon crushed into indistinguishable atoms. I had promised towitness this work of destruction, and witness it I did, but it was withpain and regret. When all was finished, Heliobas commanded his men tocarry the statue of Zara's self down to his own private room, and thento summon all the domestics of the household in a body to the greathall, as he wished to address them. I heard him give this order withsome surprise, and he saw it. As the Armenians slowly disappeared, carrying with great care the marble figure of their late mistress, heturned to me, as he locked up the door of the studio, and said quietly:

"These ignorant folk, who serve me for money and food--money that theyhave eagerly taken, and food that they have greedily devoured--theythink that I am the devil or one of the devil's agents, and I am goingto prove their theories entirely to their satisfaction. Come and see!"

I followed him, somewhat mystified. On the way downstairs he said:

"Do you know why Zara wished that statue destroyed?"

"No, " I said frankly; "unless for the reason that it was incomplete. "

"It always would have been incomplete, " returned Heliobas; "even hadshe lived to work at it for years. It was a daring attempt, and afruitless one. She was trying to make a clay figure of one who neverwore earthly form--the Being who is her Twin-Soul, who dominates herentirely, and who is with her now. As well might she have tried torepresent in white marble the prismatic hues of the rainbow!"

We had now reached the hall, and the servants were assembling by twosand threes. They glanced at their master with looks of awe, as he tookup a commanding position near the fountain, and faced them with aglance of calm scrutiny and attention. I drew a chair behind one of themarble columns and seated myself, watching everything with interest. Leo appeared from some corner or other, and laid his rough body downclose at his master's feet. 

In a few minutes all the domestics, some twenty in number, werepresent, and Heliobas, raising his voice, spoke with a clear deliberateenunciation:

"I have sent for you all this morning, because I am perfectly awarethat you have all determined to give me notice. "

A stir of astonishment and dismay ensued on the part of the smallaudience, and I heard one voice near me whisper:

"He IS the devil, or how could he have known it?"

The lips of Heliobas curled in a fine sarcastic smile. He went on:

"I spare you this trouble. Knowing your intentions, I take upon myselfto dismiss you at once. Naturally, you cannot risk your characters byremaining in the service of the devil. For my own part, I wonder thedevil's money has not burnt your hands, or his food turned to poison inyour mouths. My sister, your kind and ever-indulgent mistress, is dead. You know this, and it is your opinion that I summoned up thethunderstorm which caused her death. Be it so. Report it so, if youwill, through Paris; your words do not affect me. You have beenexcellent machines, and for your services many thanks! As soon as mysister's funeral is over, your wages, with an additional present, willbe sent to you. You can then leave my house when you please; and, contrary to the usual custom of accepted devils, I am able to say, without perishing in the effort--God speed you all!"

The faces of those he addressed exhibited various emotions while hespoke--fear contending with a good deal of shame. The little Greek pagestepped forward timidly. 

"The master knows that I will never leave him, " he murmured, and hislarge eyes were moist with tears. 

Heliobas laid a gentle hand on the boy's dark curls, but said nothing. One of the four Armenians advanced, and with a graceful rapid gestureof his right hand, touched his head and breast. 

"My lord will not surely dismiss US who desire to devote ourselves tohis service? We are willing to follow my lord to the death if need be, for the sake of the love and honour we bear him. "

Heliobas looked at him very kindly. 

"I am richer in friends than I thought myself to be, " he said quietly. "Stay then, by all means, Afra, you and your companions, since you havedesired it. And you, my boy, " he went on, addressing the tearful page, "think you that I would turn adrift an orphan, whom a dying mothertrusted to my care? Nay, child, I am as much your servant as you aremine, so long as your love turns towards me. "

For all answer the page kissed his hand in a sort of rapture, andflinging back his clustering hair from his classic brows, surveyed thedomestics, who had taken their dismissal in silent acquiescence, with apretty scorn. 

"Go, all of you, scum of Paris!" he cried in his clear trebletones--"you who know neither God nor devil! You will have yourmoney--more than your share--what else seek you? You have served one ofthe noblest of men; and because he is so great and wise and true, youjudge him a fiend! Oh, so like the people of Paris--they who pervertall things till they think good evil and evil good! Look you! you haveworked for your wages; but I have worked for HIM--I would starve withhim, I would die for him! For to me he is not fiend, but Angel!"

Overcome by his own feelings the boy again kissed his master's hand, and Heliobas gently bade him be silent. He himself looked round on thestill motionless group of servants with an air of calm surprise. 

"What are you waiting for?" he asked. "Consider yourselves dismissed, and at liberty to go where you please. Any one of you that chooses toapply to me for a character shall not lack the suitable recommendation. There is no more to say. "

A lively-looking woman with quick restless black eyes stepped forward. 

"I am sure, " she said, with a mincing curtsey, "that we are very sorryif we have unintentionally wronged monsieur; but monsieur, who is awareof so many things, must know that many reports are circulated aboutmonsieur that make one to shudder; that madame his sister's death solamentable has given to all, what one would say, the horrors; andmonsieur must consider that poor servants of virtuous reputation--"

"So, Jeanne Claudet!" interrupted Heliobas, in a thrilling low tone. "And what of the child--the little waxen-faced helpless babe left todie on the banks of the Loire? But it did not die, Jeanne--it wasrescued; and it shall yet live to loathe its mother!"

The woman uttered a shriek, and fainted. 

In the feminine confusion and fuss that ensued, Heliobas, accompaniedby his little page and the dog Leo, left the hall and entered his ownprivate room, where for some time I left him undisturbed. 

In the early part of the afternoon a note was brought to me. It wasfrom Colonel Everard, entreating me to come as soon as possible to hiswife, who was very ill. 

"Since she heard of the death of that beautiful young lady, a death sofearfully sudden and unexpected, " wrote the Colonel, "she has beenquite unlike herself--nervous, hysterical, and thoroughly unstrung. Itwill be a real kindness to her if you will come as soon as you can--shehas such, a strong desire for your company. "

I showed this note at once to Heliobas. He read it, and said:

"Of course you must go. Wait till our simple funeral ceremony is over, and then--we part. Not for ever; I shall see you often again. For now Ihave lost Zara, you are my only female disciple, and I shall notwillingly lose sight of you. You will correspond with me?"

"Gladly and gratefully, " I replied. 

"You shall not lose by it. I can initiate you into many secrets thatwill be useful to you in your career. As for your friend Mrs. Everard, you will find that your presence will cure her. You have progressedgreatly in electric force: the mere touch of your hand will soothe her, as you will find. But never be tempted to try any of the fluids ofwhich you have the recipes on her, or on anybody but yourself, unlessyou write to me first about it, as Cellini did when he tried anexperiment on you. As for your own bodily and spiritual health, youknow thoroughly what to do--KEEP THE SECRET; and make a step in advanceevery day. By-and-by you will have double work. "

"How so?" I asked. 

