"I give thee, Glyndon,--I give thee no more the option of happy love and serene enjoyment.That hour is past, and fate has linked the hand that might have been thine own to mine.But Ihave ample gifts to bestow upon thee, if thou wilt abandon the hope that gnaws thy heart, and the realisation of which even _I_have not the power to foresee.Be thine ambition human, and Ican gratify it to the full.Men desire four things in life,--love, wealth, fame, power.The first I cannot give thee, the rest are at my disposal.Select which of them thou wilt, and let us part in peace.""Such are not the gifts I covet.I choose knowledge; that knowledge must be thine own.For this, and for this alone, Isurrendered the love of Viola; this, and this alone, must be my recompense.""I cannot gain say thee, though I can warn.The desire to learn does not always contain the faculty to acquire.I can give thee, it is true, the teacher,--the rest must depend on thee.Be wise in time, and take that which I can assure to thee.""Answer me but these questions, and according to your answer Iwill decide.Is it in the power of man to attain intercourse with the beings of other worlds? Is it in the power of man to influence the elements, and to insure life against the sword and against disease?""All this may be possible," answered Zanoni, evasively, "to the few; but for one who attains such secrets, millions may perish in the attempt.""One question more.Thou--"
"Beware! Of myself, as I have said before, I render no account.""Well, then, the stranger I have met this night,--are his boasts to be believed? Is he in truth one of the chosen seers whom you allow to have mastered the mysteries I yearn to fathom?""Rash man," said Zanoni, in a tone of compassion, "thy crisis is past, and thy choice made! I can only bid thee be bold and prosper; yes, I resign thee to a master who HAS the power and the will to open to thee the gates of an awful world.Thy weal or woe are as nought in the eyes of his relentless wisdom.I would bid him spare thee, but he will heed me not.Mejnour, receive thy pupil!" Glyndon turned, and his heart beat when he perceived that the stranger, whose footsteps he had not heard upon the pebbles, whose approach he had not beheld in the moonlight, was once more by his side.
"Farewell," resumed Zanoni; "thy trial commences.When next we meet, thou wilt be the victim or the victor."Glyndon's eyes followed the receding form of the mysterious stranger.He saw him enter the boat, and he then for the first time noticed that besides the rowers there was a female, who stood up as Zanoni gained the boat.Even at the distance he recognised the once-adored form of Viola.She waved her hand to him, and across the still and shining air came her voice, mournfully and sweetly, in her mother's tongue, "Farewell, Clarence,--I forgive thee!--farewell, farewell!"He strove to answer; but the voice touched a chord at his heart, and the words failed him.Viola was then lost forever, gone with this dread stranger; darkness was round her lot! And he himself had decided her fate and his own! The boat bounded on, the soft waves flashed and sparkled beneath the oars, and it was along one sapphire track of moonlight that the frail vessel bore away the lovers.Farther and farther from his gaze sped the boat, till at last the speck, scarcely visible, touched the side of the ship that lay lifeless in the glorious bay.At that instant, as if by magic, up sprang, with a glad murmur, the playful and freshening wind: and Glyndon turned to Mejnour and broke the silence.
"Tell me--if thou canst read the future--tell me that HER lot will be fair, and that HER choice at least is wise?""My pupil!" answered Mejnour, in a voice the calmness of which well accorded with the chilling words, "thy first task must be to withdraw all thought, feeling, sympathy from others.The elementary stage of knowledge is to make self, and self alone, thy study and thy world.Thou hast decided thine own career;thou hast renounced love; thou hast rejected wealth, fame, and the vulgar pomps of power.What, then, are all mankind to thee?
To perfect thy faculties, and concentrate thy emotions, is henceforth thy only aim!""And will happiness be the end?"
"If happiness exist," answered Mejnour, "it must be centred in a SELF to which all passion is unknown.But happiness is the last state of being; and as yet thou art on the threshold of the first."As Mejnour spoke, the distant vessel spread its sails to the wind, and moved slowly along the deep.Glyndon sighed, and the pupil and the master retraced their steps towards the city.
BOOK IV.
THE DWELLER OF THE THRESHOLD.
Bey hinter ihm was will! Ich heb ihn auf.
"Das Verschleierte Bildzu Sais"
(Be behind what there may, - I raise the veil.)
