ZICCI

 A Tale

 By Edward Bulwer-Lytton

 BOOK 2. 

CHAPTER X. 

Merton and the Italians arrived in safety at the spot where they hadleft the mules; and not till they had recovered their own alarm andbreath did they think of Glyndon. But then, as the minutes passed andhe appeared not, Merton--whose heart was as good, at least, as humanhearts are in general--grew seriously alarmed. He insisted on returningto search for his friend, and by dint of prodigal promises prevailed atlast on the guide to accompany him. The lower part of the mountain laycalm and white in the starlight; and the guide's practised eye coulddiscern all objects on the surface, at a considerable distance. Theyhad not, however, gone very far before they perceived two forms slowlyapproaching towards them. 

As they came near, Merton recognized the form of his friend. "ThankHeaven, he is safe!" he cried, turning to the guide. 

"Holy angels befriend us!" said the Italian, trembling; "behold the verybeing that crossed me last Sabbath night. It is he, but his face ishuman now!"

"Signor Inglese, " said the voice of Zicci as Glyndon, pale, wan, andsilent, returned passively the joyous greeting of Merton, --" SignorInglese, I told your friend we should meet to-night; you see you havenot foiled my prediction. "

"But how, but where?" stammered Merton, in great confusion and surprise. 

"I found your friend stretched on the ground, overpowered by themephitic exhalation of the crater. I bore him to a purer atmosphere;and as I know the mountain well, I have conducted him safely to you. This is all our history. You see, sir, that were it not for thatprophecy which you desired to frustrate, your friend would, ere thistime, have been a corpse; one minute more, and the vapor had done itswork. Adieu! good night and pleasant dreams. "

"But, my preserver, you will not leave us, " said Glyndon, anxiously, andspeaking for the first time. "Will you not return with us?"

Zicci paused, and drew Glyndon aside. "Young man, " said he, gravely, "it is necessary that we should again meet to-night. It is necessarythat you should, ere the first hour of morning, decide on your fate. Will you marry Isabel di Pisani, or lose her forever? Consult not yourfriend; he is sensible and wise, but not now is his wisdom needed. There are times in life when from the imagination, and not the reason, should wisdom come, --this for you is one of them. I ask not your answernow. Collect your thoughts, recover your jaded and scattered spirits. It wants two hours of midnight: at midnight I will be with you!"

"Incomprehensible being, " replied the Englishman, "I would leave thelife you have preserved in your own hands. But since I have known you, my whole nature has changed. A fiercer desire than that of love burnsin my veins, --the desire, not to resemble, but to surpass my kind; thedesire to penetrate and to share the secret of your own existence; thedesire of a preternatural knowledge and unearthly power. Instruct me, school me, make me thine; and I surrender to thee at once, and without amurmur, the woman that, till I saw thee, I would have defied a world toobtain. "

"I ask not the sacrifice, Glyndon, " replied Zicci, coldly, yet mildly, "yet--shall I own it to thee?--I am touched by the devotion I haveinspired. I sicken for human companionship, sympathy, and friendship;yet I dread to share them, for bold must be the man who can partake myexistence and enjoy my confidence. Once more I say to thee, incompassion and in warning, the choice of life is in thy hands, --to-morrow it will be too late. On the one hand, Isabel, a tranquil home, ahappy and serene life; on the other hand all is darkness, darkness thateven this eye cannot penetrate. "

"But thou hast told me that if I wed Isabel I must be contented to beobscure; and if I refuse, that knowledge and power may be mine. "

"Vain man! knowledge and power are not happiness. "

"But they are better than happiness. Say, if I marry Isabel, wilt thoube my master, my guide? Say this, and I am resolved. "

"Never! It is only the lonely at heart, the restless, the desperate, that may be my pupils. "

"Then I renounce her! I renounce love, I renounce happiness. Welcomesolitude, welcome despair, if they are the entrances to thy dark andsublime secret. "

"I will not take thy answer now; at midnight thou shalt give it in oneword, --ay, or no! Farewell till then!"

The mystic waved his hand, and descending rapidly, was seen no more. 

Glyndon rejoined his impatient and wondering friend; but Merton, gazingon his face, saw that a great change had passed there. The flexile anddubious expression of youth was forever gone; the features were locked, rigid, and stern; and so faded was the natural bloom that an hour seemedto have done the work of years. 

CHAPTER, XI. 

On returning from Vesuvius or Pompeii you enter Naples through its mostanimated, its most Neapolitan quarter, through that quarter in whichModern life most closely resembles the Ancient, and in which, when, on afair day, the thoroughfare swarms alike with Indolence and Trade, youare impressed at once with the recollection of that restless, livelyrace from which the population of Naples derives its origin; so that inone day you may see at Pompeii the habitations of a remote age, and onthe Mole at Naples you may imagine you behold the very beings with whichthose habitations had been peopled. The language of words is dead, butthe language of gestures remains little impaired. A fisherman, --peasant, of Naples will explain to you the motions, the attitudes, thegestures of the figures painted on the antique vases better than themost learned antiquary of Gottingen or Leipsic. 

But now, as the Englishmen rode slowly through the deserted streets, lighted but by the lamps of heaven, all the gayety of the day was hushedand breathless. Here and there, stretched under a portico or a dingybooth, were sleeping groups of houseless lazzaroni, --a tribe now happilymerging this indolent individuality amidst an energetic and activepopulation. 

The Englishmen rode on in silence, for Glyndon neither appeared to heedor hear the questions and comments of Merton, and Merton himself wasalmost as weary as the jaded animal he bestrode. 

Suddenly the silence of earth and ocean was broken by the sound of adistant clock, that proclaimed the last hour of night. Glyndon startedfrom his revery, and looked anxiously around. As the final stroke died, the noise of hoofs rang on the broad stones of the pavement, and from anarrow street to the right emerged the form of a solitary horseman. Heneared the Englishmen, and Glyndon recognized the features and mien ofZicci. 

"What! do we meet again, signor?" said Merton, in a vexed but drowsytone. 

"Your friend and I have business together, " replied Zicci, as he wheeledhis powerful and fiery steed to the side of Glyndon; "but it will besoon transacted. Perhaps you, sir, will ride on to your hotel. "

"Alone?"

"There is no danger, " returned Zicci, with a slight expression ofdisdain in his voice. 

"None to me, but to Glyndon?"

"Danger from me? Ah! perhaps you are right. "

"Go on, my dear Merton, " said Glyndon. "I will join you before youreach the hotel. "

Merton nodded, whistled, and pushed his horse into a kind of amble. 

"Now your answer, --quick. "

"I have decided: the love of Isabel has vanished from my heart. Thepursuit is over. "

"You have decided?"

"I have. "

"Adieu! join your friend. "

Zicci gave the rein to his horse; it sprang forward with a bound; thesparks flew from its hoofs, and horse and rider disappeared amidst theshadows of the street whence they had emerged. 

Merton was surprised to see his friend by his side, a minute after theyhad parted. 

"What business can you have with Zicci? Will you not confide in me?"

"Merton, do not ask me to-night; I am in a dream. "

"I do not wonder at it, for even I am in a sleep. Let us push on. "

In the retirement of his chamber, Glyndon sought to recollect histhoughts. He sat down on the foot of his bed and pressed his handstightly to his throbbing temples. The events of the last few hours, theapparition of the gigantic and shadowy Companion of the Mystic amidstthe fires and clouds of Vesuvius, the strange encounter with Ziccihimself on a spot in which he could never have calculated on findingGlyndon, filled his mind with emotions, in which terror and awe theleast prevailed. A fire, the train of which had long been laid, waslighted at his heart, --the asbestos fire that, once lit, is never to bequenched. All his early aspiration, his young ambition, his longingsfor the laurel, were mingled in one passionate yearning to overpass thebounds of the common knowledge of man, and reach that solemn spot, between two worlds, on which the mysterious stranger appeared to havefixed his home. 

Far from recalling with renewed affright the remembrance of theapparition that had so appalled him, the recollection only served tokindle and concentrate his curiosity into a burning focus. He had saidaright, --love had vanished from his heart; there was no longer a serenespace amidst its disordered elements for human affection to move andbreathe. The enthusiast was rapt from this earth; and he would havesurrendered all that beauty ever promised, that mortal hope everwhispered, for one hour with Zicci beyond the portals of the visibleworld. 

He rose, oppressed and fevered with the new thoughts that raged withinhim, and threw open his casement for air. The ocean lay suffused in thestarry light, and the stillness of the heavens never more eloquentlypreached the morality of repose to the madness of earthly passions. Butsuch was Glyndon's mood that their very hush only served to deepen thewild desires that preyed upon his soul. And the solemn stars, that aremysteries in themselves, seemed by a kindred sympathy to agitate thewings of the spirit no longer contented with its cage. As he gazed, astar shot from its brethren and vanished from the depth of space!

CHAPTER XII. 

The sleep of Glyndon that night was unusually profound, and the sunstreamed full upon his eyes as he opened them to the day. He roserefreshed, and with a strange sentiment of calmness, that seemed morethe result of resolution than exhaustion. The incidents and emotions ofthe past night had settled into distinct and clear impressions. Hethought of them but slightly, --he thought rather of the future. He wasas one of the Initiated in the old Egyptian Mysteries, who have crossedthe Gate only to look more ardently for the Penetralia. 

He dressed himself, and was relieved to find that Merton had joined aparty of his countrymen on an excursion to Ischia. He spent the heat ofnoon in thoughtful solitude, and gradually the image of Isabel returnedto his heart. It was a holy--for it was a human--image; he had resignedher, and he repented. The light of day served, if not to dissipate, atleast to sober, the turbulence and fervor of the preceding night. Butwas it indeed too late to retract his resolve? "Too late!" terriblewords! Of what do we not repent, when the Ghost of the Deed returns tous to say, "Thou hast no recall?"

He started impatiently from his seat, seized his hat and sword, andstrode with rapid steps to the humble abode of the actress. 

The distance was considerable, and the air oppressive. Glyndon arrivedat the door breathless and heated. He knocked, no answer came; helifted the latch and entered. No sound, no sight of life, met his earand eye. In the front chamber, on a table, lay the guitar of theactress and some manuscript parts in plays. He paused, and summoningcourage, tapped at the door which seemed to lead into the innerapartment. The door was ajar; and hearing no sound within, he pushed itopen. It was the sleeping chamber of the young actress, --that holiestground to a lover. And well did the place become the presiding deity:none of the tawdry finery of the Profession was visible on the one hand, none of the slovenly disorder common to the humbler classes of the Southon the other. All was pure and simple; even the ornaments were those ofan innocent refinement, --a few books placed carefully on shelves, a fewhalf-faded flowers in an earthen vase which was modelled and painted inthe Etruscan fashion. The sunlight streamed over the snowy draperies ofthe bed, and a few articles of clothing, neatly folded, on the chairbeside it. Isabel was not there; and Glyndon, as he gazed around, observed that the casement which opened to the ground was wrenched andbroken, and several fragments of the shattered glass lay below. Thelight flashed at once upon Glyndon's mind, --the ravisher had borne awayhis prize. The ominous words of Zicci were fulfilled: it was too late!Wretch that he was, perhaps he might have saved her! But the nurse, --was she gone also? He made the house resound with the name of Gionetta, but there was not even an echo to reply. He resolved to repair at onceto the abode of Zicci. On arriving at the palace of the Corsican, hewas informed that the signor was gone to the banquet of the Prince di --, and would not return until late. He turned in dismay from the door, and perceived the heavy carriage of the Count Cetoxa rolling along thenarrow street. Cetoxa recognized him and stopped the carriage. 

"Ah my dear Signor Glyndon, " said he, leaning out of the window, "andhow goes your health? You heard the news?"

