“As with my youth, so with Mejnour’s age: he will tell you that life to him is but a power to examine; and not till he has exhausted all the marvels which the Creator has sown on earth, would he desire new habitations for the renewed Spirit to explore. We are the types of the two essences of what is imperishable,--‘ART, that enjoys; and SCIENCE, that contemplates!’ And now, that thou mayest be contented that the secrets are not vouchsafed to thee, learn that so utterly must the idea detach itself from what makes up the occupation and excitement of men; so must it be void of whatever would covet, or love, or hate,--that for the ambitious man, for the lover, the hater, the power avails not. And I, at last, bound and blinded by the most common of household ties; I, darkened and helpless, adjure thee, the baffled and discontented,--I adjure thee to direct, to guide me; where are they? Oh, tell me,--speak! My wife,--my child? Silent!--oh, thou knowest now that I am no sorcerer, no enemy. I cannot give thee what thy faculties deny,--I cannot achieve what the passionless Mejnour failed to accomplish; but I can give thee the next-best boon, perhaps the fairest,--I can reconcile thee to the daily world, and place peace between thy conscience and thyself.” “Wilt thou promise?” “By their sweet lives, I promise!” Glyndon looked and believed. He whispered the address to the house whither his fatal step already had brought woe and doom. “Bless thee for this,” exclaimed Zanoni, passionately, “and thou shalt be blessed! What! couldst thou not perceive that at the entrance to all the grander worlds dwell the race that intimidate and awe? Who in thy daily world ever left the old regions of Custom and Prescription, and felt not the first seizure of the shapeless and nameless Fear? Everywhere around thee where men aspire and labour, though they see it not,--in the closet of the sage, in the council of the demagogue, in the camp of the warrior,--everywhere cowers and darkens the Unutterable Horror. But there, where thou hast ventured, alone is the Phantom VISIBLE; and never will it cease to haunt, till thou canst pass to the Infinite, as the seraph; or return to the Familiar, as a child! But answer me this: when, seeking to adhere to some calm resolve of virtue, the Phantom hath stalked suddenly to thy side; when its voice hath whispered thee despair; when its ghastly eyes would scare thee back to those scenes of earthly craft or riotous excitement from which, as it leaves thee to worse foes to the soul, its presence is ever absent,--hast thou never bravely resisted the spectre and thine own horror; hast thou never said, ‘Come what may, to Virtue I will cling?’” “Alas!” answered Glyndon, “only of late have I dared to do so.” “And thou hast felt then that the Phantom grew more dim and its power more faint?” “It is true.”