!" he said, forcing a smile; "I yield. Let me prove that I do not
yield ungraciously; will you favour me with your presence at a little
feast I propose to give in honour," he added, with a sardonic mockery,
"of the elevation of my kinsman, the late Cardinal, of pious memory, to
the true seat of St. Peter?"

"It is, indeed, a happiness to hear one command of yours I can obey."

Zanoni then turned the conversation, talked lightly and gayly, and soon
afterwards departed.

"Villain!" then exclaimed the prince, grasping Mascari by the collar,
"you betrayed me!"

"I assure your Excellency that the dice were properly arranged; he
should have thrown twelve; but he is the Devil, and that's the end of
it."

"There is no time to be lost," said the prince, quitting his hold of his
parasite, who quietly resettled his cravat.

"My blood is up,--I will win this girl, if I die for it! What noise is
that?"

"It is but the sword of your illustrious ancestor that has fallen from
the table."

CHAPTER 3.VII.

Il ne faut appeler aucun ordre si ce n'est en tems clair et
serein.
"Les Clavicules du Rabbi Salomon."

(No order of spirits must be invoked unless the weather be clear
and serene.)

Letter from Zanoni to Mejnour.

My art is already dim and troubled. I have lost the tranquillity which
is power. I cannot influence the decisions of those whom I would most
guide to the shore; I see them wander farther and deeper into the
infinite ocean where our barks sail evermore to the horizon that flies
before us! Amazed and awed to find that I can only warn where I would
control, I have looked into my own soul. It is true that the desires of
earth chain me to the present, and shut me from the solemn secrets which
Intellect, purified from all the dross of the clay, alone can examine
and survey. The stern condition on which we hold our nobler and diviner
gifts darkens our vision towards the future of those for whom we know
the human infirmities of jealousy or hate or love. Mejnour, all around
me is mist and haze; I have gone back in our sublime existence; and
from the bosom of the imperishable youth that blooms only in the spirit,
springs up the dark poison-flower of human love.

This man is not worthy of her,--I know that truth; yet in his nature
are the seeds of good and greatness, if the tares and weeds of worldly
vanities and fears would suffer them to grow. If she were his, and I had
thus transplante