"What news?" asked Glyndon, mechanically. 

"Why, the beautiful actress, --the wonder of Naples! I always thoughtshe would have good luck. "

"Well, well, what of her?"

"The Prince di-- has taken a prodigious fancy to her, and has carriedher to his own palace. The Court is a little scandalized. "

"The villain! by force?"

"Force! Ha! ha! my dear signor, what need of force to persuade anactress to accept the splendid protection of one of the wealthiestnoblemen in Italy? Oh, no! you may be sure she went willingly enough. I only just heard the news: the prince himself proclaimed his triumphthis morning, and the accommodating Mascari has been permitted tocirculate it. I hope the connection will not last long, or we shalllose our best singer. Addio!"

Glyndon stood mute and motionless. He knew not what to think, tobelieve, or how to act. Even Merton was not at hand to advise him. Hisconscience smote him bitterly; and half in despair, half in thecourageous wrath of jealousy, he resolved to repair to the palace of theprince himself, and demand his captive in the face of his assembledguests. 

CHAPTER XIII. 

We must go back to the preceding night. The actress and her nurse hadreturned from the theatre; and Isabel, fatigued and exhausted, hadthrown herself on a sofa, while Gionetta busied herself with the longtresses which, released from the fillet that bound them, half concealedthe form of the actress, like a veil of threads of gold; and while shesmoothed the luxuriant locks, the old nurse ran gossiping on about thelittle events of the night, --the scandal and politics of the scenes andthe tire-room. 

The clock sounded the hour of midnight, and still Isabel detained thenurse; for a vague and foreboding fear, she could not account for, madeher seek to protract the time of solitude and rest. 

At length Gionetta's voice was swallowed up in successive yawns. Shetook her lamp and departed to her own room, which was placed in theupper story of the house. Isabel was alone. The half-hour aftermidnight sounded dull and distant, all was still, and she was about toenter her sleeping-room, when she heard the hoofs of a horse at fullspeed. The sound ceased; there was a knock at the door. Her heart beatviolently; but fear gave way to another sentiment when she heard avoice, too well known, calling on her name. She went to the door. 

"Open, Isabel, --it is Zicci, " said the voice again. 

And why did the actress feel fear no more, and why did that virgin handunbar the door to admit, without a scruple or, a doubt, at that latehour, the visit of the fairest cavalier of Naples? I know not; butZicci had become her destiny, and she obeyed the voice of her preserveras if it were the command of Fate. 

Zicci entered with a light and hasty step. His horseman'scloak fitted tightly to his noble form, and the raven plumes of hisbroad hat threw a gloomy shade over his commanding features. 

The girl followed him into the room, trembling and blushing deeply, andstood before him with the lamp she held shining upward on her cheek, andthe long hair that fell like a shower of light over the bare shouldersand heaving bust. 

"Isabel, " said Zicci, in a voice that spoke deep emotion, "I am by thyside once more to save thee. Not a moment is to be lost. Thou must flywith me, or remain the victim of the Prince di --. I would have madethe charge I now undertake another's, --thou knowest I would, thouknowest it; but he is not worthy of thee, the cold Englishman! I throwmyself at thy feet; have trust in me, and fly. "

He grasped her hand passionately as he dropped on his knee, and lookedup into her face with his bright, beseeching eyes. 

"Fly with thee!" said Isabel, tenderly. 

"Thou knowest the penalty, --name, fame, honor, all will be sacrificed ifthou dost not. "

"Then, then, " said the wild girl, falteringly, and turning aside herface, "then I am not indifferent to thee. Thou wouldest not give me toanother; thou lovest me?"

Zicci was silent; but his breast heaved, his cheeks flushed, his eyesdarted dark but impassioned fire. 

"Speak!" exclaimed Isabel, in jealous suspicion of his silence. "Speak, if thou lovest me. "

"I dare not tell thee so; I will not yet say I love thee. "

"Then what matter my fate?" said Isabel, turning pale and shrinking fromhis side. "Leave me; I fear no danger. My life, and therefore myhonor, is in mine own hands. "

"Be not so mad!" said Zicci. "Hark! do you hear the neigh of my steed?It is an alarm that warns us of the approaching peril. Haste, or youare lost. "

"Why do you care for me?" said the girl, bitterly. "Thou hast read myheart; thou knowest that I would fly with thee to the end of the world, if I were but sure of thy love; that all sacrifice of womanhood's reputewere sweet to me, if regarded as the proof and seal of affection. Butto be bound beneath the weight of a cold obligation; to be the beggar onthe eyes of Indifference; to throw myself on one who loves me not, --thatwere indeed the vilest sin of my sex. Ah! Zicci, rather let me die. "

She had thrown back her clustering hair from her face as she spoke; andas she now stood, with her arms drooping mournfully, and her handsclasped together with the proud bitterness of her wayward spirit, givingnew zest and charm to her singular beauty, it was impossible to conceivea sight more irresistible to the senses and the heart. 

"Tempt me not to thine own danger, perhaps destruction, " exclaimedZicci, in faltering accents; "thou canst not dream of what thou wouldestdemand. Come, " and, advancing, he wound his arm round her waist, "come, Isabel! Believe at least in my friendship, my protection--"

"And not thy love, " said the Italian, turning on him her hurried andreproachful eyes. Those eyes met his, and he could not withdraw fromthe charm of their gaze. He felt her heart throbbing beneath his own;her breath came warm upon his cheek. He trembled, --he, the lofty, themysterious Zicci, --who seemed to stand aloof from his race. With a deepand burning sigh he murmured, "Isabel, I love thee!" That beautifulface, bathed in blushes, drooped upon his bosom; and. As he bent down, his lips sought the rosy mouth, --a long and burning kiss. Danger, life, the world were forgotten! Suddenly Zicci tore himself from her. 

"Oh! what have I said? It is gone, --my power to preserve thee, to guardthee, to foresee the storm in thy skies, is gone forever. No matter!Haste, haste; and may love supply the loss of prophecy and power!"

Isabel hesitated no more. She threw her mantle over her shoulders andgathered up her dishevelled hair; a moment, and she was prepared, --whena sudden crash was heard in the inner room. 

"Too late!--fool that I was--too late!" cried Zicci, in a sharp tone ofagony as he hurried to the outer door. He opened it, only to be borneback by the press of armed men. 

Behind, before, escape was cut off. The room literally swarmed with thefollowers of the ravisher, masked, mailed, armed to the teeth. 

Isabel was already in the grasp of two of the myrmidons; her shrieksmote the ear of Zicci. He sprang forward, and Isabel heard his wildcry in a foreign tongue, --the gleam, the clash of swords. She lost hersenses; and when she recovered, she found herself gagged, and in acarriage that was driven rapidly, by the side of a masked and motionlessfigure. The carriage stopped at the portals of a gloomy mansion. Thegates opened noiselessly, a broad flight of steps, brilliantlyillumined, was before her, --she was in the palace of the Prince di --. 

CHAPTER XIV. 

The young actress was led to and left alone in a chamber adorned withall the luxurious and half-Eastern taste that at one time characterizedthe palaces of the great seigneurs of Italy. Her first thought was forZicci, --was he yet living? Had he escaped unscathed the blades of thefoe, --her new treasure, the new light of her life, her lord, at last herlover?

She had short time for reflection. She heard steps approaching thechamber; she drew back. She placed her hand on the dagger that at allhours she wore concealed in her bosom. Living or dead, she would befaithful still to Zicci There was a new motive to the preservation ofhonor. The door opened, and the Prince entered, in a dress thatsparkled with jewels. 

"Fair and cruel one, " said he, advancing, with a half-sneer upon hislip, "thou wilt not too harshly blame the violence of love. " Heattempted to take her hand as he spoke. 

"Nay, " said he, as she recoiled, "reflect that thou art now in the powerof one that never faltered in the pursuit of an object less dear to himthan thou art. Thy lover, presumptuous though he be, is not by to savethee. Mine thou art; but instead of thy master, suffer me to be thyslave. "

"My lord, " said Isabel, with a stern gravity which perhaps the Stage hadconspired with Nature, to bestow upon her, "your boast is in vain. Yourpower, --I am not in your power! Life and death are in my own hands. Iwill not defy, but I do not fear you. I feel--and in some feelings, "added Isabel, with a, solemnity almost thrilling, "there is all thestrength and all the divinity of knowledge--I feel that I am safe evenhere; but you, you, Prince di --, have brought danger to your home andhearth!"

The Neapolitan seemed startled by an earnestness and a boldness he wasbut little prepared for. He was not, however, a man easily intimidatedor deterred from any purpose he had formed; and approaching Isabel, hewas about to reply with much warmth, real or affected, when a, knock washeard at the door of the chamber. The sound was repeated, and thePrince, chafed at the interruption, opened the door and demandedimpatiently who had ventured to disobey his orders and invade hisleisure. Mascari presented himself, pale and agitated. "My lord, " saidhe, in a whisper, "pardon me, but a stranger is below who insists onseeing you; and from some words he let fall, I judged it advisable evento infringe your commands. "

"A stranger, and at this hour! What business can he pretend? Why washe even admitted?"

"He asserts that your life is in imminent danger. The source whence itproceeds he will relate to your Excellency alone. "

The Prince frowned, but his color changed. He mused a moment, and then, re-entering the chamber and advancing towards Isabel, he said, --

"Believe me, fair creature, I have no wish to take advantage of mypower. I would fain trust alone to the gentler authorities ofaffection. Hold yourself queen within these walls more absolutely thanyou have ever enacted that part on the stage. To-night, farewell! Mayyour sleep becalm, and your dreams propitious to my hopes!"

With these words he retired, and in a few moments Isabel was surroundedby officious attendants, whom she at length, with some difficulty, dismissed; and refusing to retire to rest, she spent the night inexamining the chamber, which she found was secured, and in thoughts ofZicci, in whose power she felt an almost preternatural confidence. 

Meanwhile the Prince descended the stairs, and sought the room intowhich the stranger had been shown. 

He found him wrapped from head to foot in a long robe, --half gown, halfmantle, --such as was sometimes worn by ecclesiastics. The face of thisstranger was remarkable; so sunburnt and swarthy were his hues that hemust, apparently, have derived his origin amongst the races of thefarthest East. His--forehead was lofty, and his eyes so penetrating, yet so calm, in their gaze that the Prince shrank from them as we shrinkfrom a questioner who is drawing forth the guiltiest secrets of ourhearts. 

"What would you with me?" asked the Prince, motioning his visitor to aseat. 

"Prince di --, " said the stranger, in a voice deep and sweet, butforeign in its accent, "son of the most energetic and masculine racethat ever applied godlike genius to the service of the Human Will, withits winding wickedness and its stubborn grandeur; descendant of thegreat Visconti, in whose chronicles lies the History of Italy in herpalmy day, and in whose rise was the development of the mightiestintellect ripened by the most relentless ambition, --I come to gaze uponthe last star in a darkening firmament. By this hour to-morrow spaceshall know it not. Man, thy days are cumbered!"

"What means this jargon?" said the Prince, in visible astonishment andsecret awe. "Comest thou to menace me in my own halls, or wouldest thouwarn me of a danger? Art thou some itinerant mountebank, or someunguessed of friend? Speak out, and plainly. What danger threatensme?"

"Zicci!" replied the stranger. 

"Ha! ha!" said the Prince, laughing scornfully; "I half suspected theefrom the first. Thou art, then, the accomplice or the tool of that mostdexterous, but, at present, defeated charlatan. And I suppose thou wilttell me that if I were to release a certain captive I have made, thedanger would vanish and the hand of the dial would be put back?"

