The next day, Glyndon bent his steps towards Zicci’s palace. The young
man’s imagination, naturally inflammable, was singularly excited by the
little he had seen and heard of this strange being; a spell he could
neither master nor account for, attracted him towards the stranger.
Zicci’s power seemed mysterious and great, his motives kindly and
benevolent, yet his manners chilling and repellant. Why at one moment
reject Glyndon’s acquaintance, at another save him from danger? How had
Zicci thus acquired the knowledge of enemies unknown to Glyndon himself?
His interest was deeply roused, his gratitude appealed to; he resolved
to make another effort to conciliate Zicci.
The signor was at home, and Glyndon was admitted into a lofty saloon,
where in a few moments Zicci joined him.
“I am come to thank you for your warning last night,” said he, “and to
entreat you to complete my obligation by informing me of the quarter to
which I may look for enmity and peril.”
“You are a gallant, Mr. Glyndon,” said Zicci, with a smile; “and do you
know so little of the South as not to be aware that gallants have always
rivals?”
“Are you serious?” said Glyndon, coloring.
“Most serious. You love Isabel di Pisani; you have for rival one of the
most powerful and relentless of the Neapolitan princes. Your danger is
indeed great.”
“But, pardon me, how came it known to you?”
“I give no account of myself to mortal man,” replied Zicci, haughtily;
“and to me it matters not whether you regard or scorn my warning.”
“Well, if I may not question you, be it so; but at least advise me what
to do.”
“You will not follow my advice.”
“You wrong me! Why?”
“Because you are constitutionally brave; you are fond of excitement and
mystery; you like to be the hero of a romance. I should advise you to
leave Naples, and you will disdain to do so while Naples contains a foe
to shun or a mistress to pursue.”
“You are right,” said the young Englishman, with energy; “and you cannot
reproach me for such a resolution.”
“No, there is another course left to you. Do you love Isabel di Pisani
truly and fervently? If so, marry her, and take a bride to your native
land.”
“Nay,” answered Glyndon, embarrassed. “Isabel is not of my rank; her
character is strange and self-willed; her education neglected. I am
enslaved by her beauty, but I cannot wed her.”
Zicci frowned.
“Your love, then, is but selfish lust; and by that love you will be
betrayed. Young man, Destiny is less inexorable than it appears. The
resources of the great Ruler of the Universe are not so scanty and so
stern as to deny to men the divine privilege of Free Will; all of us
can carve out our own way, and God can make our very contradictions
harmonize with His solemn ends. You have before you an option. Honorable
and generous love may even now work out your happiness and effect your
escape; a frantic and interested passion will but lead you to misery and
doom.”
“Do you pretend, then, to read the Future?”
“I have said all that it pleases me to utter.”
“While you assume the moralist to me, Signor Zicci,” said Glyndon, with
a smile, “if report says true you do not yourself reject the allurements
of unfettered love.”
“If it were necessary that practice square with precept,” said Zicci,
with a sneer, “our pulpits would be empty. Do you think it matters, in
the great aggregate of human destinies, what one man’s conduct may
be? Nothing,--not a grain of dust; but it matters much what are the
sentiments he propagates. His acts are limited and momentary; his
sentiments may pervade the universe, and inspire generations till the
day of doom. All our virtues, all our laws, are drawn from books and
maxims, which are sentiments, not from deeds. Our opinions, young
Englishman, are the angel part of us; our acts the earthly.”
“You have reflected deeply, for an Italian,” said Glyndon.
“Who told you I was an Italian?”
“Are you not of Corsica?”
“Tush!” said Zicci, impatiently turning away. Then, after a pause, he
resumed, in a mild voice: “Glyndon, do you renounce Isabel di Pisani?
Will you take three days to consider of what I have said?”
“Renounce her,--never!”
“Then you will marry her?”
“Impossible.”
“Be it so; she will then renounce you. I tell you that you have rivals.”
“Yes, the Prince di--; but I do not fear him.”
“You have another, whom you will fear more.”
“And who is he?”
“Myself.”
Glyndon turned pale, and started from his seat.
“You, Signor Zicci, you,--and you dare to tell me so?”
“Dare! Alas! you know there is nothing on earth left me to fear!”
These words were not uttered arrogantly, but in a tone of the most
mournful dejection. Glyndon was enraged, confounded, and yet awed.
However, he had a brave English heart within his breast, and he
recovered himself quickly.
“Signor,” said he, calmly, “I am not to be duped by these solemn
phrases and these mystical sympathies. You may have power which I cannot
comprehend or emulate, or you may be but a keen impostor.”
“Well, sir, your logical position is not ill-taken; proceed.”
“I mean then,” continued Glyndon, resolutely, though somewhat
disconcerted, “I mean you to understand, that, though I am not to be
persuaded or compelled by a stranger to marry Isabel di Pisani, I am not
the less determined never tamely to yield her to another.”
Zicci looked gravely at the young man, whose sparkling eyes and
heightened color testified the spirit to support his words, and replied:
“So bold! well, it becomes you. You have courage, then; I thought it.
Perhaps it may be put to a sharper test than you dream of. But take my
advice: wait three days, and tell me then if you will marry this young
person.”
“But if you love her, why, why--”
“Why am I anxious that she should wed another? To save her from myself!
Listen to me. That girl, humble and uneducated though she be, has in her
the seeds of the most lofty qualities and virtues. She can be all to the
man she loves,--all that man can desire in wife or mistress. Her soul,
developed by affection, will elevate your own; it will influence your
fortunes, exalt your destiny; you will become a great and prosperous
man. If, on the contrary, she fall to me, I know not what may be her
lot; but I know that few can pass the ordeal, and hitherto no woman has
survived the struggle.”
As Zicci spoke, his face became livid, and there was something in his
voice that froze the warm blood of his listener.
“What is this mystery which surrounds you?” exclaimed Glyndon, unable to
repress his emotion. “Are you, in truth, different from other men? Have
you passed the boundary of lawful knowledge? Are you, as some declare, a
sorcerer, only a--”
“Hush!” interrupted Zicci, gently, and with a smile of singular but
melancholy sweetness: “have you earned the right to ask me these
questions? The clays of torture and persecution are over; and a man may
live as he pleases, and talk as it suits him, without fear of the
stake and the rack. Since I can defy persecution, pardon me if I do not
succumb to curiosity.”
Glyndon blushed, and rose. In spite of his love for Isabel, and his
natural terror of such a rival, he felt himself irresistibly drawn
towards the very man he had most cause to suspect and dread. It was like
the fascination of the basilisk. He held out his hand to Zicci, saying,
“Well, then, if we are to be rivals, our swords must settle our rights;
till then I would fain be friends.”
“Friends! Pardon me, I like you too well to give you my friendship. You
know not what you ask.”
“Enigmas again!”
“Enigmas!” cried Zicci, passionately, “Nay: can you dare to solve
them! Would you brave all that human heart can conceive of peril and
of horror, so that you at last might stand separated from this visible
universe side by side with me? When you can dare this, and when you are
fit to dare it, I may give you my right hand and call you friend.”
“I could dare everything and all things for the attainment of superhuman
wisdom,” said Glyndon; and his countenance was lighted up with wild and
intense enthusiasm.
Zicci observed him in thoughtful silence.
“He may be worthy,” he muttered; “he may, yet--” He broke off abruptly;
then, speaking aloud, “Go, Glyndon,” said he; “in three days we shall
meet again.”
“Where?”
“Perhaps where you can least anticipate. In any case, we shall meet.”