"In Zara's case, her soul became dominated by a Spirit whose destinywas fulfilled and perfect, and who never could descend to imprisonmentin earthly clay. Now, you will not be dominated--you will be simplyEQUALIZED; that is, you will find the exact counterpart of your ownsoul dwelling also in human form, and you will have to impart your ownforce to that other soul, which will, in its turn, impart to yours acorresponding electric impetus. There is no union so lovely as such anone--no harmony so exquisite; it is like a perfect chord, complete andindissoluble. There are sevenths and ninths in music, beautiful andeffective in their degrees; but perhaps none of them are so absolutelysatisfying to the ear as the perfect chord. And this is your lot inlife and in love, my child--be grateful for it night and morning onyour bended knees before the Giver of all good. And walk warily--yourown soul with that other shall need much thought and humble prayer. Aimonward and upward--you know the road--you also know, and you havepartly seen, what awaits you at the end. "

After this conversation we spoke no more in private together. The restof the afternoon was entirely occupied with the final preparations forZara's funeral, which was to take place at Pere-la-Chaise early thenext morning. A large and beautiful wreath of white roses, lilies, andmaiden-hair arrived from Prince Ivan; and, remembering my promise tohim, I went myself to lay it in a conspicuous place on Zara's corpse. That fair body was now laid in its coffin of polished oak, and adelicate veil of filmy lace draped it from head to foot. The placidexpression of the features remained unchanged, save for a little extrarigidity of the flesh; the hands, folded over the crucifix, were stiff, and looked as though they were moulded in wax. I placed the wreath inposition and paused, looking wistfully at that still and solemn figure. Father Paul, slowly entering from a side-door, came and stood beside me. 

"She is happy!" he said; and a cheerful expression irradiated hisvenerable features. 

"Did you also know she would die that night?" I asked softly. 

"Her brother sent for me, and told me of her expected dissolution. Sheherself told me, and made her last confession and communion. ThereforeI was prepared. "

"But did you not doubt--were you not inclined to think they might bewrong?" I inquired, with some astonishment. 

"I knew Heliobas as a child, " the priest returned. "I knew his fatherand mother before him; and I have been always perfectly aware of theimmense extent of his knowledge, and the value of his discoveries. If Iwere inclined to be sceptical on spiritual matters, I should not be ofthe race I am; for I am also a Chaldean. "

I said no more, and Father Paul trimmed the tapers burning round thecoffin in devout silence. Again I looked at the fair dead form beforeme; but somehow I could not feel sad again. All my impulses bade merejoice. Why should I be unhappy on Zara's account?--more especiallywhen the glories of the Central Sphere were yet fresh in my memory, andwhen I knew as a positive fact that her happiness was now perfect. Ileft the chapel with a light step and lighter heart, and went to my ownroom to pack up my things that all might be in readiness for mydeparture on the morrow. On my table I found a volume whose quaintbinding I at once recognised--"The Letters of a Dead Musician. " A cardlay beside it, on which was written in pencil:

"Knowing of your wish to possess this book, I herewith offer it foryour acceptance. It teaches you a cheerful devotion to Art, and anindifference to the world's opinions--both of which are necessary toyou in your career. --HELIOBAS. "

Delighted with this gift, I opened the book, and found my name writtenon the fly-leaf, with the date of the month and year, and the words:

"La musica e il lamento dell' amore o la preghiera a gli Dei. " (Musicis the lament of love, or a prayer to the Gods. )

I placed this treasure carefully in a corner of my portmanteau, together with the parchment scrolls containing "The Electric Principleof Christianity, " and the valuables recipes of Heliobas; and as I didso, I caught sight of myself in the long mirror that directly faced me. I was fascinated, not by my own reflection, but by the glitter of theelectric gem I wore. It flashed and glowed like a star, and was reallylovely--far more brilliant than the most brilliant cluster of finediamonds. I may here remark that I have been asked many questionsconcerning this curious ornament whenever I have worn it in public, andthe general impression has been that it is some new arrangement ofornamental electricity. It is, however, nothing of the kind; it issimply a clear pebble, common enough on the shores of tropicalcountries, which has the property of absorbing a small portion of theelectricity in a human body, sufficient to make it shine with prismaticand powerful lustre--a property which has only as yet been discoveredby Heliobas, who asserts that the same capability exists in many otherapparently lustreless stones which have been untried, and are thereforeunknown. The "healing stones, " or amulets, still in use in the East, and also in the remote parts of the Highlands (see notes to ArchibaldClerk's translation of 'Ossian'), are also electric, but in a differentway--they have the property of absorbing DISEASE and destroying it incertain cases; and these, after being worn a suitable length of time, naturally exhaust what virtue they originally possessed, and are nolonger of any use. Stone amulets are considered nowadays as a meresuperstition of the vulgar and uneducated; but it must be rememberedthat superstition itself has always had for it a foundation some grain, however small and remote, of fact. I could give a very curiousexplanation of the formation of ORCHIDS, those strange plants calledsometimes "Freaks of Nature, " as if Nature ever indulged in a "freak"of any kind! But I have neither time nor space to enter upon thesubject now; indeed, if I were once to begin to describe the wonderful, amazing and beautiful vistas of knowledge that the wise Chaldean, whois still my friend and guide, has opened up and continues to extendbefore my admiring vision, a work of twenty volumes would scarcecontain all I should have to say. But I have written this book merelyto tell those who peruse it, about Heliobas, and what I myselfexperienced in his house; beyond this I may not go. For, as, I observedin my introduction, I am perfectly aware that few, if any, of myreaders will accept my narrative as more than a mere visionaryromance--or that they will admit the mysteries of life, death, eternity, and all the wonders of the Universe to be simply the NATURALAND SCIENTIFIC OUTCOME OF A RING OF EVERLASTING ELECTRIC HEAT ANDLIGHT; but whether they agree to it or no, I can say with Galileo, "Epur si muove!"

CHAPTER XVII. 

CONCLUSION. 

It was a very simple and quiet procession that moved next day from theHotel Mars to Pere-la-Chaise. Zara's coffin was carried in an openhearse, and was covered with a pall of rich white velvet, on which laya royal profusion of flowers--Ivan's wreath, and a magnificent cross oflilies sent by tender-hearted Mrs. Challoner, being most conspicuousamong them. The only thing a little unusual about it was that thefuneral car was drawn by two stately WHITE horses; and Heliobas told methis had been ordered at Zara's special request, as she thought thesolemn pacing through the streets of dismal black steeds had adepressing effect on the passers-by. 