"Judge of me as thou wilt, Prince di --. I confess my knowledge ofZicci, --a knowledge shared but by a few, who--But this touches thee not. I would save, therefore I warn thee. Dost thou ask me why? I will tellthee. Canst thou remember to have heard wild tales of thy grandsire, --of his desire for a knowledge that passes that of the schools andcloisters; of a strange man from the East, who was his familiar andmaster in lore, against which the Vatican has from age to age launchedits mimic thunder? Dost thou call to mind the fortunes of thyancestor, --how he succeeded in youth to little but a name; how, after acareer wild and dissolute as thine, he disappeared from Milan, a pauperand a self-exile; how, after years spent none knew in what climes or inwhat pursuits, he again revisited the city where his progenitors hadreigned; how with him came this wise man of the East, the mysticMejnour; how they who beheld him, beheld with amaze and fear that timehad ploughed no furrow on his brow, --that youth seemed fixed as by aspell upon his face and form? Dost thou know that from that hour hisfortunes rose? Kinsmen the most remote died, estate upon estate fellinto the hands of the ruined noble. He allied himself with the royaltyof Austria, he became the guide of princes, the first magnate of Italy. He founded anew the house of which thou art the last lineal upholder, and transferred its splendor from Milan to the Sicilian realms. Visionsof high ambition were then present with him nightly and daily. Had helived, Italy would have known a new dynasty, and the Visconti would havereigned over Magna Graecia. He was a man such as the world rarely sees;he was worthy to be of us, worthy to be the pupil of Mejnour, --whom younow see before you. "

The Prince, who had listened with deep and breathless attention to thewords of his singular guest, started from his seat at his last words. "Impostor!" he cried, "can you dare thus to play with my credulity?Sixty years have passed since my grandsire died; and you, a man youngerapparently than myself, have the assurance to pretend to have been his contemporary! But you have imperfectly learned your tale. You know not, it seems, that my grandsire--wise and illustrious, indeed, in all savehis faith in a charlatan--was found dead in his bed in the very hourwhen his colossal plans were ripe for execution, and that Mejnour wasguilty of his murder?"

"Alas!" answered the stranger, in a voice of great sadness, had he butlistened to Mejnour, had he delayed the last and most perilous ordeal ofdaring wisdom until the requisite training and initiation had beencompleted, your ancestor would have stood with me upon an eminence whichthe waters of Death itself wash everlastingly, but cannot overflow. Your grandsire resisted my fervent prayers, disobeyed my most absolutecommands, and in the sublime rashness of a soul that panted for the lastsecrets, perished, --the victim of his own frenzy. "

"He was poisoned, and Mejnour fled. "

"Mejnour fled not, " answered the stranger, quickly and proudly. 

"Mejnour could not fly from danger, for to him danger is a thing longleft behind. It was the day before the duke took the fatal draughtwhich he believed was to confer on the mortal the immortal boon that, finding my power over him was gone, I abandoned him to his doom. 

"On the night on which your grandsire breathed his last, I wasstanding alone at moonlight on the ruins of Persepolis, --for mywanderings, space hath no obstacle. But a truce with this: I loved yourgrandsire; I would save the last of his race. Oppose not thyself toZicci. Oppose not thyself to thine evil passions. Draw back from theprecipice while there is yet time. In thy front and in thine eyes Idetect some of that diviner glory which belonged to thy race. Thou hastin thee some germs of their hereditary genius, but they are choked up byworse than thy hereditary vices. Recollect, by genius thy house rose, --by vice it ever failed to perpetuate its power. In the laws whichregulate the Universe it is decreed that nothing wicked can long endure. Be wise, and let history warn thee. Thou standest on the verge of twoworlds, --the Past and the Future; and voices from either shriek omen inthy ear. I have done. I bid thee farewell. "

"Not so; thou shalt not quit these walls. I will make experiment of thyboasted power. What ho there! ho!" The Prince shouted; the room wasfilled with his minions. "Seize that man!" he cried, pointing to thespot which had been filled by the form of Mejnour. To his inconceivableamaze and horror, the spot was vacant. The mysterious stranger hadvanished like a dream. 

CHAPTER XV. 

It was the first faint and gradual break of the summer dawn; and two menstood in a balcony overhanging a garden fragrant with the scents of theawakening flowers. The stars had not left the sky, the birds were yetsilent on the boughs; all was still, hushed, and tranquil. But howdifferent the tranquillity of reviving day from the solemn repose ofnight. 

In the music of silence there are a thousand variations. These men, whoalone seemed awake in Naples, were Zicci and the mysterious stranger, who had but an hour or two ago startled the Prince di -- in hisvoluptuous palace. 

"No, " said the latter, "hadst thou delayed the acceptance of the ArchGift until thou hadst attained to the years and passed through all thedesolate bereavements that chilled and scared myself ere my researcheshad made it mine, thou wouldest have escaped the curse of which thoucomplainest now. Thou wouldest not have mourned over the brevity ofhuman affection as compared to the duration of thine own existence, forthou wouldest have survived the very desire and dream of the love ofwoman. Brightest, and but for that error perhaps the loftiest, of thesecret and solemn race that fills up the interval in creation betweenmankind and the demons, age after age wilt thou rue the splendid follywhich made thee ask to carry the beauty and the passions of youth intothe dreary grandeur of earthly immortality. "

"I do not repent, nor shall I, " answered Zicci, coldly. "The transportand the sorrow, so wildly blended, which diversify my doom, are betterthan the calm and bloodless tenor of thy solitary way. Thou, who lovestnothing, hatest nothing, --feelest nothing, and walkest the world withthe noiseless and joyless footsteps of a dream!"

You mistake, " replied he who had owned the name of Mejnour; "though Icare not for love, and am dead to every passion that agitates the sonsof clay, I am not dead to their more serene enjoyments. I have stillleft to me the sublime pleasures of wisdom and of friendship. I carrydown the Stream of the countless years, not the turbulent desires ofyouth, but the calm and spiritual delights of age. Wisely anddeliberately I abandoned youth forever when I separated my lot from men. Let us not envy or reproach each other. I would have saved thisNeapolitan, Zicci (since so it now pleases thee to be called), partlybecause his grandsire was but divided by the last airy barrier from ourown brotherhood, partly because I know that in the man himself lurk theelements of ancestral courage and power, which in earlier life wouldhave fitted him for one of us. Earth holds but few to whom nature hasgiven the qualities that can bear the ordeal! But time and excess, thathave thickened the grosser senses, have blunted the imagination. Irelinquish him to his doom. "

"And still then, Mejnour, you cherish the desire to increase our scantyand scattered host by new converts and allies; Surely, surely, thyexperience might have taught thee that scarcely once in a thousand yearsis born the being who can pass through the horrible gates that lead intothe worlds without. Is not thy path already strewed with thy victims?Do not their ghastly faces of agony and fear, --the blood-stainedsuicide, the raving maniac, --rise before thee and warn what is yet leftto thee of human sympathy from thy insane ambition?"

"Nay, " answered Mejnour, "have I not had success to counterbalancefailure? And can I forego this lofty and august hope, worthy alone ofour high condition, --the hope to form a mighty and numerous race, with aforce and power sufficient to permit them to acknowledge to mankindtheir majestic conquests and dominion; to become the true lords of thisplanet, invaders perchance of others, masters of the inimical andmalignant tribes by which at this moment we are surrounded, --a race thatmay proceed, in their deathless destinies, from stage to stage ofcelestial glory, and rank at last among the nearest ministrants andagents gathered round the Throne of Thrones? What matter a thousandvictims for one convert to our band? And you, Zicci, " continuedMejnour, after a pause, "you, even you, should this affection for amortal beauty that you have dared, despite yourself, to cherish, be morethan a passing fancy; should it, once admitted into your inmost nature, partake of its bright and enduring essence, --even you may brave allthings to raise the beloved one into your equal. Nay, interrupt me not. Can you see sickness menace her, danger hover around, years creep on, the eyes grow dim, the beauty fade, while the heart, youthful still, clings and fastens round your own, --can you see this, and know it isyours to--"

"Cease, " cried Zicci, fiercely. "What is all other fate as compared tothe death of terror? What! when the coldest sage, the most heatedenthusiast, the hardiest warrior, with his nerves of iron, have beenfound dead in their beds, with straining eyeballs and horrent hair, atthe first step of the Dread Progress, thinkest thou that this weakwoman--from whose cheek a sound at the window, the screech of the night-owl, the sight of a drop of blood on a man's sword, would start thecolor--could brave one glance of--Away! the very thought of suchsights for her makes even myself a coward!"

"When you told her you loved her, when you clasped her to your breast, you renounced all power to prophesy her future lot or protect her fromharm. Henceforth to her you are human, and human only. How know you, then, to what you may be tempted? How know you what her curiosity maylearn and her courage brave? But enough of this, --you are bent on yourpursuit?"

"The fiat has gone forth. "

"And to-morrow?"

"To-morrow at this hour our bark will be bounding over yonder ocean, andthe weight of ages will have fallen from my heart! Fool, thou hastgiven up thy youth!"

CHAPTER XVI. 

The Prince di -- was not a man whom Naples could suppose to be addictedto superstitious fancies, neither was the age one in which the belief ofsorcery was prevalent. Still, in the South of Italy there was then, andthere still lingers, a certain spirit of credulity, which may, ever andanon, be visible amidst the boldest dogmas of their philosophers andsceptics. In his childhood the Prince had learned strange tales of theambition, the genius, and the career of his grandsire; and secretly, perhaps influenced by ancestral example, in earlier youth he himself hadfollowed alchemy, not only through her legitimate course, but herantiquated and erratic windings. I have, indeed, been shown in Naples alittle volume blazoned with the arms of the Visconti, and ascribed tothe nobleman I refer to, which treats of alchemy in a spirit halfmocking and half reverential. 

Pleasure soon distracted him from such speculations, and his talents, which were unquestionably great, were wholly perverted to extravagantintrigues or to the embellishment of a gorgeous ostentation withsomething of classic grace. His immense wealth, his imperious pride, his unscrupulous and daring character, made him an object of noinconsiderable fear to a feeble and timid court; and the ministers ofthe indolent government willingly connived at excesses--, which alluredhim at least from ambition. The strange visit and yet more strangedeparture of Mejnour filled the breast of the Neapolitan with awe andwonder, against which all the haughty arrogance and learned scepticismof his maturer manhood combated in vain. The apparition of--Mejnourserved, indeed, to invest Zicci with a character in which the Prince hadnot hitherto regarded him. He felt a strange alarm at the rival he hadbraved, at the foe he had provoked. His night was sleepless, and thenext morning he came to the resolution of leaving Isabel in peace untilafter the banquet of that day, to which he had invited Zicci. He feltas if the death of the mysterious Corsican were necessary for thepreservation of his own life; and if at an earlier period of theirrivalry he had determined on the fate of Zicci, the warnings of--Mejnouronly served to confirm his resolve. 

"We will try if his magic can invent an antidote to the bane, " said he, half aloud and with a gloomy smile, as he summoned Mascari to hispresence. The poison which the Prince, with his own hands, mixed intothe wine intended for his guest was compounded from materials the secretof which had been one of the proudest heir-looms of that able and evilrace which gave to Italy her wisest and fellest tyrants. Its operationwas quick, not sudden; it produced no pain, it left on the form no grimconvulsion, on the skin no purpling spot, to arouse suspicion; you mighthave cut and carved every membrane and fibre of the corpse, but thesharpest eyes of the leech would not have detected the presence of thesubtle life-queller. For twelve hours the victim felt nothing, save ajoyous and elated exhilaration of the blood; a delicious languorfollowed, --the sure forerunner of apoplexy. No lancet then could save!Apoplexy had run much in the families of the enemies of the Visconti!

