e world is more pretty than that
same species of defence; it is the charm of the African necromancer who
professed with a feather to turn aside the winds.

The Egyptian was intoxicated and subdued by her grace even more than by
her beauty: it was with difficulty that he suppressed his emotions;
alas! the feather was only powerful against the summer breezes--it would
be the sport of the storm.

Suddenly, as they stood in one hall, which was surrounded by draperies
of silver and white, the Egyptian clapped his hands, and, as if by
enchantment, a banquet rose from the floor--a couch or throne, with a
crimson canopy, ascended simultaneously at the feet of Ione--and at the
same instant from behind the curtains swelled the invisible and softest
music.

Arbaces placed himself at the feet of Ione--and children, young and
beautiful as Loves, ministered to the feast.

The feast was over, the music sank into a low and subdued strain, and
Arbaces thus addressed his beautiful guest:

'Hast thou never in this dark and uncertain world--hast thou never
aspired, my pupil, to look beyond--hast thou never wished to put aside
the veil of futurity, and to behold on the shores of Fate the shadowy
images of things to be? For it is not the past alone that has its
ghosts: each event to come has also its spectrum--its shade; when the
hour arrives, life enters it, the shadow becomes corporeal, and walks
the world. Thus, in the land beyond the grave, are ever two impalpable
and spiritual hosts--the things to be, the things that have been! If by
our wisdom we can penetrate that land, we see the one as the other, and
learn, as I have learned, not alone the mysteries of the dead, but also
the destiny of the living.'

'As thou hast learned!--Can wisdom attain so far?'

'Wilt thou prove my knowledge, Ione, and behold the representation of
thine own fate? It is a drama more striking than those of AEschylus: it
is one I have prepared for thee, if thou wilt see the shadows perform
their part.'

The Neapolitan trembled; she thought of Glaucus, and sighed as well as
trembled: were their destinies to be united? Half incredulous, half
believing, half awed, half alarmed by the words of her strange host, she
remained for some moments silent, and then answered:

'It may revolt--it may terrify; the knowledge of the future will perhaps
only embitter the present!'

'Not so, Ione. I have myself looked upon thy future lot, and the ghosts
of thy Futu