"And why, " she had said, "should anybody be sad, when _I_ in reality amso thoroughly happy?"

Prince Ivan Petroffsky had left Paris, but his carriage, drawn by twoprancing Russian steeds, followed the hearse at a respectful distance, as also the carriage of Dr. Morini, and some other private personsknown to Heliobas. A few people attended it on foot, and these werechiefly from among the very poor, some of whom had benefited by Zara'scharity or her brother's medical skill, and had heard of the calamitythrough rumour, or through the columns of the Figaro, where it wasreported with graphic brevity. The weather was still misty, and thefiery sun seemed to shine through tears as Father Paul, with hisassistants, read in solemn yet cheerful tones the service for the deadaccording to the Catholic ritual. One of the chief mourners at thegrave was the faithful Leo; who, without obtruding himself in anyone'sway, sat at a little distance, and seemed, by the confiding look withwhich he turned his eyes upon his master, to thoroughly understand thathe must henceforth devote his life entirely to him alone. The coffinwas lowered, the "Requiem aeternam" spoken--all was over. Thoseassembled shook hands quietly with Heliobas, saluted each other, andgradually dispersed. I entered a carriage and drove back to the HotelMars, leaving Heliobas in the cemetery to give his final instructionsfor the ornamentation and decoration of his sister's grave. 

The little page served me with some luncheon in my own apartment, andby the time all was ready for my departure, Heliobas returned. I wentdown to him in his study, and found him sitting pensively in hisarm-chair, absorbed in thought. He looked sad and solitary, and mywhole heart went out to him in gratitude and sympathy. I knelt besidehim as a daughter might have done, and softly kissed his hand. 

He started as though awakened suddenly from sleep, and seeing me, hiseyes softened, and he smiled gravely. 

"Are you come to say 'Good-bye, ' my child?" he asked, in a kind tone. "Well, your mission here is ended!"

"Had I any mission at all, " I replied, with a grateful look, "save thevery selfish one which was comprised in the natural desire to berestored to health?"

Heliobas surveyed me for a few moments in silence. 

"Were I to tell you, " he said at last, "by what mystical authority andinfluence you were compelled to come here, by what a marvellouslylinked chain of circumstances you became known to me long before I sawyou; how I was made aware that you were the only woman living to whosecompanionship I could trust my sister at a time when the society of oneof her own sex became absolutely necessary to her; how you were markedout to me as a small point of light by which possibly I might steer mycourse clear of the darkness which threatened me--I say, were I to tellyou all this, you would no longer doubt the urgent need of yourpresence here. It is, however, enough to tell you that you havefulfilled all that was expected of you, even beyond my best hopes; andin return for your services, the worth of which you cannot realize, whatever guidance I can give you in the future for your physical andspiritual life, is yours. I have done something for you, but notmuch--I will do more. Only, in communicating with me, I ask you tohonour me with your full confidence in all matters pertaining toyourself and your surroundings--then I shall not be liable to errors ofjudgment in the opinions I form or the advice I give. "

"I promise most readily, " I replied gladly, for it seemed to me that Iwas rich in possessing as a friend and counsellor such a man as thisstudent of the loftiest sciences. 

"And now one thing more, " he resumed, opening a drawer in the tablenear which he sat. "Here is a pencil for you to write your letters tome with. It will last about ten years, and at the expiration of thattime you can have another. Write with it on any paper, and the markswill be like those of an ordinary drawing-pencil; but as fast as theyare written they disappear. Trouble not about this circumstance--writeall you have to say, and when you have finished your letter yourclosely covered pages shall seem blank. Therefore, were the eye of astranger to look at them, nothing could be learned therefrom. But whenthey reach me, I can make the writing appear and stand out on theseapparently unsullied pages as distinctly as though your words had beenprinted. My letters to you will also, when you receive them, appearblank; but you will only have to press them for about ten minutes inthis"--and he handed me what looked like an ordinaryblotting-book--"and they will be perfectly legible. Cellini has theselittle writing implements; he uses them whenever the distances are toogreat for us to amuse ourselves with the sagacity of Leo--in fact thejourneys of that faithful animal have principally been to keep him intraining. "

"But, " I said, as I took the pencil and book from his hand, "why do younot make these convenient writing materials public property? They wouldbe so useful. "

"Why should I build up a fortune for some needy stationer?" he asked, with a half-smile. "Besides, they are not new things. They were knownto the ancients, and many secret letters, laws, histories, and poemswere written with instruments such as these. In an old library, destroyed more than two centuries ago, there was a goodly pile ofapparently blank parchment. Had I lived then and known what I know now, I could have made the white pages declare their mystery. "

"Has this also to do with electricity?" I asked. 

"Certainly--with what is called vegetable electricity. There is not aplant or herb in existence, but has almost a miracle hidden away in itstiny cup or spreading leaves--do you doubt it?"

"Not I!" I answered quickly. "I doubt nothing!"

Heliobas smiled gravely. 

"You are right!" he said. "Doubt is the destroyer of beauty--the poisonin the sweet cup of existence--the curse which mankind have brought onthemselves. Avoid it as you would the plague. Believe in anything oreverything miraculous and glorious--the utmost reach of your faith canwith difficulty grasp the majestic reality and perfection of everythingyou can see, desire, or imagine. Mistrust that volatile thing calledHuman Reason, which is merely a name for whatever opinion we happen toadopt for the time--it is a thing which totters on its throne in a fitof rage or despair--there is nothing infinite about it. Guide yourselfby the delicate Spiritual Instinct within you, which tells you thatwith God all things are possible, save that He cannot destroy Himselfor lessen by one spark the fiery brilliancy of his ever-widening circleof productive Intelligence. But make no attempt to convert the world toyour way of thinking--it would be mere waste of time. "

"May I never try to instruct anyone in these things?" I asked. 

"You can try, if you choose; but you will find most human beings likethe herd of swine in the Gospel, possessed by devils that drive themheadlong into the sea. You know, for instance, that angels and aerialspirits actually exist; but were you to assert your belief in them, philosophers (so-called) would scout your theories as absurd, --thoughtheir idea of a LONELY God, who yet is Love, is the very acme ofabsurdity. For Love MUST have somewhat to love, and MUST create thebeauty and happiness round itself and the things beloved. But why pointout these simple things to those who have no desire to see? Be content, child, that YOU have been deemed worthy of instruction--it is a higherfate for you than if you had been made a Queen. "

The little page now entered, and told me that the carriage was at thedoor in waiting. As he disappeared again after delivering this message, Heliobas rose from his chair, and taking my two hands in his, pressedthem kindly. 