The hour of the feast arrived, the guests assembled. There were theflower of the Neapolitan seigneurie, --the descendants of the Norman, theTeuton, the Goth; for Naples had then a nobility, but derived it fromthe North, which has indeed been the Nutrix Leonum, the nurse of thelion-hearted chivalry of the world. 

Last of the guests came Zicci, and the crowd gave way as the dazzlingforeigner moved along to the lord of the palace. The Prince greeted himwith a meaning smile, to which Zicci answered by a whisper: "He whoplays with loaded dice does not always win. "

The Prince bit his lip; and Zicci, passing on, seemed deep inconversation with the fawning Mascari. 

"Who is the Prince's heir?" asked the Corsican. 

"A distant relation on the mother's side; with his Excellency dies themale line. "

"Is the heir present at our host's banquet?"

"No; they are not friends. "

"No matter; he will be here to-morrow!"

Mascari stared in surprise; but the signal for the banquet was given, and the guests were marshalled to the board. As was the custom, thefeast took place at midday. It was a long oval hall, the whole of oneside opening by a marble colonnade upon a court or garden, in which theeye rested gratefully upon cool fountains and statues of whitest marble, half sheltered by orange-trees. Every art that luxury could invent togive freshness and coolness to the languid and breezeless heat of theday without (a day on which the breath of the sirocco was abroad) hadbeen called into existence. Artificial currents of air throughinvisible tubes, silken blinds waving to and fro as if to cheat thesenses into the belief of an April wind, and miniature jets d'eau ineach corner of the apartment gave to the Italians the same sense ofexhilaration and comfort (if I may use the word) which the well-drawncurtains and the blazing hearth afford to the children of colder climes. 

The conversation was somewhat more lively and intellectual than iscommon among the languid pleasure-hunters of the South; for the Prince, himself accomplished, sought his acquaintance not only amongst the beauxesprits of his own country, but amongst the gay foreigners who adornedand relieved the monotony of the Neapolitan circles. There were presenttwo or three of the brilliant Frenchmen of the old regime, and theirpeculiar turn of thought and wit was well calculated for the meridian ofa society that made the dolce far niente at once its philosophy and itsfaith. The Prince, however, was more silent than usual, and when hesought to rouse himself, his spirits were forced and exaggerated. Tothe, manners of his host, those of Zicci afforded a striking contrast. The bearing of this singular person was at all times characterized by acalm and polished ease which was attributed by the courtiers to the longhabit of society. He could scarcely be called gay, yet few persons moretended to animate the general spirits of a convivial circle. He seemed, by a kind of intuition, to elicit from each companion the qualities inwhich he most excelled; and a certain tone of latent mockery thatcharacterized his remarks upon the topics on which the conversationfell, seemed to men who took nothing in earnest to be the language bothof wit and wisdom. To the Frenchmen in particular there was somethingstartling in his intimate knowledge of the minutest events in their owncapital and country, and his profound penetration (evinced but inepigrams and sarcasms) into the eminent characters who were then playinga part upon the great stage of Continental intrigue. It was while thisconversation grew animated, and the feast was at its height, thatGlyndon (who, as the reader will recollect, had resolved, on learningfrom Cetoxa the capture of the actress, to seek the Prince himself)arrived at the palace. The porter, perceiving by his dress that he wasnot one of the invited guests, told him that his Excellency was engaged, and on no account could be disturbed; and Glyndon then, for the firsttime, became aware of how strange and embarrassing was the duty he hadtaken on himself. To force an entrance into the banquet-hall of a greatand powerful noble surrounded by the rank of Naples, and to arraign himfor what to his boon companions would appear but an act of gallantry, was an exploit that could not fail to be at once ludicrous and impotent. He mused a moment; and remembering that Zicci was among the guests, determined to apply himself to the Corsican. He therefore, slipping afew crowns into the porter's hand, said that he was commissioned to seekthe Signor Zicci upon an errand of life and death, and easily won hisway across the court and into the interior building. He passed up thebroad staircase, and the voices and merriment of the revellers smote hisear at a distance. At the entrance of the reception-rooms he found apage, whom he despatched with a message to Zicci. The page did theerrand; and the Corsican, on hearing the whispered name of Glyndon, turned to his host. 

"Pardon me, my lord, an English friend of mine, the Signor Glyndon (notunknown by name to your Excellency), waits without. The business mustindeed be urgent on which he has sought me in such an hour. You willforgive my momentary absence. "

"Nay, signor, " answered the Prince, courteously, but with a sinistersmile on his countenance, "would it not be better for your friend tojoin us? An Englishman is welcome everywhere; and even were he aDutchman, your friendship would invest his presence with attraction. Pray his attendance, --we would not spare you even for a moment. "

Zicci bowed. The page was despatched with all flattering messages toGlyndon, a seat next to Zicci was placed for him, and the youngEnglishman entered. 

"You are most welcome, sir. I trust your business to our illustriousguest is of good omen and pleasant import. If you bring evil news, defer it, I pray you. "

Glyndon's brow was sullen, and he was about to startle the guests by hisreply, when Zicci, touching his arm significantly, whispered in English, "I know why you have sought me. Be silent, and witness what ensues. "

"You know, then, that Isabel, whom you boasted you had the power to savefrom danger--"

"Is in this house? Yes. I know also that Murder sits at the right handof our host. Be still, and learn the fate that awaits the foes ofZicci. "

"My lord, " said the Corsican, speaking aloud, "the Signor Glyndon hasindeed brought me tidings which, though not unexpected, are unwelcome. I learn that which will oblige me to leave Naples to-morrow, though Itrust but for a short time. I have now a new motive to make the most ofthe present hour. "

"And what, if I may venture to ask, may be the cause which brings suchaffliction on the fair dames of Naples?"

"It is the approaching death of one who honored me with most loyalfriendship, " replied Zicci, gravely. "Let us not speak of it, --Griefcannot put back the dial. As we supply by new flowers those that fadein our vases, so it is the secret of worldly wisdom to replace by freshfriendships those that fade from our path. "

"True philosophy, " exclaimed the Prince. "'Not to admire' was theRoman's maxim; never to mourn is mine. There is nothing in life togrieve for, --save, indeed, Signor Zicci, when some beauty on whom wehave set our heart slips from our grasp. In such a moment we have needof all our wisdom not to succumb to despair and shake hands with death. What say you, signor? You smile. Such never could be your lot. Pledgeme in a sentiment: 'Long life; to the fortunate lover; a quick releaseto the baffled suitor!'"

"I pledge you, " said Zicci. And as the fatal wine was poured into hisglass, he repeated, fixing his eyes on the Prince, "I pledge you even inthis wine!"

He lifted the glass to his lips. The Prince seemed ghastly pale, whilethe gaze of the Corsican bent upon him with an intent and sternbrightness that the conscience-stricken host cowered and quailedbeneath. Not till he had drained the draught and replaced the glassupon the board did Zicci turn his eyes from the Prince; and he thensaid, "Your wine has been kept too long, --it has lost its virtues. Itmight disagree with many; but do not fear, it will not harm me, Prince. Signor Mascari, you are a judge of the grape, will you favor us withyour opinion?"

"Nay, " answered Mascari, with well-affected composure, "I like not thewines of Cyprus, they are heating. Perhaps Signor Glyndon may not havethe same distaste. The English are said to love their potations warmand pungent. "

"Do you wish my friend also to taste the wine, Prince?" said Zicci. "Recollect all cannot drink it with the same impunity as myself. "

"No, " said the Prince, hastily; "if you do not recommend the wine, Heaven forbid that we should constrain our guests! My Lord Duke, "turning to one of the Frenchmen, "yours is the true soil of Bacchus. What think you of this cask from Burgundy, --has it borne the journey?"

"Ah!" said Zicci, "let us change both the wine and the theme. " Withthat the Corsican grew more animated and brilliant. Never did wit moresparkling, airy, exhilarating, flash from the lips of reveller. Hisspirits fascinated all present, even the Prince himself, even Glyndon, with a strange and wild contagion. The former, indeed, whom the wordsand gaze of Zicci, when he drained the poison, had filled with fearfulmisgivings, now hailed in the brilliant eloquence of his wit a certainsign of the operation of the bane. The wine circulated fast, but noneseemed conscious of its effects. One by one the rest of the party fellinto a charmed and spell-bound silence as Zicci continued to pour forthsally upon sally, tale upon tale. They hung on his words, they almostheld their breath to listen. Yet how bitter was his mirth; how full ofcontempt for all things; how deeply steeped in the coldness of thederision that makes sport of life itself!

Night came on; the room grew dim, and the feast had lasted several hourslonger than was the customary duration of similar entertainments at thatday. Still the guests stirred not, and still Zicci continued, withglittering eye and mocking lip, to lavish his stores of intellect andanecdote, when suddenly the moon rose, and shed its rays over theflowers and fountains in the court without, leaving the room itself halfin shadow and half tinged by a quiet and ghostly light. 

It was then that Zicci rose. "Well, gentlemen, " said he, "we have notyet wearied our host, I hope, and his garden offers a new temptation toprotract our stay. Have you no musicians among your train, Prince, thatmight regale our ears while we inhale the fragrance of your orange-trees?"

"An excellent thought, " said the Prince. "Mascari, see to the music. "

The party rose simultaneously to adjourn to the garden; and then, forthe first time, the effect of the wine they had drunk seemed to makeitself felt. 

With flushed cheeks and unsteady steps they came into the open air, which tended yet more to stimulate that glowing fever of the grape. Asif to make up for the silence with which the guests had hithertolistened to Zicci, every tongue was now loosened; every man talked, noman listened. In the serene beauty of the night and scene there wassomething wild and fearful in the contrast of the hubbub and Babel ofthese disorderly roysterers. One of the Frenchmen in especial, theyoung Due de R--, --a nobleman of the highest rank, and of all the quick, vivacious, and irascible temperament of his countrymen, --wasparticularly noisy and excited. And as circumstances, the remembranceof which is still preserved among certain circles of Naples, rendered itafterwards necessary that the Due should himself give evidence of whatoccurred, I will here translate the short account he drew up, and whichwas kindly submitted to me some few years ago by my accomplished andlively friend, il Cavaliere di B--. 

 I never remember [writes the Due] to have felt my spirits so excited as on that evening; we were like so many boys released from school, jostling each other as we reeled or ran down the flight of seven or eight stairs that led from the colonnade into the garden, --some lambing, some whooping, some scolding, some babbling. The wine had brought out, as it were, each man's inmost character. Some were loud and quarrelsome, others sentimental and whining; some, whom we had hitherto thought dull, most mirthful; some, whom we had ever regarded as discreet and taciturn, most garrulous and uproarious. I remember that in the midst of our most clamorous gayety my eye fell upon the foreign cavalier, Signor Zicci, whose conversation had so enchanted us all, and I felt a certain chill come over me to perceive that he bore the same calm and unsympathizing smile upon his countenance which had characterized it in his singular and curious stories of the court of Louis XV. I felt, indeed, half inclined to seek a quarrel with one whose composure was almost an insult to our disorder. Nor was such an effect of this irritating and mocking tranquillity confined to myself alone. Several of the party have told me since that on looking at Zicci they felt their blood rise and their hands wander to their sword-hilts. There seemed in the icy smile a very charm to wound vanity and provoke rage. It was at this moment that the Prince came up to me, and, passing his arm into mine, led me a little apart from the rest. He had certainly indulged in the same excess as ourselves, but it did not produce the same effect of noisy excitement. There was, on the contrary a certain cold arrogance and supercilious scorn in his bearing and language, which, even while affecting so much caressing courtesy towards me, roused my self-love against him. He seemed as if Zicci had infected him, and that in imitating the manner of his guest he surpassed the original, he rallied me on some court gossip which had honored my name by associating it with a certain beautiful and distinguished Sicilian lady, and affected to treat with contempt that which, had it been true, I should have regarded as a boast. He spoke, indeed, as if he himself had gathered all the flowers of Naples, and left us foreigners only the gleanings he had scorned; at this my natural and national gallantry was piqued, and I retorted by some sarcasms that I should certainly have spared had my blood been cooler. He laughed heartily, and left me in a strange fit of resentment and anger. Perhaps (I must own the truth) the wine had produced in me a wild disposition to take offence and provoke quarrel. As the Prince left me, I turned, and saw Zicci at my side. 

