zanoni-第106部分

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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