"One word more, little friend, on the subject of your career. I thinkthe time will come when you will feel that music is almost too sacred athing to be given away for money to a careless and promiscuous public. However this may be, remember that scarce one of the self-styledartists who cater for the crowd deserves to be called MUSICIAN in thehighest sense of the word. Most of them seek not music, but money andapplause; and therefore the art they profess is degraded by them into amere trade. But you, when you play in public, must forget that PERSONSwith little vanities and lesser opinions exist. Think of what you sawin your journey with Azul; and by a strong effort of your will, youcan, if you choose, COMPEL certain harmonies to sound in yourears--fragments of what is common breathing air to the Children of theRing, some of whom you saw--and you will be able to reproduce them inpart, if not in entirety. But if you once admit a thought of Self toenter your brain, those aerial sounds will be silenced instantly. Bythis means, too, you can judge who are the true disciples of music inthis world--those who, like Schubert and Chopin, suffered theheaven-born melodies to descend THROUGH them as though they were mereconductors of sound; or those who, feebly imitating other composers, measure out crotchets and quavers by rule and line, and flood the worldwith inane and perishable, and therefore useless, productions. Andnow, --farewell. "

"Do you remain in Paris?" I asked. 

"For a few days only. I shall go to Egypt, and in travelling accustommyself to the solitude in which I must dwell, now Zara has left me. "

"You have Azul, " I ventured to remark. 

"Ah! but how often do I see her? Only when my soul for an instant isclear from all earthly and gross obstruction; and how seldom I canattain to this result while weighted with my body! But she is nearme--that I know--faithful as the star to the mariner's compass!"

He raised his head as he spoke, and his eyes flashed. Never had I seenhim look more noble or kingly. The inspired radiance of his facesoftened down into his usual expression of gentleness and courtesy, andhe said, offering me his arm:

"Let me see you to the carriage. You know, it is not an actual partingwith us--I intend that we shall meet frequently. For instance, the nexttime we exchange pleasant greetings will be in Italy. "

I suppose I looked surprised; I certainly felt so, for nothing wasfurther from my thoughts than a visit to Italy. 

Heliobas smiled, and said in a tone that was almost gay:

"Shall I draw the picture for you? I see a fair city, deep embowered inhills and sheltered by olive-groves. Over it beams a broad sky, deeplyblue; many soft bells caress the summer air. Away in the Cascine Woodsa gay party of people are seated on the velvety moss; they havemandolins, and they sing for pure gaiety of heart. One of them, a womanwith fair hair, arrayed in white, with a red rose at her bosom, isgathering the wild flowers that bloom around her, and weaving them intoposies for her companions. A stranger, pacing slowly, book in hand, through the shady avenue, sees her--her eyes meet his. She springs upto greet him; he takes her hand. The woman is yourself; the stranger noother than your poor friend, who now, for a brief space, takes leave ofyou!"

So rapidly had he drawn up this picture, that the impression made on mewas as though a sudden vision had been shown to me in a magic glass. Ilooked at him earnestly. 

"Then our next meeting will be happy?" I said inquiringly. 

"Of course. Why not? And the next--and the next after that also!" heanswered. 

At this reply, so frankly given, I was relieved, and accompanied himreadily through the hall towards the street-door. Leo met us here, andintimated, as plainly as a human being could have done, his wish to bidme good-bye. I stooped and kissed his broad head and patted himaffectionately, and was rewarded for these attentions by seeing hisplume-like tail wave slowly to and fro--a sign of pleasure the pooranimal had not betrayed since Zara's departure from the scene of herearthly imprisonment. 

At the door the pretty Greek boy handed me a huge basket of theloveliest flowers. 

"The last from the conservatory, " said Heliobas. "I shall need no moreof these luxuries. "

As I entered the carriage he placed the flowers beside me, and againtook my hand. 

"Good-bye, my child!" he said, in earnest and kindly tones. "I haveyour address, and will write you all my movements. In any trouble, small or great, of your own, send to me for advice without hesitation. I can tell you already that I foresee the time when you will resignaltogether the precarious and unsatisfactory life of a mereprofessional musician. You think no other career would be possible toyou? Well, you will see! A few months will decide all. Good-bye again;God bless you!"

The carriage moved off, and Heliobas stood on the steps of his mansionwatching it out of sight. To the last I saw his stately figure erect inthe light of the winter sunshine--a figure destined from henceforth tooccupy a prominent position in my life and memory. The regret I felt atparting from him was greatly mitigated by the assurance he gave me ofour future meeting, a promise which has since been fulfilled, and islikely soon to be fulfilled again. That I have such a friend is anadvantageous circumstance for me, for through his guidance I am able tojudge accurately of many things occurring in the course of the dailylife around me--things which, seemingly trivial, are the hints ofserious results to come, which, I am thus permitted in part to foresee. There is a drawback, of course, and the one bitter drop in the cup ofknowledge is, that the more I progress under the tuition of Heliobas, the less am I deceived by graceful appearances. I perceive with almostcruel suddenness the true characters of all those whom I meet. No smileof lip or eye can delude me into accepting mere surface-matter for realdepth, and it is intensely painful for me to be forced to beholdhypocrisy in the expression of the apparently devout--sensuality in theface of some radiantly beautiful and popular woman--vice under the maskof virtue--self-interest in the guise of friendship, and spite andmalice springing up like a poisonous undergrowth beneath the words ofelegant flattery or dainty compliment. I often wish I could throw arose-coloured mist of illusion over all these things and still moreearnestly do I wish I could in a single instance find myself mistaken. But alas! the fatal finger of the electric instinct within me pointsout unerringly the flaw in every human diamond, and writes "SHAM"across many a cunningly contrived imitation of intelligence andgoodness. Still, the grief I feel at this is counterbalanced in part bythe joy with which I quickly recognize real virtue, real nobility, reallove; and when these attributes flash out upon me from the faces ofhuman beings, my own soul warms, and I know I have seen a vision as ofangels. The capability of Heliobas to foretell future events proveditself in his knowledge of the fate of the famous English hero, Gordon, long before that brave soldier met his doom. At the time the EnglishGovernment sent him out on his last fatal mission, a letter fromHeliobas to me contained the following passage:

"I see Gordon has chosen his destiny and the manner of his death. Twoways of dying have been offered him--one that is slow, painful, andinglorious; the other sudden, and therefore sweeter to a man of histemperament. He himself is perfectly aware of the approaching end ofhis career; he will receive his release at Khartoum. England willlament over him for a little while, and then he will be declared aninspired madman, who rushed recklessly on his own doom; while those whoallowed him to be slain will be voted the wisest, the most just andvirtuous in the realm. "

This prophecy was carried out to the letter, as I fully believe certainthings of which I am now informed will also be fulfilled. But thoughthere are persons who pin their faith on "Zadkiel, " I doubt if thereare any who will believe in such a thing as ELECTRIC DIVINATION. Theone is mere vulgar imposture, the other is performed on a purelyscientific basis in accordance with certain existing rules andprinciples; yet I think there can be no question as to which of the twothe public en masse is likely to prefer. On the whole, people do notmind being deceived; they hate being instructed, and the trouble ofthinking for themselves is almost too much for them. Therefore"Zadkiel" is certain to flourish for many and many a long day, whilethe lightning instinct of prophecy dormant in every human being remainsunused and utterly forgotten except by the rare few. 