 "The Prince is a braggart, " said he, with the same smile that displeased me before. "He would monopolize all fortune and all love. Let us take our revenge. "

 "And how?"

 "He has at this moment in his house the most enchanting singer in Naples, --the celebrated Isabel di Pisani. She is here, it is true, not by her own choice, --he carried her hither by force; but he will pretend to swear that she adores him. Let us insist. On his producing the secret treasure; and when she enters, the Duc de Lt-- can have no doubt that his flatteries and attentions will charm the lady and provoke all the jealous fears of our host. It would be a fair revenge upon his imperious self conceit. "

 This suggestion delighted me. I hastened to the Prince. At that instant the musicians had just commenced. I waved my hand, ordered the music to stop, and addressing the Prince, who was standing in the centre of one of the gayest groups, complained of his want of hospitality in affording to us such poor proficients in the art while he reserved for his own solace the lute and voice of the first performer in Naples. I demanded, half laughingly, half seriously, that he should produce the Pisani. My demand was received with shouts of applause by the rest. We drowned the replies of our host with uproar, and would hear no denial. "Gentlemen, " at last said the Prince, when he could obtain an audience, "even were I to assent to your proposal, I could not induce the signora to present herself before an assemblage as riotous as they are noble. You have too much chivalry to use compulsion with her, though the Due de R-- forgets himself sufficiently to administer it to inc. "

 I was stung by this taunt, however well deserved. "Prince, " said I, "I have for the indelicacy of compulsion so illustrious an example that I cannot hesitate to pursue the path honored by your own footsteps. All Naples knows that the Pisani despises at once your gold and your love; that force alone could have brought her under your roof; and that you refuse to produce her because you fear her complaints, and know enough of the chivalry your vanity sneers at to feel assured that the gentlemen of France are not more disposed to worship beauty than to defend it from wrong. "

 "You speak well, sir, " said Zicci, gravely;--"the Prince dare not produce his prize. "

 The Prince remained speechless for a few moments, as if with indignation. At last he broke out into expressions the most injurious and insulting against Signor Zicci and myself. Zicci replied not; I was more hot and hasty. The guests appeared to delight in our dispute. None except Mascari, whom we pushed aside and disdained to hear, strove to conciliate; some took one side, some another. The issue may be well foreseen. Swords were drawn. I had left mine in the ante room; Zicci offered me his own, --I seized it eagerly. There might be some six or eight persons engaged in a strange and confused kind of melee, but the Prince and myself only sought each other. The noise around us, the confusion of the guests, the cries of the musicians, the clash of our own swords, only served to stimulate our unhappy fury. We feared to be interrupted by the attendants and fought like madmen, without skill or method. I thrust and parried mechanically, blind and frantic as if a demon had entered into me, till I saw the Prince stretched at my feet, bathed in his blood, and Zicci bending over him and whispering in his ear. The sight cooled us all; the strife ceased. We gathered in shame, remorse, and horror round our ill-fated host; but it was too late, his eyes rolled fearfully in his head, and still he struggled to release himself from Zicci's arms, who continued to whisper (I trust divine comfort) in his ear. I have seen men die, but, never one who wore such horror on his countenance. At last all was over; Zicci rose from the corpse, and taking, with great composure, his sword from my hand, --"Ye are witnesses, gentlemen, " said he, calmly, "that the Prince brought his fate upon himself. The last of that illustrious house has perished in a brawl. "

 I saw no more of Zicci. I hastened to the French ambassador to narrate the event and abide the issue. I am grateful to the Neapolitan government and to the illustrious heir of the unfortunate nobleman for the lenient and generous, yet just, interpretation put upon a misfortune the memory of which will afflict me to the last hour of my life. (Signed) Louis Victor, Duc de R. 

In the above memorial the reader will find the most exact and minuteaccount yet given of an event which created the most lively sensation atNaples in that day, and the narration of which first induced me tocollect the materials of this history, which the reader will perceive, as it advances, is altogether different in its nature, its agencies, andits aims from those tales of external terror, whether derived fromingenious imposture or supernatural mystery, that have given life toFrench melodrama or German romance. 

CHAPTER XVII. 

Glyndon had taken no part in the affray, neither had he participatedlargely in the excesses of the revel. For his exemption from both hewas perhaps indebted to the whispered exhortations of Zicci. When thelast rose from the corpse and withdrew from that scene of confusion, Glyndon remarked that in passing the crowd he touched Mascari on theshoulder, and said something which the Englishman did not overhear. Glyndon followed Zicci into the banquet-room, which, save where themoonlight slept on the marble floor, was wrapped in the sad and gloomyshadows of the advancing night. 

"How could you foretell this fearful event? He fell not by your arm, "said Glyndon, in a tremulous and hollow tone. 

"The general who calculates on the victory does not fight in person, "answered Zicci. "But enough of this. Meet me at midnight by theseashore, half a mile to the left of your hotel, --you will know the spotby a rude pillar, the only one near--, to which a broken chain isattached. There and then will be the crisis of your fate; go. I havebusiness here yet, --remember, Isabel is still in the house of the deadman. "

As Glyndon yet hesitated, strange thoughts, doubts, and fears thatlonged for speech crowding within him, Mascari approached; and Zicci, turning to the Italian and waving his hand to Glyndon, drew the formeraside. Glyndon slowly departed. 

"Mascari, " said Zicci, "your patron is no more. Your services will bevalueless to his heir, --a sober man, whom poverty has preserved fromvice. For yourself, thank me that I do not give you up to theexecutioner, --recollect the wine of Cyprus. Well, never tremble, man, it could not act on me, though it might re-act on others, --in that it isa common type of crime. I forgive you; and if the wine should kill me, I promise you that my ghost shall not haunt so worshipful a penitent. Enough of this. Conduct me to the chamber of Isabel di Pisani; you haveno further need of her. The death of the jailer opens the cell of thecaptive. Be quick, --I would be gone. " Mascari muttered some inaudiblewords, bowed low, and led the way to the chamber in which Isabel wasconfined. 

CHAPTER XVIII. 

It wanted several minutes of midnight, and Glyndon repaired to theappointed spot. The mysterious empire which Zicci had acquired over himwas still more solemnly confirmed by the events of the last few hours;the sudden fate of the Prince, so deliberately foreshadowed, and yet soseemingly accidental--brought out by causes the most commonplace, andyet associated with words the most prophetic, --impressed him with thedeepest sentiments of admiration and awe. It was as if this dark andwondrous being would convert the most ordinary events and the meanestinstruments into the agencies of his inscrutable will; yet, if so, whyhave permitted the capture of Isabel? Why not have prevented the crimerather than punished the criminal? And did Zicci really feel love forIsabel? Love, and yet offer to resign her to himself, --to a rival whomhis arts could not fail to baffle? He no longer reverted to the beliefthat Zicci or Isabel had sought to dupe him into marriage. His fear andreverence for the former now forbade the notion of so poor an imposture. Did he any longer love Isabel himself? No. When, that morning, heheard of her danger, he had, it is true, returned to the sympathies andthe fears of affection; but with the death of the Prince her image fadedagain from his heart, and he felt no jealous pang at the thought thatshe had been saved by Zicci, --that at that moment she was perhapsbeneath his roof. Whoever has, in the course of his life, indulged theabsorbing passion of the gamester, will remember bow all other pursuitsand objects vanished from his mind, how solely he was wrapped in the onewild delusion; with what a sceptre of magic power the despot demon ruledevery feeling and every thought. Far more intense than the passion ofthe gamester was the frantic yet sublime desire that mastered the breastof Glyndon. He would be the rival of Zicci, not in human and perishableaffections, but in preternatural and eternal lore. He would have laiddown life with content, nay, rapture, as the price of learning thosesolemn secrets which separated the stranger from mankind. . Such foolsare we when we aspire to be over-wise! To be enamoured too madly of thegoddess of goddesses is only to embrace a cloud, and to forfeit alikeheaven and earth. 

The night was most lovely and serene, and the waves scarcely rippled athis feet as the Englishman glided on by the cool and starry beach. Atlength he arrived at the spot, and there, leaning against the brokenpillar, he beheld a man wrapped in a long mantle and in an attitude ofprofound repose. He approached, and uttered the name of Zicci. Thefigure turned, and he saw the face of a stranger, --a face not stamped bythe glorious beauty of the Corsican, but equally majestic in its aspect, and perhaps still more impressive from the mature age and thepassionless depth of thought that characterized the expanded foreheadand deep-set but piercing eyes. 

"You seek Zicci, " said the stranger, --"he will be here anon; but perhapshe whom you see before you is more connected with your destiny, and moredisposed to realize your dreams. "

"Hath the earth then another Zicci?"

"If not, " replied the stranger, "why do you cherish the hope and thewild faith to be yourself a Zicci? Think you that none others haveburned with the same godlike dream? Who, indeed, in his first youth;--youth, when the soul is nearer to the heaven from which it sprang, andits divine and primal longings are not all effaced by the sordidpassions and petty cares that are begot in time?--who is there in youththat has not nourished the belief that the universe has secrets notknown to the common herd, and panted, as the hart for the water-springs, for the fountains that he hid and far away amidst the broad wildernessof trackless science? The music of the fountain is heard in the soulwithin till the steps, deceived and erring, rove away from its waters, and the wanderer dies in the mighty desert. Think you that none whohave cherished the hope have found the truth, or that the yearning afterthe Ineffable Knowledge was given to us utterly in vain? No. Everydesire in human hearts is but a glimpse of things that exist, alikedistant and divine. No! in the world there have been, from age to age, some brighter and happier spirits who have won to the air in which thebeings above mankind move and breathe. Zicci, great though he be, stands not alone; he has his predecessors, his contemporary rivals, andlong lines of successors are yet to come!"

"And will you tell me, " said Glyndon, "that in yourself I behold one ofthat mighty few over whom Zicci has no superiority in power and wisdom?"

"In me, " answered the stranger, "you see one from whom Zicci himselflearned many of his loftiest secrets. Before his birth my wisdom was!On these shores, on this spot, have I stood in ages that your chroniclesbut feebly reach. The Phoenician, the Greek, the Oscan, the Roman, theLombard, --I have seen them all!--leaves gay and glittering on the trunkof the universal life--scattered in due season and again renewed; till, indeed, the same race that gave its glory to the ancient world bestoweda second youth on the new. For the pure Greeks--the Hellenes, whoseorigin has bewildered your dreaming scholars--were of the same greatfamily as the Norman tribe, born to be the lords of the universe, and inno land on earth destined to be the hewers of wood. Even the dimtraditions of the learned that bring the sons of Hellas from the vastand undetermined territories of Northern Thrace, to be the victors ofthe pastoral Pelasgi, and the founders of the line of demi-gods, mightserve you to trace back their primeval settlements to the same regionwhence, in later times, the Norman warriors broke on the dull and savagehordes of the Celt, and became the Greeks of the Christian world. Butthis interests you not, and you are wise in your indifference. Not inthe knowledge of things without, but in the perfection of the soulwithin, lies the empire of man aspiring to be more than men. "

"And what books contain that science; from what laboratory is itwrought?"

