rom one of its green sloping heights, the island he had selected seemed
one delicious garden. The towers and turrets of its capital gleaming
amidst groves of oranges and lemons; vineyards and olive-woods filling
up the valleys, and clambering along the hill-sides; and villa, farm,
and cottage covered with luxuriant trellises of dark-green leaves and
purple fruit. For there the prodigal beauty yet seems half to justify
those graceful superstitions of a creed that, too enamoured of earth,
rather brought the deities to man, than raised the man to their less
alluring and less voluptuous Olympus.

And still to the fishermen, weaving yet their antique dances on the
sand; to the maiden, adorning yet, with many a silver fibula, her glossy
tresses under the tree that overshadows her tranquil cot,--the same
Great Mother that watched over the wise of Samos, the democracy of
Corcyra, the graceful and deep-taught loveliness of Miletus, smiles
as graciously as of yore. For the North, philosophy and freedom are
essentials to human happiness; in the lands which Aphrodite rose from
the waves to govern, as the Seasons, hand in hand, stood to welcome her
on the shores, Nature is all sufficient. (Homeric Hymn.)

The isle which Zanoni had selected was one of the loveliest in that
divine sea. His abode, at some distance from the city, but near one of
the creeks on the shore, belonged to a Venetian, and, though small, had
more of elegance than the natives ordinarily cared for. On the seas, and
in sight, rode his vessel. His Indians, as before, ministered in
mute gravity to the service of the household. No spot could be more
beautiful,--no solitude less invaded. To the mysterious knowledge of
Zanoni, to the harmless ignorance of Viola, the babbling and garish
world of civilised man was alike unheeded. The loving sky and the lovely
earth are companions enough to Wisdom and to Ignorance while they love.

Although, as I have before said, there was nothing in the visible
occupations of Zanoni that betrayed a cultivator of the occult sciences,
his habits were those of a man who remembers or reflects. He loved
to roam alone, chiefly at dawn, or at night, when the moon was clear
(especially in each month, at its rise and full), miles and miles away
over the rich inlands of the island, and to cull herbs and flowers,
which he hoarded with jealous care. Sometimes, at the dead of night,
Viola would wake by an instinct that told her he was not by her sid