he was worthy to be of us, worthy to be the pupil of Mejnour,--whom you now see before you.” The Prince, who had listened with deep and breathless attention to the words 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 younger apparently 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 save his faith in a charlatan--was found dead in his bed in the very hour when his colossal plans were ripe for execution, and that Mejnour was guilty of his murder?” “Alas!” answered the stranger, in a voice of great sadness, “had he but listened to Mejnour, had he delayed the last and most perilous ordeal of daring wisdom until the requisite training and initiation had been completed, your ancestor would have stood with me upon an eminence which the waters of Death itself wash everlastingly, but cannot overflow. Your grandsire resisted my fervent prayers, disobeyed my most absolute commands, and in the sublime rashness of a soul that panted for the last secrets, 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 long left behind. It was the day before the duke took the fatal draught which 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 was standing alone at moonlight on the ruins of Persepolis,--for my wanderings, space hath no obstacle. But a truce with this: I loved your grandsire; I would save the last of his race. Oppose not thyself to Zicci. Oppose not thyself to thine evil passions. Draw back from the precipice while there is yet time. In thy front and in thine eyes I detect some of that diviner glory which belonged to thy race. Thou hast in thee some germs of their hereditary genius, but they are choked up by worse than thy hereditary vices. Recollect, by genius thy house rose,--by vice it ever failed to perpetuate its power. In the laws which regulate the Universe it is decreed that nothing wicked can long endure. Be wise, and let history warn thee. Thou standest on the verge of two worlds,--the Past and the Future; and voices from either shriek omen in thy ear. I have done. I bid thee farewell.” “Not so; thou shalt not quit these walls. I will make experiment of thy boasted power. What ho there! ho!” The Prince shouted; the room was filled with his minions. “Seize that man!” he cried, pointing to the spot which had been filled by the form of Mejnour. To his inconceivable amaze and horror, the spot was vacant. The mysterious stranger had vanished like a dream.