"Nature supplies the materials: they are around you in your daily walks;in the herbs that the beast devours and the chemist disdains to cull; inthe elements, from which matter in its meanest and its mightiest shapesis deduced; in the wide bosom of the air; in the black abysses of theearth, --everywhere are given to mortals the resources and libraries ofimmortal lore. But as the simplest problems in the simplest of allstudies are obscure to one who braces not his mind to theircomprehension; as the rower in yonder vessel cannot tell you why twocircles can touch each other only in one point, --so, though all earthwere carved over and inscribed with the letters of diviner knowledge, the characters would be valueless to him who does not pause to inquirethe language and meditate the truth. Young man, if thy imagination isvivid; if thy heart is daring, if thy curiosity is insatiate, I willaccept thee as my pupil. But the first lessons are stern and dread. "

"If thou hast mastered them, why not I?" answered Glyndon, boldly. "Ihave felt from my boyhood that strange mysteries were reserved for mycareer, and from the proudest ends of ordinary ambition I have carriedmy gaze into the cloud and darkness that stretch beyond. The instant Ibeheld Zicci, I felt as if I had discovered the guide and the tutor forwhich my youth had idly languished and vainly burned. "

"And to me his duty can be transferred, " replied the stranger. "Yonderlies, anchored in the bay, the vessel in which Zicci seeks a fairerhome; a little while and the breeze will rise, the sail will swell, andthe stranger will have passed like a wind away. Still, like the wind, he leaves in thy heart the seeds that may bear the blossom and thefruit. Zicci hath performed his task--he is wanted no more; theperfecter of his work is at thy side. He comes--I hear the dash of theoar. You will have your choice submitted to you. According as youdecide, we shall meet again. " With these words the stranger movedslowly away, and disappeared beneath the shadow of the cliffs. A boatglided rapidly across the waters; it touched land, a man leapt on shore, and Glyndon recognized Zicci. 

"I give thee, Glyndon, I give thee no more the option of happy love andserene enjoyment. That hour is past, and fate has linked the hand thatmight have been thine own to mine. But I have ample gifts to bestowupon thee if thou wilt abandon the hope that gnaws thy heart, and therealization of which even I have not the power to foresee. Be thineambition human, and I can gratify it to the full. Men desire fourthings in life, --love, wealth, fame, power. The first I cannot givethee, --no matter why; the rest are at my disposal. Select which of themthou wilt, and let us part in peace. "

"Such are not the gifts I covet: I choose knowledge, which indeed, asthe schoolman said, is power, and the loftiest; that knowledge must bethine own. For this, and for this alone, I surrendered the love ofIsabel; this, and this alone, must be any recompense. "

"I cannot gainsay thee, though I can warn. The desire to learn does notalways contain the faculty to acquire. I can give thee, it is true, theteacher; the rest must depend on thee. Be wise in time, and take thatwhich I can assure to thee. "

"Answer me but these questions, and according to your answer I willdecide. Is it in the power of man to attain intercourse with the beingsof other worlds? Is it in the power of man to read the past and thefuture, and to insure life against the sword and against disease?"

"All this may be possible, " answered Zicci evasively, "to the few. Butfor one who attains such secrets, millions may perish in the attempt. "

"One question more. Thou--"

"Beware! Of myself, as I have said before, I render no account. "

"Well, then, the stranger I have met this night--are his boasts to bebelieved? Is he in truth one of the chosen seers whom you allow to havemastered the mysteries I yearn to fathom?"

"Rash man, " said Zicci, in a tone of compassion, "thy crisis is past, and thy choice made. I can only bid thee be bold and prosper. Yes, Iresign thee to a master who has the power and the will to open to theethe gates of the awful world. Thy weal or woe are as nought in the eyesof his relentless wisdom. I would bid him spare thee, but he will heedme not. Mejnour, receive thy pupil!" Glyndon turned, and his heartbeat when he perceived that the stranger, whose footsteps he had notheard on the pebbles, whose approach he had not beheld in the moonlight, was once more by his side. 

Glyndon's eyes followed the receding form of the mysterious Corsican. He saw him enter the boat, and he then for the first time noticed thatbesides the rowers there was a female, who stood up as Zicci gained theboat. Even at this distance he recognized the once-adored form ofIsabel. She waved her hand to him, and across the still and shining aircame her voice, mournfully and sweetly in her native tongue, "Farewell, Clarence--farewell, farewell. "

He strove to answer, but the voice touched a chord at his heart, and thewords failed him. Isabel was then lost forever, --gone with this dreadstranger, --darkness was round her lot. And he himself had decided herfate and his own! The boat bounded on, the soft waves flashed andsparkled beneath the oars, and it was along one sapphire track ofmoonlight that the frail vessel bore away the lovers. Farther andfarther from his gaze sped the boat, till at last the speck, scarcelyvisible, touched the side of the ship that lay lifeless in the gloriousbay. At that instant, as if by magic, up sprang with a glad murmur theplayful and refreshing wind. And Glyndon turned to Mejnour, and brokethe silence. 

"Tell me, --if thou canst read the future, --tell me that her lot will befair, and that her choice at least is wise. "

"My pupil, " answered Mejnour, in a voice the calmness of which wellaccorded with the chilling words, "thy first task must be to withdrawall thought, feeling, sympathy from others. The elementary stage ofknowledge is to make self, and self alone, thy study and thy world. Thou bast decided thine own career; thou hast renounced love; thou hastrejected wealth, fame, and the vulgar pomps of power. What, then, areall mankind to thee? To perfect thy faculties and concentrate thyemotions is henceforth thy only aim. "

"And will happiness be the end?"

"If happiness exist, " answered Mejnour, "it must be centred in A Self towhich all passion is unknown. But happiness is the last state of being, and as yet thou art on the threshold of the first!"

As Mejnour spoke, the distant vessel spread its sails to the wind, andmoved slowly along the deep. Glyndon sighed, and the pupil and themaster retraced their steps towards the city. 

BOOK II. 

CHAPTER I. 

It was about a month after the date of Zicci's departure and Glyndon'sintroduction to Mejnour, when two Englishmen were walking arm-in-armthrough the Toledo. 

"I tell you, " said one (who spoke warmly), "that if you have a particleof common-sense left in you, you will accompany me to England. ThisMejnour is an impostor more dangerous--because more in earnest--thanZicci. After all, what do his promises amount to? You allow thatnothing can be more equivocal. You say that he has left Naples, that hehas selected a retreat more genial than the crowded thoroughfares of mento the studies in which he is to initiate you; and this retreat is amongthe haunts of the fiercest bandits of Italy, --haunts which Justiceitself dare not penetrate; fitting hermitage for a sage! I tremble foryou. What if this stranger, of whom nothing is known, be leagued withthe robbers; and these lures for your credulity bait but the traps foryour property, --perhaps your life? You might come off cheaply by aransom of half your fortune; you smile indignantly well! put common-sense out of the question; take your own view of the matter. You are toundergo an ordeal which Mejnour himself does not profess to describe asa very tempting one. It may, or it may not, succeed; if it does not, you are menaced with the darkest evils; and if it does, you cannot bebetter off than the dull and joyless mystic whom you have taken for amaster. Away with this folly! Enjoy youth while it is left to you. Return with me to England; forget these dreams. Enter your propercareer; form affections more respectable than those which lured you awhile to an Italian adventuress, and become a happy and distinguishedman. This is the advice of sober friendship; yet the promises I holdout to you are fairer than those of Mejnour. "

"Merton, " said Glyndon, doggedly, "I cannot, if I would, yield to yourwishes. A power that is above me urges me on; I cannot resist itsfascination. I will proceed to the last in the strange career I havecommenced. Think of me no more. Follow yourself the advice you give tome, and be happy. "

"This is madness, " said Merton, passionately, but with a tear in hiseye; "your health is already failing; you are so changed I shouldscarcely know you: come, I have already had your name entered in mypassport; in another hour I shall be gone, and you, boy that you are, will be left without a friend to the deceits of your own fancy and themachinations of this relentless mountebank. "

"Enough, " said Glyndon, coldly; "you cease to be an effective counsellorwhen you suffer your prejudices to be thus evident. I have already hadample proof, " added the Englishman, and his pale cheek grew more pale, "of the power of this man, --if man he be, which I sometimes doubt; and, come life, come death, I will not shrink from the paths that allure me. Farewell, Merton: if we never meet again; if you hear amidst our old andcheerful haunts that Clarence Glyndon sleeps the last sleep by theshores of Naples, or amidst the Calabrian hills, --say to the friends ofour youth, 'He died worthily, as thousands of martyr-students have diedbefore him, in the pursuit of knowledge. '"

He wrung Merton's hand as he spoke, darted from his side, anddisappeared amidst the crowd. 

That day Merton left Naples; the next morning Glyndon also quitted theCity of Delight, alone and on horseback. He bent his way into thosepicturesque but dangerous parts of the country which at that time wereinfested by banditti, and which few travellers dared to pass, even inbroad daylight, without a strong escort. A road more lonely cannot wellbe conceived than that on which the hoofs of his steed, striking uponthe fragments of rock that encumbered the neglected way, woke a dull andmelancholy echo. Large tracts of waste land, varied by the rank andprofuse foliage of the South, lay before him; occasionally a wild goatpeeped down from some rocky crag, or the discordant cry of a bird ofprey, startled in its sombre haunt, was heard above the hills. Thesewere the only signs of life; not a human being was met, not a hut wasvisible. Wrapped in his own ardent and solemn thoughts, the young mancontinued his way, till the sun had spent its noonday heat, and a breezethat announced the approach of eve sprung up from the unseen ocean thatlay far distant to his sight. It was then that a turn in the roadbrought before him one of those long, desolate, gloomy villages whichare found in the interior of the Neapolitan dominions; and now he cameupon a small chapel on one side of the road, with a gaudily paintedimage of the Virgin in the open shrine. Around this spot, which in theheart of a Christian land retained the vestige of the old idolatry (forjust such were the chapels that in the Pagan age were dedicated to thedemon-saints of mythology), gathered six or seven miserable and squalidwretches, whom the Curse of the Leper had cut off from mankind. Theyset up a shrill cry as they turned their ghastly visages towards thehorseman; and, without stirring from the spot, stretched out their gauntarms, and implored charity in the name of the Merciful Mother. Glyndonhastily threw them some small coins, and, turning away his face, clappedspurs to his horse, and relaxed not his speed till he entered thevillage. On either side the narrow and miry street, fierce and haggardforms--some leaning against the ruined walls of blackened huts, someseated at the threshold, some lying at full length in the mud--presentedgroups that at once invoked pity and aroused alarm; pity for theirsqualor, --alarm for the ferocity imprinted on their savage aspects. They gazed at him, grim and sullen, as he rode slowly up the ruggedstreet; sometimes whispering significantly to each other, but withoutattempting to stop his way. Even the children hushed their babble, andragged urchins, devouring him with sparkling eyes, muttered to theirmothers, "We shall feast well to-morrow!" It was, indeed, one of thosehamlets in which Law sets not its sober step, in which Violence andMurder house secure, --hamlets common then in the wilder parts of Italy, in which the peasant was but the gentler name for the robber. 

Glyndon's heart somewhat failed him as he looked around, and thequestion he desired to ask died upon his lips. At length, from one ofthe dismal cabins emerged a form superior to the rest. Instead of thepatched and ragged overall which made the only garment of the men he hadhitherto seen, the dress of this person was characterized by all thetrappings of Calabrian bravery. Upon his raven hair, the glossy curlsof which made a notable contrast to the matted and elfin locks of thesavages around, was placed a cloth cap with a gold tassel that hung downto his shoulder; his mustaches were trimmed with care, and a silkkerchief of gay lines was twisted round a well-shaped but sinewy throat;a short jacket of rough cloth was decorated with several rows of giltfilagree buttons; his nether garments fitted tight to his limbs, andwere curiously braided; while in a broad, party-colored sash were placedfour silver-hilted pistols; and the sheathed knife, usually worn byItalians of the lower order, was mounted in ivory elaborately carved. Asmall carbine of handsome workmanship was slung across his shoulder, andcompleted his costume. The man himself was of middle size, athletic, yet slender; with straight and regular features, --sunburnt, but notswarthy; and an expression of countenance which, though reckless andbold, had in it frankness rather than ferocity, and, if defying, was notaltogether unprepossessing. 