 * * * * *

I have little more to say. I feel that those among my readers who idlyturn over these pages, expecting to find a "NOVEL" in the trueacceptation of the term, may be disappointed. My narrative is simply an"experience:" but I have no wish to persuade others of the centraltruth contained in it--namely, THE EXISTENCE OF POWERFUL ELECTRICORGANS IN EVERY HUMAN BEING, WHICH WITH PROPER CULTIVATION ARE CAPABLEOF MARVELLOUS SPIRITUAL FORCE. The time is not yet ripe for this factto be accepted. 

The persons connected with this story may be dismissed in a few words. When I joined my friend Mrs. Everard, she was suffering from nervoushysteria. My presence had the soothing effect Heliobas had assured meof, and in a very few days we started from Paris in company forEngland. She, with her amiable and accomplished husband, went back tothe States a few months since to claim an immense fortune, which theyare now enjoying as most Americans enjoy wealth. Amy has diamonds toher heart's content, and toilettes galore from Worth's; but she has nochildren, and from the tone of her letters to me, I fancy she wouldpart with one at least of her valuable necklaces to have a small pairof chubby arms round her neck, and a soft little head nestling againsther bosom. 

Raffaello Cellini still lives and works; his paintings are among themarvels of modern Italy for their richness and warmth of colour--colourwhich, in spite of his envious detractors, is destined to last throughages. He is not very rich, for he is one of those who give away theirsubstance to the poor and the distressed; but where he is known he isuniversally beloved. None of his pictures have yet been exhibited inEngland, and he is in no hurry to call upon the London critics fortheir judgment. He has been asked several times to sell his largepicture, "Lords of our Life and Death, " but he will not. I have nevermet him since our intercourse at Cannes, but I hear of him frequentlythrough Heliobas, who has recently forwarded me a proof engraving ofthe picture "L'Improvisatrice, " for which I sat as model. It is abeautiful work of art, but that it is like ME I am not vain enough toadmit. I keep it, not as a portrait of myself, but as a souvenir of theman through whose introduction I gained the best friend I have. 

News of Prince Ivan Petroffsky reaches me frequently. He is possessorof the immense wealth foretold by Heliobas; the eyes of Societygreedily follows his movements; his name figures conspicuously in the"Fashionable Intelligence;" and the magnificence of his recent marriagefestivities was for some time the talk of the Continent. He has marriedthe only daughter of a French Duke--a lovely creature, as soulless andheartless as a dressmaker's stuffed model; but she carries his jewelswell on her white bosom, and receives his guests with as much dignityas a well-trained major-domo. These qualities suffice to satisfy herhusband at present; how long his satisfaction will last is anothermatter. He has not quite forgotten Zara; for on every recurring Jourdes Morts, or Feast of the Dead, he sends a garland or cross of flowersto the simple grave in Pere-la-Chaise. Heliobas watches his career withuntiring vigilance; nor can I myself avoid taking a certain interest inthe progress of his fate. At the moment I write he is one of the mostenvied and popular noblemen in all the Royal Courts of Europe; and noone thinks of asking him whether he is happy. He MUST be happy, saysthe world; he has everything that is needed to make him so. Everything?yes--all except one thing, for which he will long when the shadow ofthe end draws near. 

And now what else remains? A brief farewell to those who have perusedthis narrative, or a lingering parting word?

In these days of haste and scramble, when there is no time for faith, is there time for sentiment? I think not. And therefore there shall benone between my readers and me, save this--a friendly warning. Belief--belief in God--belief in all things noble, unworldly, lofty, and beautiful, is rapidly being crushed underfoot by--what? By merelust of gain! Be sure, good people, be very sure that you are RIGHT indenying God for the sake of man--in abjuring the spiritual for thematerial--before you rush recklessly onward. The end for all of you canbe but death; and are you quite positive after all that there is NOHereafter? Is it sense to imagine that the immense machinery of theUniverse has been set in motion for nothing? Is it even common reasonto consider that the Soul of man, with all its high musings, its dreamsof unseen glory, its longings after the Infinite, is a mere uselessvapour, or a set of shifting molecules in a perishable brain? The merefact of the EXISTENCE OF A DESIRE clearly indicates an EQUALLY EXISTINGCAPACITY for the GRATIFICATION of that desire; therefore, I ask, wouldthe WISH for a future state of being, which is secretly felt by everyone of us, have been permitted to find a place in our natures, IF THEREWERE NO POSSIBLE MEANS OF GRANTING IT? Why all this discontent with thepresent--why all this universal complaint and despair andworld-weariness, if there be NO HEREAFTER? For my own part, I have toldyou frankly WHAT I HAVE SEEN and WHAT I KNOW; but I do not ask you tobelieve me. I only say, IF--IF you admit to yourselves the possibilityof a future and eternal state of existence, would it not be well foryou to inquire seriously how you are preparing for it in these wilddays? Look at society around you, and ask yourselves: Whither is our"PROGRESS" tending--Forward or Backward--Upward or Downward? Which way?Fight the problem out. Do not glance at it casually, or put it away asan unpleasant thought, or a consideration involving too muchtrouble--struggle with it bravely till you resolve it, and whatever theanswer may be, ABIDE BY IT. If it leads you to deny God and theimmortal destinies of your own souls, and you find hereafter, when itis too late, that both God and immortality exist, you have onlyyourselves to blame. We are the arbiters of our own fate, and that factis the most important one of our lives. Our WILL is positivelyunfettered; it is a rudder put freely into our hands, and with it wecan steer WHEREVER WE CHOOSE. God will not COMPEL our love orobedience. We must ourselves DESIRE to love and obey--DESIRE IT ABOVEALL THINGS IN THE WORLD. 

