habite la terre.

To the right two latticed doors, reminding you of Grand Cairo or
Persepolis, ingeniously conceal the commonplace entrance from the
Crescent. The singular and harmonious light of this mysterious vestibule
is produced by crimson silk strained over the fanlight of the outer door.
"This place," I observed, "puts one in mind of the Hall of Eblis." "You
are quite right," he observed, "this is unquestionably the Hall of
Eblis." "Those latticed doors," I continued, "seem to lead to the small
apartment where the three princes, Alasi, Barkiarokh, and Kalilah,
related to Vathek and Nouronchar their adventures." He seemed amused at
my observations, and said, "Then you have read 'Vathek.' How do you like
it?" "Vastly. I read it in English many years ago, but never in
French." "Then read it in French," said Mr. Beckford. "The French
edition is much finer than the English."

We mounted the staircase. Above you in open niches are Etruscan vases.
The ceiling is arched and has belts at intervals. "I wished to exclude
the draughts," said Mr. Beckford, "and to do away with the cold and
uncomfortable appearance you generally have in staircases." The effect
of the whole is so novel that you lose all idea of stairs, and seem
merely going from one room to another. As you stand on the landing the
vaulted and belted ceiling behind you has the appearance of a row of
arches in perspective. The same solemn and mysterious gloom pervades the
staircase. The architect has frequently entreated to be allowed to
introduce a little more light, but in vain. The author of "Vathek" will
not consent to the least alteration of the present mystical effect, and
he is quite right. This warm and indefinite light produces not only the
effect of air, but also of space, and makes the passage before noticed,
seen through the latticed doors, apparently of lines of real dimensions.

Mr. Beckford drew aside a curtain. We entered the smaller of two lovely
drawing rooms lately fitted up. Before us, over the mantelpiece, was
suspended a magnificent full length portrait by Gaspar de Crayer of
Philip II. of Spain. Just then my head was too full of the Hall of
Eblis, of "Vathek" and its associations, for mere ordinary admiration of
even one of the finest portraits painted, and on Mr. Beckford pointing
out the whitefaced monarch I almost involuntarily ejaculated "Pale slave
of Eblis." He burst out laughing. "Eh! eh! what? His face is pal