Glyndon, after eyeing this figure for some moments with great attention, checked his rein, and asked in the provincial patois, with which he wastolerably familiar, the way to the "Castle of the Mountain. "

The man lifted his cap as he heard the question, and, approachingGlyndon, laid his hand upon the neck of the horse, and said in a lowvoice, "Then you are the cavalier whom our patron the signor expected. He bade me wait for you here, and lead you to the castle. And indeed, signor, it might have been unfortunate if I had neglected to obey thecommand. " The man then, drawing a little aside, called out to thebystanders in a loud voice, "Ho, ho, my friends, pay henceforth andforever all respect to this worshipful cavalier. He is the acceptedguest of our blessed patron of the Castle of the Mountain. Long life tohim! May he, like his host, be safe by day and by night, in the hilland on the waste, against the dagger and the bullet, in limb and inlife! Cursed be he who touches a hair of his head, or a baioccho in hispouch. Now and forever we will protect and honor him; for the law oragainst the law; with the faith, and to the death. Amen. Amen!"

"Amen!" responded in wild chorus a hundred voices, and the scattered andstraggling groups pressed up the street, nearer and nearer to thehorseman. 

"And that he may be known, " continued the Englishman's strangeprotector, "to the eye and to the ear, I place around him the whitesash, and I give him the sacred watchword, --'Peace to the Brave. 'Signor, when you wear this sash, the proudest in these parts will barethe head and bend the knee. Signor, when you utter this watchword, thebravest hearts will be bound to your bidding. Desire you safety, or askyou revenge; to gain a beauty, or to lose a foe, speak but the word, andwe are yours, we are yours! Is it not so, comrades? "And again thehoarse voices shouted, "Amen, amen!"

"Now, signor, " whispered the bravo, in good Italian, "if you have a fewcoins to spare, scatter them amongst the crowd, and let us be gone. "

Glyndon, not displeased at the concluding sentence, emptied his purse inthe street; and while, with mingled oaths, blessings, shrieks, andyells, men, women, and children scrambled for the money, the bravo, taking the rein of the horse, led it a few paces through the village ata brisk trot, and then turning up a narrow lane to the left, in a fewminutes neither houses nor men were visible, and the mountains closedtheir path on either side. It was then that, releasing the bridle andslackening his pace, the guide turned his dark eyes on Glyndon with anarch expression, and said, --

"Your Excellency was not, perhaps, prepared for the hearty welcome wehave given you. "

"Why, in truth, I ought to have been prepared for it, since my friend, to whose house I am bound, did not disguise from me the character of theneighborhood. And your name, my friend, if I may call you so?"

"Oh, no ceremonies with me, Excellency. In the village I am generallycalled Maestro Paulo. I had a surname once, though a very equivocalone; and I have forgotten that since I retired from the world. "

"And was it from disgust, from poverty, or from some some ebullition ofpassion which entailed punishment, that you betook yourself to themountains?"

"Why, signor, " said the bravo, with a gay laugh, "hermits of my classseldom love the confessional. However, I have no secrets while my stepis in these defiles, my whistle in my pouch, and my carbine at my back. "With that the robber, as if he loved permission to talk at his will, hemmed thrice, and began with much humor; though, as his tale proceeded, the memories it roused seemed to carry him further than he at firstintended, and reckless and light-hearted ease gave way to that fierceand varied play of countenance and passion of gesture which characterizethe emotions of his countrymen. 

"I was born at Terracina, --a fair spot, is it not? My father was alearned monk, of high birth; my mother--Heaven rest her!--an innkeeper'spretty daughter. Of course there was no marriage in the case; and whenI was born, the monk gravely declared my appearance to be miraculous. Iwas dedicated from my cradle to the altar; and my head was universallydeclared to be the orthodox shape for a cowl. As I grew up, the monktook great pains with my education, and I learned Latin and psalmody assoon as less miraculous infants learn crowing. Nor did the holy man'scare stint itself to my interior accomplishments. Although vowed topoverty, he always contrived that my mother should have her pocketsfull; and between her pockets and mine there was soon established aclandestine communication; accordingly, at fourteen, I wore my cap onone side, stuck pistols in my belt, and assumed the swagger of acavalier and a gallant. At that age my poor mother died; and about thesame period, my father, having written a 'History of the PontificalBulls, ' in forty volumes, and being, as I said, of high birth, obtaineda cardinal's hat. From that time he thought fit to disown your humbleservant. He bound me over to an honest notary at Naples, and gave metwo hundred crowns by way of provision. Well, signor, I saw enough ofthe law to convince me that I should never be rogue enough to shine inthe profession. So instead of spoiling parchment, I made love to thenotary's daughter. My master discovered our innocent amusement, andturned me out of doors, --that was disagreeable. But my Ninetta lovedme, and took care that I should not lie out in the streets with thelazzaroni. Little jade, I think I see her now, with her bare feet, andher finger to her lips, opening the door in the summer nights, andbidding me creep softly into the kitchen, where--praised be the saints!--a flask and a manchet always awaited the hungry amoroso. At last, however, Ninetta grew cold. It is the way of the sex, signor. Herfather found her an excellent marriage in the person of a witheredpicture-dealer. She took the spouse, and very properly clapped the doorin the face of the lover. I was not disheartened, Excellency; no, notI. Women are plentiful while we are young. So, without a ducat in mypocket, or a crust for my teeth, I set out to seek my fortune on boardof a Spanish merchantman. That was duller work than I expected: butluckily we were attacked by a pirate; half the crew were butchered, therest captured. I was one of the last, --always in luck, you see, signor, monks' sons have a knack that way! The captain of the pirate took afancy to me. 'Serve with us, ' said he. 'Too happy, ' said I. Behold methen a pirate. Oh jolly life! how I blest the old notary for turning meout of doors! What feasting! what fighting! what wooing! whatquarreling! Sometimes we ran ashore and enjoyed ourselves like princes;sometimes we lay in a calm for days together, on the loveliest sea thatman ever traversed. And then, if the breeze rose, and a sail came insight, who so merry as we? I passed three years in that charmingprofession, and then, signor, I grew ambitious. I caballed against thecaptain; I wanted his post. One still night we struck the blow. Theship was like a log in the sea, --no land to be seen from the mast-head, the waves like glass, and the moon at its full. Up we rose, --thirty ofus and more. Up we rose with a shout; we poured into the captain'scabin, --I at the head. The brave old boy had caught the alarm, andthere he stood at the doorway, a pistol in each hand; and his one eye(he had only one) worse to meet than the pistols were. 

"'Yield, ' cried I, 'your life shall be safe. '

"'Take that, ' said he, and whiz went the pistol; but the saints tookcare of their own, and the ball passed by my cheek, and shot theboatswain behind me. I closed with the captain, and the other pistolwent off without mischief in the struggle; such a fellow he was, sixfeet four without his shoes! Over we went, rolling each on the other. Santa Maria!--no time to get hold of one's knife. Meanwhile, all thecrew were up, some for the captain, some for me; clashing and firing, and swearing and groaning, and now and then a heavy splash in the sea!Fine supper for the sharks that night! At last old Bilboa gotuppermost: out flashed his knife; down it came, but not in my heart. No! I gave my left arm as a shield, and the blade went through andthrough up to the hilt, with the blood spirting up like the rain from awhale's nostril. With the weight of the blow the stout fellow camedown, so that his face touched mine; with my right hand I caught him bythe throat, turned him over like a lamb, signor, and faith it was soonall up with him; the boatswain's brother, a fat Dutchman, ran himthrough with a pike. 

"'Old fellow, ' said I, as he turned up his terrible eye to me, 'I bearyou no malice, but we must try to get on in the world, you know. ' Thecaptain grinned and gave up the ghost. I went upon deck; what a sight!Twenty bold fellows stark and cold, and the moon sparkling on thepuddles of blood as calmly as if it were water. Well, signor, thevictory was ours, and the ship mine; I ruled merrily enough for sixmonths. We then attacked a French ship twice our size; what sport itwas! And we had not had a good fight so long we were quite like virginsat it! We got the best of it, and won ship and cargo. They wanted topistol the captain: but that was against my laws; so we gagged him, forhe scolded as loud as if we were married to him; left him and the restof his crew on board our own vessel, which was terribly battered:clapped our black flag on the Frenchman's, and set off merrily, with abrisk wind in our favor. But luck deserted us on forsaking our own dearold ship. A storm came on; a plank struck; several of us escaped in theboats; we had lots of gold with us, but no water. For two days and twonights we suffered horribly: but at last we ran ashore near a Frenchseaport; our sorry plight moved compassion, and as we had money we werenot suspected; people only suspect the poor. Here we soon recovered ourfatigues, rigged ourselves out gayly, and your humble servant wasconsidered as noble a captain as ever walked deck. But now, alas, myfate would have it that I should fall in love with a silk-mercer'sdaughter. Ah! how I loved her, --the pretty Clara! Yes, I loved her sowell, that I was seized with horror at my past life; I resolved torepent, to marry her, and settle down into an honest man. Accordingly, I summoned my messmates, told them my resolution, resigned my command, and persuaded them to depart. They were good fellows; engaged with aDutchman, against whom I heard afterwards they made a successful mutiny, but I never saw them more. I had two thousand crowns still left; withthis sum I obtained the consent of the silk-mercer, and it was agreedthat I should become a partner in the firm. I need not say that no onesuspected I had been so great a man, and I passed for a Neapolitangoldsmith's son instead of a cardinal's. I was very happy then, signor, very, --I could not have harmed a fly. Had I married Clara I had been asgentle a mercer as ever handled a measure. "

The bravo paused a moment, and it was easy to see that he felt more thanhis words and tone betokened. "Well, well, we must not look back at thePast too earnestly, --the sun light upon it makes one's eyes water. Theday was fixed for our wedding, it approached; on the evening before theappointed day, Clara, her mother, her little sister, and myself werewalking by the port, and as we looked on the sea I was telling them oldgossip tales of mermaids and sea-serpents, --when a red-faced bottle-nosed Frenchman clapped himself right before me, and placing hisspectacles very deliberately astride his proboscis, echoed out, 'Sacre, mille tonnerres! This is the damned pirate that boarded the "Niobe"!'

"None of your jests, ' said I, mildly. 'Ho, ho, ' said he. 'I can't bemistaken. Help there, ' and he gripped me by the collar. I replied, asyou may suppose, by laying him in the kennel; but it would not do. TheFrench captain had a French lieutenant at his back, whose memory was asgood as his master's. A crowd assembled; other sailors came up; theodds were against me. I slept that night in prison; and, in a few weeksafterwards, I was sent to the galleys. They had spared my life becausethe old Frenchman politely averred that I had made my crew spare his. You may believe that the oar and the chain were not to my taste. I, andtwo others, escaped; they took to the road, and have, no doubt, beenlong since broken on the wheel. I, soft soul, would not commit anothercrime to gain my bread, for Clara was still at my heart with her softeyes; so, limiting my rogueries to the theft of a beggar's rags, which Icompensated him by leaving my galley attire instead, I begged my way tothe town where I left Clara. It was a clear winter's day when Iapproached the outskirts of the town. I had no fear of detection, formy beard and hair were as good as a mask. Oh, Mother of Mercy! therecame across my way a funeral procession! There, now, you know it. Ican tell you no more. She had died, perhaps of love, more likely ofshame. Do you know how I spent that night? I will tell you; I stole apickaxe from a mason's shed, and, all alone and unseen, under the frostyheavens I dug the fresh mould from the grave; I lifted the coffin; Iwrenched the lid, I saw her again--again. Decay had not touched her. She was always pale in her life! I could have sworn she lived! It wasa blessed thing to see her once more, --and all alone too! But then atdawn, to give her back to the earth, --to close the lid, to throw downthe mould, to hear the pebbles rattle on the coffin, --that was dreadful!Signor, I never knew before, and I don't wish to think now, how valuablea thing human life is. At sunrise I was again a wanderer; but now thatClara was gone my scruples vanished, and again I was at war with mybetters. I contrived, at last, at O--, to get taken on board a vesselbound to Leghorn, working out my passage. From Leghorn I went to Rome, and stationed myself at the door of the cardinal's palace. Out hecame, --his gilded coach at the gate. "'Ho, father, ' said I, 'don't youknow me?'