As for the Electric Origin of the Universe, a time is coming whenscientific men will acknowledge it to be the only theory of Creationworthy of acceptance. All the wonders of Nature are the result of LIGHTAND HEAT ALONE--i. E. , are the work of the Electric Ring I haveendeavoured to describe, which MUST go on producing, absorbing andreproducing worlds, suns and systems for ever and ever. The Ring, inits turn, is merely the outcome of God's own personality--theatmosphere surrounding the World in which He has His existence--a Worldcreated by Love and for Love alone. I cannot force this theory onpublic attention, which is at present claimed by various learnedprofessors, who give ingenious explanations of "atoms" and "molecules;"yet, even regarding these same "atoms, " the mild question may be put:Where did the FIRST "atom" come from? Some may answer: "We call thefirst atom GOD. " Surely it is as well to call Him a Spirit of pureLight as an atom? However, the fact of one person's being convinced ofa truth will not, I am aware, go very far to convince others. I haverelated my "experience" exactly as it happened at the time, and myreaders can accept or deny the theories of Heliobas as they please. Neither denial, acceptance, criticism, nor incredulity can affect MEpersonally, inasmuch as I am not Heliobas, but simply the narrator ofan episode connected with him; and as such, my task is finished. 

APPENDIX. 

[In publishing these selections from letters received concerning the"Romance, " I am in honour bound not to disclose the names of mycorrespondents, and this necessary reticence will no doubt induce theincredulous to declare that they are not genuine epistles, but mereinventions of my own. I am quite prepared for such a possibleaspersion, and in reply, I can but say that I hold the originals in mypossession, and that some of them have been read by my friend Mr. George Bentley, under whose auspices this book has been successfullylaunched on the sea of public favour. I may add that my correspondentsare all strangers to me personally--not one of them have I ever met. Afew have indeed asked me to accord them interviews, but this request Iinvariably deny, not wishing to set myself forward in any way as anexponent of high doctrine in which I am as yet but a beginner andstudent. --AUTHOR. ]

LETTER I. 

"DEAR MADAM, "You must receive so many letters that I feel it is almost a shame toadd to the number, but I cannot resist writing to tell you how verymuch your book, 'The Romance of Two Worlds, ' has helped me. My dearfriend Miss F----, who has written to you lately I believe, first readit to me, and I cannot tell you what a want in my life it seemed tofill up. I have been always interested in the so-called Supernatural, feeling very conscious of depths in my own self and in others that areusually ignored. ... I have been reading as many books as I couldobtain upon Theosophy, but though thankful for the high thoughts Ifound in them, I still felt a great want--that of combining this occultknowledge with my own firm belief in the Christian religion. Your bookseemed to give me just what I wanted--IT HAS DEEPENED AND STRENGTHENEDMY BELIEF IN AND LOVE TO GOD AND HAS MADE THE NEW TESTAMENT A NEW BOOKTO ME. Things which I could not understand before seem clear in thelight which your 'Vision' has thrown upon them, and I cannot remainsatisfied without expressing to you my sincere gratitude. May your bookbe read by all who are ready to receive the high truths that itcontains! With thanks, I remain, dear Madam, "Yours sincerely, M. S. "

LETTER II. 

"MADAM, "I am afraid you will think it very presumptuous of a stranger toaddress you, but I have lately read your book, 'A Romance of TwoWorlds, ' and have been much struck with it. It has opened my mind tosuch new impressions, and seems to be so much what I have been gropingfor so long, that I thought if you would be kind enough to answer this, I might get a firmer hold on those higher things and be at anchor atlast. If you have patience to read so far, you will imagine I must bevery much in earnest to intrude myself on you like this, but from thetone of your book I do not believe you would withdraw your hand whereyou could do good. ... I never thought of or read of the electric force(or spirit) in every human being before, but I do believe in it afterreading your book, and YOU HAVE MADE THE NEXT WORLD A LIVING THING TOME, and raised my feelings above the disappointments and trials of thislife. ... Your book was put into my hands at a time when I was deeplydistressed and in trouble about my future; but you have shown me howsmall a thing this future of OUR life is. ... Would it be asking toomuch of you to name any books you think might help me in this new veinof thought you have given me? Apologizing for having written, believeme yours sincerely, "B. W. L. "

[I answered to the best of my ability the writer of the above, andlater on received another letter as follows:]

"Forgive my writing to you again on the subject of your 'Romance, ' butI read it so often and think of it so much. I cannot say the wonderfulchange your book has wrought in my life, and though very likely you areconstantly hearing of the good it has done, yet it cannot but be thesweetest thing you can hear--that the seed you have planted is bringingforth so much fruit. ... The Bible is a new book to me since your workcame into my hands. "

LETTER III. 

[The following terribly pathetic avowal is from a clergyman of theChurch of England: ]

"MADAM, "Your book, the 'Romance of Two Worlds, ' has stopped me on the brink ofwhat is doubtless a crime, and yet I had come to think it the only wayout of impending madness. I speak of self-destruction--suicide. Andwhile writing the word, I beg of you to accept my gratitude for thetimely rescue of my soul. Once I believed in the goodness of God--butof late years the cry of modern scientific atheism, 'There is NO God, 'has rung in my ears till my brain has reeled at the desolation andnothingness of the Universe. No good, no hope, no satisfaction inanything--this world only with all its mockery and failure--andafterwards annihilation! Could a God design and create so poor andcruel a jest? So I thought--and the misery of the thought was more thanI could bear. I had resolved to make an end. No one knew, no oneguessed my intent, till one Sunday afternoon a friend lent me yourbook. I began to read, and never left it till I had finished the lastpage--then I knew I was saved. Life smiled again upon me in consolingcolours, and I write to tell you that whatever other good your work maydo and is no doubt doing, you have saved both the life and reason ofone grateful human being. If you will write to me a few lines I shallbe still more grateful, for I feel you can help me. I seem to have readChrist's mission wrong--but with patience and prayer it is possible toredeem my error. Once more thanking you, I am, "Yours with more thankfulness than I can write, "L. E. F. "

[I lost no time in replying to this letter, and since then havefrequently corresponded with the writer, from whose troubled mind thedark cloud has now entirely departed. And I may here venture to remarkthat the evils of "modern scientific atheism" are far more widelyspread and deeply rooted than the majority of persons are aware of, andthat many of the apparently inexplicable cases of self-slaughter onwhich the formal verdict, "Suicide during a state of temporaryinsanity, " is passed, have been caused by long and hopeless brooding onthe "nothingness of the Universe"--which, if it were a true theory, would indeed make of Creation a bitter, nay, even a senseless jest. Thecruel preachers of such a creed have much to answer for. The murdererwho destroys human life for wicked passion and wantonness is lesscriminal than the proudly learned, yet egotistical, and thereforedensely ignorant scientist, who, seeking to crush the soul by hisfeeble, narrow-minded arguments, and deny its imperishable nature, dares to spread his poisonous and corroding doctrines of despairthrough the world, draining existence of all its brightness, andstriving to erect barriers of distrust between the creature and theCreator. No sin can be greater than this; for it is impossible toestimate the measure of evil that may thus be brought into otherwiseinnocent and happy lives. The attitude of devotion and faith is naturalto Humanity, while nothing can be more UNnatural and disastrous tocivilization, morality and law, than deliberate and determinedAtheism. --AUTHOR. ]

LETTER IV. 

