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over the darksome past； and into the starry future； I learn how
great hearts feel what sweetness and glory there is to die for
the things they love！ I saw a father sacrificing himself for his
son； he was subjected to charges which a word of his could
dispel；he was mistaken for his boy。 With what joy he seized
the error； confessed the noble crimes of valour and fidelity
which the son had indeed committed； and went to the doom；
exulting that his death saved the life he had given； not in vain！
I saw women； young； delicate； in the bloom of their beauty； they
had vowed themselves to the cloister。 Hands smeared with the
blood of saints opened the gate that had shut them from the
world； and bade them go forth； forget their vows； forswear the
Divine one these demons would depose； find lovers and helpmates；
and be free。 And some of these young hearts had loved； and even；
though in struggles； loved yet。 Did they forswear the vow？ Did
they abandon the faith？ Did even love allure them？ Mejnour；
with one voice； they preferred to die。 And whence comes this
courage？because such HEARTS LIVE IN SOME MORE ABSTRACT AND
HOLIER LIFE THAN THEIR OWN。 BUT TO LIVE FOREVER UPON THIS EARTH
IS TO LIVE IN NOTHING DIVINER THAN OURSELVES。 Yes； even amidst
this gory butcherdom； God； the Ever…living； vindicates to man the
sanctity of His servant； Death！
。。。
Again I have seen thee in spirit； I have seen and blessed thee；
my sweet child！ Dost thou not know me also in thy dreams？ Dost
thou not feel the beating of my heart through the veil of thy
rosy slumbers？ Dost thou not hear the wings of the brighter
beings that I yet can conjure around thee； to watch； to nourish；
and to save？ And when the spell fades at thy waking； when thine
eyes open to the day； will they not look round for me； and ask
thy mother； with their mute eloquence； 〃Why she has robbed thee
of a father？〃
Woman； dost thou not repent thee？ Flying from imaginary fears；
hast thou not come to the very lair of terror； where Danger sits
visible and incarnate？ Oh； if we could but meet； wouldst thou
not fall upon the bosom thou hast so wronged； and feel； poor
wanderer amidst the storms； as if thou hadst regained the
shelter？ Mejnour； still my researches fail me。 I mingle with
all men； even their judges and their spies； but I cannot yet gain
the clew。 I know that she is here。 I know it by an instinct；
the breath of my child seems warmer and more familiar。
They peer at me with venomous looks； as I pass through their
streets。 With a glance I disarm their malice； and fascinate the
basilisks。 Everywhere I see the track and scent the presence of
the Ghostly One that dwells on the Threshold； and whose victims
are the souls that would ASPIRE； and can only FEAR。 I see its
dim shapelessness going before the men of blood； and marshalling
their way。 Robespierre passed me with his furtive step。 Those
eyes of horror were gnawing into his heart。 I looked down upon
their senate； the grim Phantom sat cowering on its floor。 It
hath taken up its abode in the city of Dread。 And what in truth
are these would…be builders of a new world？ Like the students
who have vainly struggled after our supreme science； they have
attempted what is beyond their power； they have passed from this
solid earth of usages and forms into the land of shadow； and its
loathsome keeper has seized them as its prey。 I looked into the
tyrant's shuddering soul； as it trembled past me。 There； amidst
the ruins of a thousand systems which aimed at virtue； sat Crime；
and shivered at its desolation。 Yet this man is the only
Thinker； the only Aspirant； amongst them all。 He still looks for
a future of peace and mercy； to begin；ay！ at what date？ When
he has swept away every foe。 Fool！ new foes spring from every
drop of blood。 Led by the eyes of the Unutterable； he is walking
to his doom。
O Viola； thy innocence protects thee！ Thou whom the sweet
humanities of love shut out even from the dreams of aerial and
spiritual beauty； making thy heart a universe of visions fairer
than the wanderer over the rosy Hesperus can survey；shall not
the same pure affection encompass thee； even here； with a charmed
atmosphere； and terror itself fall harmless on a life too
innocent for wisdom？
CHAPTER 7。IV。
Ombra piu che di notte； in cui di luce
Raggio misto non e；
。。。
Ne piu il palagio appar； ne piu le sue
Vestigia； ne dir puossiegli qui fue。
〃Ger。 Lib。； canto xvi。…lxix。
（Darkness greater than of night； in which not a ray of light is
mixed；。。。The palace appears no more： not even a vestige；nor
can one say that it has been。）
The clubs are noisy with clamorous frenzy； the leaders are grim
with schemes。 Black Henriot flies here and there； muttering to
his armed troops； 〃Robespierre； your beloved； is in danger！〃
Robespierre stalks perturbed； his list of victims swelling every
hour。 Tallien； the Macduff to the doomed Macbeth； is whispering
courage to his pale conspirators。 Along the streets heavily roll
the tumbrils。 The shops are closed；the people are gorged with
gore； and will lap no more。 And night after night； to the eighty
theatres flock the children of the Revolution； to laugh at the
quips of comedy； and weep gentle tears over imaginary woes！
In a small chamber； in the heart of the city； sits the mother；
watching over her child。 It is quiet； happy noon； the sunlight；
broken by the tall roofs in the narrow street； comes yet through
the open casement； the impartial playfellow of the air； gleesome
alike in temple and prison； hall and hovel； as golden and as
blithe； whether it laugh over the first hour of life； or quiver
in its gay delight on the terror and agony of the last！ The
child； where it lay at the feet of Viola； stretched out its
dimpled hands as if to clasp the dancing motes that revelled in
the beam。 The mother turned her eyes from the glory； it saddened
her yet more。 She turned and sighed。
Is this the same Viola who bloomed fairer than their own Idalia
under the skies of Greece？ How changed！ How pale and worn！ She
sat listlessly； her arms dropping on her knee； the smile that was
habitual to her lips was gone。 A heavy； dull despondency； as if
the life of life were no more； seemed to weigh down her youth；
and make it weary of that happy sun！ In truth； her existence had
languished away since it had wandered； as some melancholy stream；
from the source that fed it。 The sudden enthusiasm of fear or
superstition that had almost； as if still in the unconscious
movements of a dream； led her to fly from Zanoni； had ceased from
the day which dawned upon her in a foreign land。 Thenthere
she felt that in the smile she had evermore abandoned lived her
life。 She did not repent；she would not have recalled the
impulse that winged her flight。 Though the enthusiasm was gone；
the superstition yet remained； she still believed she had saved
her c