按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！
As Fillide left the room； Nicot's eyes again rested on the gold；
it was much；much more than he had dared to hope for； and as he
peered into the well and opened the drawers； he perceived a
packet of letters in the well…known hand of Camille Desmoulins。
He seizedhe opened the packet； his looks brightened as he
glanced over a few sentences。 〃This would give fifty Glyndons to
the guillotine！〃 he muttered； and thrust the packet into his
bosom。
O artist！O haunted one！O erring genius！behold the two worst
foes；the False Ideal that knows no God； and the False Love that
burns from the corruption of the senses； and takes no lustre from
the soul！
CHAPTER 7。III。
Liebe sonnt das Reich der Nacht。
〃Der Triumph der Liebe。〃
（Love illumes the realm of Night。）
Letter from Zanoni to Mejnour。
Paris。
Dost thou remember in the old time； when the Beautiful yet dwelt
in Greece； how we two； in the vast Athenian Theatre； witnessed
the birth of Words as undying as ourselves？ Dost thou remember
the thrill of terror that ran through that mighty audience； when
the wild Cassandra burst from her awful silence to shriek to her
relentless god！ How ghastly； at the entrance of the House of
Atreus； about to become her tomb； rang out her exclamations of
foreboding woe： 〃Dwelling abhorred of heaven！human shamble…
house and floor blood…bespattered！〃 （Aesch。 〃Agam。〃 1098。） Dost
thou remember how； amidst the breathless awe of those assembled
thousands； I drew close to thee； and whispered； 〃Verily； no
prophet like the poet！ This scene of fabled horror comes to me
as a dream； shadowing forth some likeness in my own remoter
future！〃 As I enter this slaughter…house that scene returns to
me； and I hearken to the voice of Cassandra ringing in my ears。
A solemn and warning dread gathers round me； as if I too were
come to find a grave； and 〃the Net of Hades〃 had already
entangled me in its web！ What dark treasure…houses of
vicissitude and woe are our memories become！ What our lives； but
the chronicles of unrelenting death！ It seems to me as yesterday
when I stood in the streets of this city of the Gaul； as they
shone with plumed chivalry； and the air rustled with silken
braveries。 Young Louis； the monarch and the lover； was victor of
the Tournament at the Carousel； and all France felt herself
splendid in the splendour of her gorgeous chief！ Now there is
neither throne nor altar； and what is in their stead？ I see it
yonderthe GUILLOTINE！ It is dismal to stand amidst the ruins
of mouldering cities； to startle the serpent and the lizard
amidst the wrecks of Persepolis and Thebes； but more dismal still
to stand as Ithe stranger from Empires that have ceased to be
stand now amidst the yet ghastlier ruins of Law and Order； the
shattering of mankind themselves！ Yet here； even here； Love； the
Beautifier； that hath led my steps； can walk with unshrinking
hope through the wilderness of Death。 Strange is the passion
that makes a world in itself； that individualises the One amidst
the Multitude； that； through all the changes of my solemn life；
yet survives； though ambition and hate and anger are dead； the
one solitary angel； hovering over a universe of tombs on its two
tremulous and human wings；Hope and Fear！
How is it； Mejnour； that； as my diviner art abandoned me；as； in
my search for Viola； I was aided but by the ordinary instincts of
the merest mortal；how is it that I have never desponded； that I
have felt in every difficulty the prevailing prescience that we
should meet at last？ So cruelly was every vestige of her flight
concealed from me；so suddenly； so secretly had she fled； that
all the spies； all the authorities of Venice； could give me no
clew。 All Italy I searched in vain！ Her young home at Naples！
how still； in its humble chambers； there seemed to linger the
fragrance of her presence！ All the sublimest secrets of our lore
failed me；failed to bring her soul visible to mine； yet morning
and night； thou lone and childless one； morning and night；
detached from myself； I can commune with my child！ There in that
most blessed； typical； and mysterious of all relations； Nature
herself appears to supply what Science would refuse。 Space
cannot separate the father's watchful soul from the cradle of his
first…born！ I know not of its resting…place and home；my
visions picture not the land；only the small and tender life to
which all space is as yet the heritage！ For to the infant；
before reason dawns；before man's bad passions can dim the
essence that it takes from the element it hath left； there is no
peculiar country； no native city； and no mortal language。 Its
soul as yet is the denizen of all airs and of every world； and in
space its soul meets with mine；the child communes with the
father！ Cruel and forsaking one；thou for whom I left the
wisdom of the spheres； thou whose fatal dower has been the
weakness and terrors of humanity；couldst thou think that young
soul less safe on earth because I would lead it ever more up to
heaven！ Didst thou think that I could have wronged mine own？
Didst thou not know that in its serenest eyes the life that I
gave it spoke to warn； to upbraid the mother who would bind it to
the darkness and pangs of the prison…house of clay？ Didst thou
not feel that it was I who； permitted by the Heavens； shielded it
from suffering and disease？ And in its wondrous beauty； I
blessed the holy medium through which； at last； my spirit might
confer with thine！
And how have I tracked them hither？ I learned that thy pupil had
been at Venice。 I could not trace the young and gentle neophyte
of Parthenope in the description of the haggard and savage
visitor who had come to Viola before she fled； but when I would
have summoned his IDEA before me； it refused to obey； and I knew
then that his fate had become entwined with Viola's。 I have
tracked him； then； to this Lazar House。 I arrived but yesterday；
I have not yet discovered him。
。。。
I have just returned from their courts of justice；dens where
tigers arraign their prey。 I find not whom I would seek。 They
are saved as yet； but I recognise in the crimes of mortals the
dark wisdom of the Everlasting。 Mejnour； I see here； for the
first time； how majestic and beauteous a thing is death！ Of what
sublime virtues we robbed ourselves； when； in the thirst for
virtue； we attained the art by which we can refuse to die！ When
in some happy clime； where to breathe is to enjoy； the charnel…
house swallows up the young and fair； when in the noble pursuit
of knowledge； Death comes to the student； and shuts out the
enchanted land which was opening to his gaze；how natural for us
to desire to live； how natural to make perpetual life the first
object of research！ But here； from my tower of time； looking
over the darksome past； and into the starry future； I learn how
great hearts feel what sweetness and glory there is to die for