"DEAR MADAM, "I dare say you have had many letters, but I must add mine to thenumber to thank you for your book, the 'Romance of Two Worlds. ' I amdeeply interested in the wonderful force we possess, all in a greateror lesser degree--call it influence, electricity, or what you will. Ihave thought much on Theosophy and Psychical Research--but what struckme in your book was the glorious selflessness inculcated and theperfect Majesty of the Divinity clear throughout--no sweeping away ofthe Crucified One. I felt a better woman for the reading of it twice:and I know others, too, who are higher and better women for such noblethoughts and teaching. ... People for the most part dream away theirlives; one meets so few who really believe in electrical affinity, andI have felt it so often and for so long. Forgive my troubling you withthis letter, but I am grateful for your labour of love towards raisingmen and women. 

"Sincerely yours, "R. H. "

LETTER V. 

"I should like to know if Marie Corelli honestly believes the theorywhich she enunciates in her book, 'The Romance of Two Worlds:' and alsoif she has any proof on which to found that same theory?--if so, theauthoress will greatly oblige an earnest seeker after Truth if she willgive the information sought to

"A. S. "

[I sent a brief affirmative answer to the above note; the "proof" ofthe theories set forth in the "Romance" is, as I have already stated, easily to be found in the New Testament. But there are those who do notand will not believe the New Testament, and for them there are no"proofs" of any existing spirituality in earth or heaven. "Having eyesthey see not, and hearing they do not understand. "--AUTHOR. ]

LETTER VI. 

"DEAR MADAM, "I have lately been reading with intense pleasure your 'Romance of TwoWorlds, ' and I must crave your forbearance towards me when I tell youthat it has filled me with envy and wonder. I feel sure that manypeople must have plied you with questions on the subject already, but Iam certain that you are too earnest and too sympathetic to feel boredby what is in no sense idle curiosity, but rather a deep and genuinelonging to know the truth. ... To some minds it would prove such acomfort and such, a relief to have their vague longings and beliefsconfirmed and made tangible, and, as you know, at the present dayso-called Religion, which is often a mere mixture of dogma andsuperstition, is scarcely sufficient to do this. ... I might say agreat deal more and weary your patience, which has already been tried, I fear. But may I venture to hope that you have some words of comfortand assurance out of your own experience to give me? With yourexpressed belief in the good influence which each may exert over theother, not to speak of a higher and holier incentive in the example ofOne (in whom you also believe) who bids us for His sake to 'Bear oneanother's burdens, ' you cannot, I think, turn away in impatience fromthe seeking of a very earnest soul. 

"Yours sincerely, "B. D. "

[I have received about fifty letters written in precisely the same toneas the above--all more or less complaining of the insufficiency of"so-called Religion, which is often a mere mixture of dogma andsuperstition"--and I ask--What are the preachers of Christ's clearmessage about that there should be such plaintively eager anxious soulsas these, who are evidently ready and willing to live noble lives ifhelped and encouraged ever so little? Shame on those men who presume totake up the high vocation of the priesthood for the sake of self-love, self-interest, worldly advancement, money or position! These things arenot among Christ's teachings. If there are members of the clergy whocan neither plant faith, nor consolation, nor proper comprehension ofGod's infinite Beauty and Goodness in the hearts of their hearers, Isay that their continuance in such sacred office is an offence to theMaster whom they profess to serve. "It must needs be that offencescome, but woe to that man by whom the offence cometh!" To such may beaddressed the words, "Hypocrites! for ye shut up the kingdom of heavenagainst men; ye neither go in yourselves, neither suffer ye them thatare entering to go in. "--AUTHOR. ]

LETTER VII. 

"MADAM, "I hope you will not think it great presumption my writing to you. Myexcuse must be that I so much want to believe in he great Spirit that'makes for righteousness, ' and I cannot! Your book puts it all soclearly that if I can only know it to be a true experience of your own, it will go a long way in dispersing the fog that modern writingssurround one with. ... 

"Apologizing for troubling you, I am faithfully yours, "C. M. E. "

LETTER VIII. 

"MADAM, "I trust you will pardon the liberty I take in writing to you. Myexcuse must be the very deep interest your book, 'A Romance of TwoWorlds, ' has excited in me. I, of course, understand that the STORYitself is a romance, but in reading it carefully it seems to me that itis a book written with a purpose. ... The Electric Creed respectingReligion seems to explain so much in Scripture which has always seemedto me impossible to accept blindly without explanation of any kind; andthe theory that Christ came to die and to suffer for us as an Exampleand a means of communication with God, and not as a SACRIFICE, clearsup a point which has always been to me personally a stumbling-block. Icannot say how grateful I shall be if you can tell me any means ofstudying this subject further; and trusting you will excuse me fortroubling you, I am, Madam, "Yours truly, "H. B. "

[Once more I may repeat that the idea of a sacrifice to appease God'sanger is purely JEWISH, and has nothing whatever to do withChristianity according to Christ. He Himself says, "I am the WAY, theTruth, and the Life; no man cometh to the Father but BY ME. " Surelythese words are plain enough, and point unmistakably to a MEANS OFCOMMUNICATION through Christ between the Creator and this world. Nowhere does the Divine Master say that God is so furiously angry thathe must have the bleeding body of his own messenger, Christ, hung upbefore Him as a human sacrifice, as though He could only be pacified bythe scent of blood! Horrible and profane idea! and one utterly atvariance with the tenderness and goodness of "Our Father" as picturedby Christ in these gentle words--"Fear not, little flock; it is yourFather's good pleasure to give you the Kingdom. " Whereas that Christshould come to draw us closer to God by the strong force of His ownDivinity, and by His Resurrection prove to us the reality of the nextlife, is not at all a strange or ungodlike mission, and ought to makeus understand more surely than ever how infinitely pitying andforbearing is the All-Loving One, that He should, as it were, with suchextreme affection show us a way by which to travel through darknessunto light. To those who cannot see this perfection of goodnessdepicted in Christ's own words, I would say in the terse Oriental maxim:

 "Diving, and finding no pearls in the sea, Blame not the ocean, the fault is in THEE. " AUTHOR. ]

LETTER IX. 

