CHAPTER IV.

The palace of Zicci was among the noblest in Naples. It still stands,

though ruined and dismantled, in one of those antique streets from which

the old races of the Norman and the Spaniard have long since vanished.

He ascended the vast staircase, and entered the rooms reserved for his

private hours. They were no wise remarkable except for their luxury and

splendor, and the absence of what men so learned as Zicci was reputed,

generally prize, namely, books. Zicci seemed to know everything that

books can teach; yet of books themselves he spoke and thought with the

most profound contempt.

He threw himself on a sofa, and dismissed his attendants for the night;

and here it may be observed that Zicci had no one servant who knew

anything of his origin, birth, or history. Some of his attendants he

had brought with him from other cities; the rest he had engaged at

Naples. He hired those only whom wealth can make subservient. His

expenditure was most lavish, his generosity, regal; but his orders were

ever given as those of a general to his army. The least disobedience,

the least hesitation, and the offender was at once dismissed. He was a

man who sought tools, and never made confidants.

Zicci remained for a considerable time motionless and thoughtful. The

hand of the clock before him pointed to the first hour of morning. The

solemn voice of the timepiece aroused him from his revery.

"One sand more out of the mighty hour-glass," said he, rising; "one hour

nearer to the last! I am weary of humanity. I will enter into one of

the countless worlds around me." He lifted the arras that clothed the

walls, and touching a strong iron door (then made visible) with a minute

key which he wore in a ring, passed into an inner apartment lighted by a

single lamp of extraordinary lustre. The room was small; a few phials

and some dried herbs were ranged in shelves on the wall, which was hung

with snow-white cloth of coarse texture. From the shelves Zicci

selected one of the phials, and poured the contents into a crystal cup.

The liquid was colorless, and sparkled rapidly up in bubbles of light;

it almost seemed to evaporate ere it reached his lips. But when the

strange beverage was quaffed, a sudden change was visible in the

countenance of Zicci: his beauty became yet more dazzling, his eyes

shone with intense fire, and his form seemed to grow more youthful and

ethereal.

Zicci: A Tale — Volume 01 · 第 4 / 9 章