at her fancies had brought a sort
of partial delirium, that she was in a state between sleep and waking,
when suddenly one thought became more predominant than the rest. The
chamber which, in that and every house they had inhabited, even that in
the Greek isles, Zanoni had set apart to a solitude on which none might
intrude, the threshold of which even Viola's step was forbid to cross,
and never, hitherto, in that sweet repose of confidence which belongs to
contented love, had she even felt the curious desire to disobey,--now,
that chamber drew her towards it. Perhaps THERE might be found a
somewhat to solve the riddle, to dispel or confirm the doubt: that
thought grew and deepened in its intenseness; it fastened on her as with
a palpable and irresistible grasp; it seemed to raise her limbs without
her will.

And now, through the chamber, along the galleries thou glidest, O lovely
shape! sleep-walking, yet awake. The moon shines on thee as thou glidest
by, casement after casement, white-robed and wandering spirit!--thine
arms crossed upon thy bosom, thine eyes fixed and open, with a calm
unfearing awe. Mother, it is thy child that leads thee on! The fairy
moments go before thee; thou hearest still the clock-knell tolling them
to their graves behind. On, gliding on, thou hast gained the door; no
lock bars thee, no magic spell drives thee back. Daughter of the
dust, thou standest alone with night in the chamber where, pale and
numberless, the hosts of space have gathered round the seer!

CHAPTER 6.VII.

Des Erdenlebens
Schweres Traumbild sinkt, und sinkt, und sinkt.
"Das Ideal und das Lebens."

(The Dream Shape of the heavy earthly life sinks, and sinks, and
sinks.)

She stood within the chamber, and gazed around her; no signs by which an
inquisitor of old could have detected the scholar of the Black Art were
visible. No crucibles and caldrons, no brass-bound volumes and ciphered
girdles, no skulls and cross-bones. Quietly streamed the broad moonlight
through the desolate chamber with its bare, white walls. A few bunches
of withered herbs, a few antique vessels of bronze, placed carelessly on
a wooden form, were all which that curious gaze could identify with the
pursuits of the absent owner. The magic, if it existed, dwelt in the
artificer, and the materials, to other hands, were but herbs and bronze.
So is it ever with thy works and wonders, O Genius,--Seeker of the
Stars! Words thems