"DEAR MADAM, "I have lately been reading your remarkable book, 'A Romance of TwoWorlds, ' and I feel that I must write to you about it. I have neverviewed Christianity in the broadly transfigured light you throw uponit, and I have since been studying carefully the four Gospels andcomparing them with the theories in your book. The result has been acomplete and happy change in my ideas of religion, and I feel now as ifI had, like a leper of old, touched the robe of Christ and been healedof a long-standing infirmity. Will you permit me to ask if you haveevolved this new and beneficent lustre from the Gospel yourself? orwhether some experienced student in mystic matters has been yourinstructor? I hear from persons who have seen you that you are quiteyoung, and I cannot understand how one of your sex and age seems ableso easily to throw light on what to many has been, and is still, impenetrable darkness. I have been a preacher for some years, and Ithought the Testament was old and familiar to me; but you have made ita new and marvellous book full of most precious meanings, and I hope Imay be able to impart to those whom it is my duty to instruct, something of the great consolation and hope your writing has filled mewith. 

"Believe me, "Gratefully yours, "T. M. "

LETTER X. 

"MADAM, "Will you tell me what ground you have for the foundation of thereligious theory contained in your book, 'A Romance of Two Worlds'? Isit a part of your own belief? I am MOST anxious to know this, and I amsure you will be kind enough to answer me. Till I read your book Ithought myself an Agnostic, but now I am not quite sure of this. I donot believe in the Deity as depicted by the Churches. I CANNOT. Overand over again I have asked myself--If there is a God, why should He beangry? It would surely be easy for Him to destroy this world entirelyas one would blow away an offending speck of dust, and it would be muchbetter and BRAVER for Him to do this than to torture His creation. ForI call life a torture and certainly a useless and cruel torture if itis to end in annihilation. I know I seem to be blasphemous in theseremarks, yet if you only knew what I suffer sometimes! I desire, I LONGto believe. YOU seem so certain of your Creed--a Creed so noble, reasonable and humane--the God you depict so worthy of the adoration ofa Universe. I BEG of you to tell me--DO you feel sure of thisbeneficent all-pervading Love concerning which you write so eloquently?I do not wish to seem an intruder on your most secret thought. I wantto believe that YOU believe--and if I felt this, the tenor of my wholelife might change. Help me if you can--I stand in real need of help. You may judge I am very deeply in earnest, or I should not have writtento you. 

"Yours faithfully, "A. W. L. "

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Of such letters as these I have received enough to make a volume ofthemselves; but I think the ten I have selected are sufficient to showhow ardent and inextinguishable is the desire or STRAINING UPWARD, likea flower to the light, of the human Soul for those divine things whichnourish it. Scarcely a day passes without my receiving more of theseearnest and often pathetic appeals for a little help, a little comfort, a little guidance, enough to make one's heart ache at the thought of somuch doubt and desolation looming cloud-like over the troubled minds ofmany who would otherwise lead not only happy but noble and usefullives. When will the preachers learn to preach Christ simply--Christwithout human dogmas or differences? When shall we be able to enter abuilding set apart for sacred worship--a building of finestarchitectural beauty, "glorious without and within, " like the "King'sDaughter" of David's psalm--glorious with, light, music, flowers, andart of the noblest kind (for Art is God's own inspiration to men, andthrough it He should be served), there to hear the pure, unselfishdoctrine of Christ as He Himself preached it? For such a temple, thetime has surely come--a nook sacred to God, and untainted by the breathof Mammon, where we could adore our Creator "in spirit and in truth. "The evils of nineteenth-century cynicism and general flippancy ofthought--great evils as they are and sure prognostications of worseevils to come--cannot altogether crush out the Divine flame burning inthe "few" that are "chosen, " though these few are counted as fools anddreamers. Yet they shall be proved wise and watchful ere long. Thesigns of the times are those that indicate an approaching greatupheaval and change in human destinies. This planet we call ours is insome respects like ourselves: it was born; it has had its infancy, itsyouth, its full prime; and now its age has set in, and with age thefirst beginnings of decay. Absorbed once more into the Creative CircleIT MUST BE; and when again thrown forth among its companion-stars, ourrace will no more inhabit it. We shall have had our day--our littlechance--we shall have lost or won. Christ said, "This generation shallnot pass away till all My words be fulfilled, " the word "generation"thus used meaning simply the human race. We put a very narrow limit tothe significance of the Saviour's utterance when we imagine that thegeneration He alluded to implied merely the people living in His ownday. In the depths of His Divine wisdom He was acquainted with all thesecrets of the Past and Future; He had no doubt seen this very worldpeopled by widely different beings to ourselves, and knew that what wecall the human race is only a passing tribe permitted for a time tosojourn here. What a strangely presumptuous idea is that which pervadesthe minds of the majority of persons--namely, that Mankind, as we knowit, must be the highest form of creation, simply because it is thehighest form WE can see! How absurd it is to be so controlled by ourlimited vision, when we cannot even perceive the minute wonders that abutterfly beholds, or pierce the sunlit air with anything like thefacility possessed by the undazzled eyes of an upward-soaring bird!Nay, we cannot examine the wing of a common house-fly without the aidof a microscope--to observe the facial expression of our own actors onthe stage we look through opera-glasses--to form any idea of thewonders of the stars we construct telescopes to assist our feeble andeasily deluded sight; and yet--yet we continue to parcel out theinfinite gradations of creative Force and Beauty entirely to suit ourown private opinions, and conclude that WE are the final triumph of theDivine Artist's Supreme Intelligence! Alas! in very truth we are asorry spectacle both to our soberly thinking selves and the HigherPowers, invited, as it were, to spend our life's brief day in one ofGod's gardens as His friends and guests, who certainly are not expectedto abuse their Host's hospitality, and, ignoring Him, call themselvesthe owners and masters of the ground! For we are but wanderers beneaththe sun; a "generation" which must most surely and rapidly "pass away"to make room for another; and as the work of the Universe is alwaysprogressive, that other will be of nobler capacity and largeraccomplishment. So while we are here, let us think earnestly of the fewbrief chances remaining to us--they grow fewer every hour. On one sideis the endless, glorious heritage of the purely aspiring, ImmortalSpirit; on the other the fleeting Mirage of this our present Existence;and, midway between the two, the swinging pendulum of HUMAN WILL, whichdecides our fate. God does not choose for us, or compel our love--weare free to fashion out our own futures; but in making our final choicewe cannot afford to waste one moment of our precious, unreturning time. 

MARIE CORELLI.