ughter!" He
assisted her to rise, and imprinted a passionate kiss upon her hand.
"From this hour I count you as one of mine," he said; "you shall be
received into the holy band of spirits! You shall be consecrated, and
enter the Inner Temple. Are you prepared?" "I am, master," she humbly
replied.

"To-morrow the Temple brothers will open the temple of bliss to you. You
shall hear, see, and be silent." "I will see, hear, and be silent," she
murmured.

"When evening sets in, send away your servants," commanded Cagliostro.
"Let the doors stand open; they shall be guarded, that no one may enter
but the summoned. Art thou prepared?"

"I am, master!"

"Withdraw now to your room, Wilhelmine, and elevate your thoughts in
devotion and contrition, and await the future. Kneel, my daughter,
kneel!" She sank upon her knees. "Bless me, master, bless me!" "I bless
you!"

She felt a hot, burning sensation upon her forehead, and suddenly a
bright light shone in the obscure room. Wilhelmine screamed, and covered
her eyes. When she ventured to look up, only soft moonlight
penetrated from the high window into the apartment, and she was alone.
"To-morrow--to-morrow, at midnight!" she murmured, shuddering, and
casting a timid look around.

BOOK II. ROSICRUCIANS AND POWERFUL GENIUSES

CHAPTER X. GOETHE IN BERLIN.

"I wish I only knew whether it were a man, or whether the god Apollo
has really appeared to me in human form," sighed Conrector Moritz, as he
paced his room--a strange, gloomy apartment, quite in keeping with the
singular occupant--gray walls, with Greek apothegms inscribed upon them
in large letters--dirty windows, pasted over with strips of paper;
high, open book-shelves, containing several hundred books, some neatly
arranged, others thrown together in confusion. In the midst of a chaos
of books and papers stood a colossal bust of the Apollo-Belvedere upon
a table near the window, the whiteness and beauty of which were in
singular contrast, to the dust and disorder which surrounded it.

At the back of the room was an open wardrobe, filled with gay-colored
garments. A beautiful carpet of brilliant colors covered the middle of
the dirty floor, and upon this paced to and fro the strange occupant
of this strange room, Philip Charles Moritz, conrector of the college
attached to the Gray Monastery. There was no trace of the bearing and
demeanor which distinguished him at the parade at Potsdam yesterday--no
trace o