"'Who are you?'

"'Your son, ' said I, in a whisper. 

"The cardinal drew back, looked at me earnestly, and mused a moment. 'All men are my sons, ' quoth he then, very mildly; 'there is gold forthee. To him who begs once, alms are due; to him who begs twice, jailsare open. Take the hint and molest me no more. Heaven bless thee!'With that he got into his coach and drove off to the Vatican. Hispurse, which he had left behind, was well supplied. I was grateful andcontented, and took my way to Terracina. I had not long passed themarshes, when I saw two horsemen approach at a canter. 

"'You look poor, friend, ' said one of them, halting; 'yet you arestrong. '

"'Poor men and strong are both serviceable and dangerous, SignorCavalier. '

"'Well said! follow us. '

"I obeyed and became a bandit. I rose by degrees; and as I have alwaysbeen mild in my calling, and have taken purses without cutting throats, bear an excellent character, and can eat my macaroni at Naples withoutany danger to life and limbs. For the last two years I have settled inthese parts, where I hold sway, and where I have purchased land. I amcalled a farmer, signor; and I myself now only rob for amusement, and tokeep my hand in. I trust I have satisfied your curiosity. We arewithin a hundred yards of the castle. "

"And how, " asked the Englishman, whose interest had been much excited byhis companion's narrative, "and how came you acquainted with my host?and by what means has he so well conciliated the goodwill of yourselfand your friends?"

Maestro Paulo turned his black eyes gravely towards his questioner. "Why, signor, " said he, "you must surely know more of the foreigncavalier with the hard name than I do. All I can say is, that about afortnight ago I chanced to be standing by a booth in the Toledo atNaples, when a sober-looking gentleman touched me by the arm, and said, 'Maestro Paulo, I want to make your acquaintance; do me the favor tocome into yonder tavern. ' When we were seated, my new acquaintance thusaccosted me: 'The Count d' O-- has offered to let me hire his old castlenear B--. You know the spot?'

"'Extremely well; no one has inhabited it for a century at least; it ishalf in ruins, signor. A queer place to hire; I hope the rent is notheavy. '

"'Maestro Paulo, ' said he, 'I am a philosopher, and don't care forluxuries. I want a quiet retreat for some scientific experiments. Thecastle will suit me very well, provided you will accept me as aneighbor, and place me and my friends under your special protection. Iam rich; but I shall take nothing to the castle worth robbing. I willpay one rent to the count, and another to you. '

"With that we soon came to terms, and as the strange signor doubled thesum I myself proposed, he is in high favor with all his neighbors. Wewould guard the old castle against an army. And now, signor, that Ihave been thus frank, be frank with me. Who is this singular cavalier?"

"Who?--he himself told you, a philosopher. "

"Hem! Searching for the philosopher's stone, eh? A bit of a magician;afraid of the priests?"

"Precisely. You have hit it. "

"I thought so; and you are his pupil?"

"I am. "

"I wish you well through it, " said the robber, seriously, and crossinghimself with much devotion; "I am not much better than other people, butone's soul is one's soul. I do not mind a little honest robbery, orknocking a man on the head if need be, --but to make a bargain with thedevil!--Ah! take care, young gentleman, take care. "

"You need not fear, " said Glyndon, smiling; "my preceptor is too wiseand too good for such a compact. But here we are, I suppose. A nobleruin! A glorious prospect!"

Glyndon paused delightedly, and surveyed the scene before and below withthe eye of a poet and a painter. Insensibly, while listening to thebandit, he had wound up a considerable ascent, and now he was upon abroad ledge of rock covered with mosses and dwarf shrubs. Between thiseminence and another of equal height, upon which the castle was built, there was a deep but narrow fissure, overgrown with the most profusefoliage, so that the eye could not penetrate many yards below the ruggedsurface of the abyss; but the profoundness might well be conjectured bythe hoarse, low, monotonous sound of waters unseen that rolled below, and the subsequent course of which was visible at a distance in aperturbed and rapid stream that intersected the waste and desolatevalleys. To the left, the prospect seemed almost boundless; the extremeclearness of the purple air serving to render distinct the features of arange of country that a conqueror of old might have deemed in itself akingdom. Lonely and desolate as the road which Glyndon had passed thatday had appeared, the landscape now seemed studded with castles, spires, and villages. Afar off, Naples gleamed whitely in the last rays of thesun, and the rose-tints of the horizon melted into the azure of herglorious bay. Yet more remote, and in another part of the prospect, might be caught, dim and shadowy, and backed by the darkest foliage, theruined village of the ancient Possidonia. There, in the midst of hisblackened and sterile realms, rose the dismal Mount of Fire; while, onthe other hand, winding through variegated plains, to which distancelent all its magic, glittered many a stream, by which Etruscan andSybarite, Roman and Saracen and Norman, had, at intervals of ages, pitched the invading tent. All the visions of the past the stormy anddazzling histories of Southern Italy--rushed over the artist's mind ashe gazed below. And then, slowly turning to look behind, he saw thegray and mouldering walls of the castle in which he sought the secretsthat were to give to hope in the Future a mightier empire than memoryowns in the Past. It was one of those baronial fortresses with whichItaly was studded in the earlier middle ages, having but little of theGothic grace of grandeur which belongs to the ecclesiasticalarchitecture of the same time; but rude, vast, and menacing even indecay. A wooden bridge was thrown over the chasm, wide enough to admittwo horsemen abreast; and the planks trembled and gave back a hollowsound as Glyndon urged his jaded steed across. 

A road that had once been broad, and paved with rough flags, but whichnow was half obliterated by long grass and rank weeds, conducted to theouter court of the castle hard by; the gates were open, and half thebuilding in this part was dismantled, the ruins partially hid by ivythat was the growth of centuries. But on entering the inner court, Glyndon was not sorry to notice that there was less appearance ofneglect and decay: some wild roses gave a smile to the gray walls; andin the centre there was a fountain, in which the waters still trickledcoolly, and with a pleasing murmur, from the jaws of a gigantic triton. Here he was met by Mejnour with a smile. 

"Welcome, my friend and pupil, " said he; "he who seeks for Truth canfind in these solitudes an immortal Academe. "

CHAPTER. II. 

The attendants which Mejnour had engaged for his strange abode were suchas might suit a philosopher of few wants. An old Armenian, whom Glyndonrecognized as in the mystic's service at Naples; a tall, hard-featuredwoman from the village, recommended by Maestro Paulo; and two long-haired, smooth-spoken, but fierce-visaged youths, from the same place, and honored by the same sponsorship, --constituted the establishment. The rooms used by the sage were commodious and weather-proof, with someremains of ancient splendor in the faded arras that clothed the wallsand the huge tables of costly marble and elaborate carving. Glyndon'ssleeping apartment communicated with a kind of belvidere or terracethat commanded prospects of unrivalled beauty and extent, and wasseparated, on the other side, by a long gallery and a flight of tenor a dozen stairs, from the private chambers of the mystic. There wasabout the whole place a sombre, and yet not displeasing, depth of repose. It suited well with the studies to which it was now to be appropriated. 

For several days Mejnour refused to confer with Glyndon on the subjectsnearest to his heart. 

"All without, " said he, "is prepared, but not all within. Your own soulmust grow accustomed to the spot, and filled with the surroundingNature; for Nature is the source of all inspiration. "

With these words, which savored a little of jargon, Mejnour turned tolighter topics. He made the Englishman accompany him in long ramblesthrough the wild scenes around, and he smiled approvingly when the youngartist gave way to the enthusiasm which their fearful beauty could nothave failed to rouse in a duller breast; and then Mejnour poured forthto his wondering pupil the stores of a knowledge that seemedinexhaustible and boundless. He gave accounts the most curious, graphic, and minute, of the various races--their characters, habits, creeds, and manners--by which that fair land had been successivelyoverrun. It is true that his descriptions could not be found in books, and were unsupported by learned authorities; but he possessed the truecharm of the tale-teller, and spoke of all with the animated confidenceof a personal witness. Sometimes, too, he would converse upon the moredurable and the loftier mysteries of Nature with an eloquence and aresearch which invested them with all the colors rather of poetry thanscience. Insensibly the young artist found himself elevated and soothedby the lore of his companion; the fever of his wild desires was slaked. His mind became more and more lulled into the divine tranquillity ofcontemplation; he felt himself a nobler being; and in the silence of hissenses he imagined that he heard the voice of his soul. 

It was to this state that Mejnour sought to bring the Neophyte, and inthis elementary initiation the mystic was like every more ordinary sage. For he who seeks to discover must first reduce himself into a kind ofabstract idealism, and be rendered up; in solemn and sweet bondage, tothe faculties which contemplate and imagine. 

Glyndon noticed that, in their rambles, Mejnour often paused where thefoliage was rifest, to gather some herb or flower; and this reminded himthat he had seen Zicci similarly occupied. "Can these humble childrenof Nature, " said he one day to Mejnour, "things that bloom and wither ina day, be serviceable to the science of the higher secrets? Is there apharmacy for the soul as well as the body, and do the nurslings of thesummer minister not only to human health but spiritual immortality?"

"If, " answered Mejnour, "before one property of herbalism was known tothem, a stranger had visited a wandering tribe, --if he had told thesavages that the herbs, which every day they trampled underfoot, wereendowed with the most potent virtues; that one would restore to health abrother on the verge of death; that another would paralyze into idiocytheir wisest sage; that a third would strike lifeless to the dust theirmost stalwart champion; that tears and laughter, vigor and disease, madness and reason, wakefulness and sleep, existence and dissolution, were coiled up in those unregarded leaves, --would they not have held hima sorcerer or a liar? To half the virtues of the vegetable worldmankind are yet in the darkness of the savages I have supposed. Thereare faculties within us with which certain herbs have affinity, and overwhich they have power. The moly of the ancients was not all a fable. "

One evening, Glyndon had lingered alone and late upon the ramparts, --watching the stars as, one by one, they broke upon the twilight. Neverhad he felt so sensibly the mighty power of the heavens and the earthupon man! how much the springs of our intellectual being are moved andacted upon by the solemn influences of Nature! As a patient on whom, slowly and by degrees, the agencies of mesmerism are brought to bear, heacknowledged to his heart the growing force of that vastand universal magnetism which is the life of creation, and binds theatom to the whole. A strange and ineffable consciousness of power, ofthe something great within the perishable clay, appealed to feelings atonce dim and glorious, --rather faintly recognized than all unknown. Animpulse that he could not resist led him to seek the mystic. He woulddemand, that hour, his initiation into the worlds beyond our world; hewas prepared to breathe a diviner air. He entered the castle, andstrode through the shadowy and star-lit gallery which conducted toMejnour's apartment. 

THE END. (1)

(1) [So far as Zicci was ever finished. ]