freedom from youth's
sweetest mistress--illusion, and spend the twilight of old age groping
for what they have lost."

"Yours must be a barren outlook. If I thought all the world a mere dream
of some wanton god I should lay down my pen--for I should have nothing
to say."

"There can be nothing really new to say until man climbs up to another
planet or until creatures of another planet climb down to this one."

"A doctrine of despair."

"Not at all--unless for the materialist."

"How is that?"

"Would you trammel the soul with the shackles of the flesh?"

"You mean that literature and art persistently look in the gutter for
subjects when they would be more worthily employed in questioning the
stars?"

"I mean that if literature and art were not trades, inspiration might
have a chance."

"And you regard inspiration as a spiritual journey?"

"Certainly; and imagination as the memory of the soul. There is no such
thing as intellectual creation. We are instruments only. John Newman did
not invent _The Dream of Gerontius_; he remembered it. There is a strain
in the music of _Samson et Dalila_ which was sung in the temples of
Nineveh, where it must have been heard by Saint Saens. The wooing of
Tarone in your _Francesca of the Lilies_ is a faithful account of a
scene enacted in Florence during the feuds between the Amidei and
Buondelmonti."

Paul Mario fell silent. The storm was passing, and now raged over the
remote hills which looked out upon the sea; but the darkness prevailed,
and he became aware of a vague disquiet which stirred within him. The
conversation of Jules Thessaly impressed him strangely, not because of
its hard brilliance, but because of a masterful certainty in that quiet
voice. His words concerning Newman and Saint Saens were spoken as though
he meant them to be accepted literally--and there was something
terrifying in the idea. For he averred that which many have suspected,
but which few have claimed to know. Presently Paul found speech again.

"You believe, as I believe, that our 'instincts' are the lessons of
earlier incarnations. Perhaps you are a disciple of Pythagoras, Mr.
Thessaly?"

"I am, in one sense. I am a disciple of his Master."

"Do you refer to Orpheus?"

Jules Thessaly hesitated, but the pause was scarcely perceptible. "The
Orphic traditions certainly embody at least one cosmic truth."

"And it is?"

"That for every man there is a perfect maid, and for every maid a
per