and boldly. He looked at him with something almost like
admiration in his passionless and frigid features, and muttered, half
to himself, "Surely, in so much courage the true disciple is found at
last." Then, speaking aloud, he added, "Be it so; man's first initiation
is in TRANCE. In dreams commences all human knowledge; in dreams
hovers over measureless space the first faint bridge between spirit and
spirit,--this world and the worlds beyond! Look steadfastly on yonder
star!"

Glyndon obeyed, and Mejnour retired into the chamber, from which there
then slowly emerged a vapour, somewhat paler and of fainter odour than
that which had nearly produced so fatal an effect on his frame. This,
on the contrary, as it coiled around him, and then melted in thin spires
into the air, breathed a refreshing and healthful fragrance. He still
kept his eyes on the star, and the star seemed gradually to fix and
command his gaze. A sort of languor next seized his frame, but without,
as he thought, communicating itself to the mind; and as this crept over
him, he felt his temples sprinkled with some volatile and fiery essence.
At the same moment a slight tremor shook his limbs and thrilled through
his veins. The languor increased, still he kept his gaze upon the star,
and now its luminous circumference seemed to expand and dilate. It
became gradually softer and clearer in its light; spreading wider and
broader, it diffused all space,--all space seemed swallowed up in it.
And at last, in the midst of a silver shining atmosphere, he felt as if
something burst within his brain,--as if a strong chain were broken; and
at that moment a sense of heavenly liberty, of unutterable delight, of
freedom from the body, of birdlike lightness, seemed to float him
into the space itself. "Whom, now upon earth, dost thou wish to see?"
whispered the voice of Mejnour. "Viola and Zanoni!" answered Glyndon, in
his heart; but he felt that his lips moved not.

Suddenly at that thought,--through this space, in which nothing save one
mellow translucent light had been discernible,--a swift succession
of shadowy landscapes seemed to roll: trees, mountains, cities, seas,
glided along like the changes of a phantasmagoria; and at last,
settled and stationary, he saw a cave by the gradual marge of an ocean
shore,--myrtles and orange-trees clothing the gentle banks. On a height,
at a distance, gleamed the white but shattered relics of some ruined
heathen edifice; and the m