In　his　travels　he　had　listened　with　vivid　interest；　at　least；　if
  not　with　implicit　belief；　to　the　wonders　told　of　each　more
  renowned　Ghost…seer；　and　his　mind　was　therefore　prepared　for　the
  impression　which　the　mysterious　Zanoni　at　first　sight　had
  produced　upon　it。
  There　might　be　another　cause　for　this　disposition　to　credulity。
  A　remote　ancestor　of　Glyndon's　on　the　mother's　side；　had　achieved
  no　inconsiderable　reputation　as　a　philosopher　and　alchemist。
  Strange　stories　were　afloat　concerning　this　wise　progenitor。　　He
  was　said　to　have　lived　to　an　age　far　exceeding　the　allotted
  boundaries　of　mortal　existence；　and　to　have　preserved　to　the　last
  the　appearance　of　middle　life。　　He　had　died　at　length；　it　was
  supposed；　of　grief　for　the　sudden　death　of　a　great…grandchild；
  the　only　creature　he　had　ever　appeared　to　love。　　The　works　of
  this　philosopher；　though　rare；　were　extant；　and　found　in　the
  library　of　Glyndon's　home。　　Their　Platonic　mysticism；　their　bold
  assertions；　the　high　promises　that　might　be　detected　through
  their　figurative　and　typical　phraseology；　had　early　made　a　deep
  impression　on　the　young　imagination　of　Clarence　Glyndon。　　His
  parents；　not　alive　to　the　consequences　of　encouraging　fancies
  which　the　very　enlightenment　of　the　age　appeared　to　them
  sufficient　to　prevent　or　dispel；　were　fond；　in　the　long　winter
  nights；　of　conversing　on　the　traditional　history　of　this
  distinguished　progenitor。　　And　Clarence　thrilled　with　a　fearful
  pleasure　when　his　mother　playfully　detected　a　striking　likeness
  between　the　features　of　the　young　heir　and　the　faded　portrait　of
  the　alchemist　that　overhung　their　mantelpiece；　and　was　the　boast
  of　their　household　and　the　admiration　of　their　friends；the
  child　is；　indeed；　more　often　than　we　think　for；　〃the　father　of
  the　man。〃
  I　have　said　that　Glyndon　was　fond　of　pleasure。　　Facile；　as　genius
  ever　must　be；　to　cheerful　impression；　his　careless　artist…life；
  ere　artist…life　settles　down　to　labour；　had　wandered　from　flower
  to　flower。　　He　had　enjoyed；　almost　to　the　reaction　of　satiety；
  the　gay　revelries　of　Naples；　when　he　fell　in　love　with　the　face
  and　voice　of　Viola　Pisani。　　But　his　love；　like　his　ambition；　was
  vague　and　desultory。　　It　did　not　satisfy　his　whole　heart　and　fill
  up　his　whole　nature；　not　from　want　of　strong　and　noble　passions；
  but　because　his　mind　was　not　yet　matured　and　settled　enough　for
  their　development。　　As　there　is　one　season　for　the　blossom；
  another　for　the　fruit；　so　it　is　not　till　the　bloom　of　fancy
  begins　to　fade；　that　the　heart　ripens　to　the　passions　that　the
  bloom　precedes　and　foretells。　　Joyous　alike　at　his　lonely　easel
  or　amidst　his　boon　companions；　he　had　not　yet　known　enough　of
  sorrow　to　love　deeply。　　For　man　must　be　disappointed　with　the
  lesser　things　of　life　before　he　can　comprehend　the　full　value　of
  the　greatest。　　It　is　the　shallow　sensualists　of　France；　who；　in
  their　salon…language；　call　love　〃a　folly；〃love；　better
  understood；　is　wisdom。　　Besides；　the　world　was　too　much　with
  Clarence　Glyndon。　　His　ambition　of　art　was　associated　with　the
  applause　and　estimation　of　that　miserable　minority　of　the　surface
  that　we　call　the　Public。
  Like　those　who　deceive；　he　was　ever　fearful　of　being　himself　the
  dupe。　　He　distrusted　the　sweet　innocence　of　Viola。　　He　could　not
  venture　the　hazard　of　seriously　proposing　marriage　to　an　Italian
  actress；　but　the　modest　dignity　of　the　girl；　and　something　good
  and　generous　in　his　own　nature；　had　hitherto　made　him　shrink　from
  any　more　worldly　but　less　honourable　designs。　　Thus　the
  familiarity　between　them　seemed　rather　that　of　kindness　and
  regard　than　passion。　　He　attended　the　theatre；　he　stole　behind
  the　scenes　to　converse　with　her；　he　filled　his　portfolio　with
  countless　sketches　of　a　beauty　that　charmed　him　as　an　artist　as
  well　as　lover；　and　day　after　day　he　floated　on　through　a　changing
  sea　of　doubt　and　irresolution；　of　affection　and　distrust。　　The
  last；　indeed；　constantly　sustained　against　his　better　reason　by
  the　sober　admonitions　of　Mervale；　a　matter…of…fact　man！
  The　day　following　that　eve　on　which　this　section　of　my　story
  opens；　Glyndon　was　riding　alone　by　the　shores　of　the　Neapolitan
  sea；　on　the　other　side　of　the　Cavern　of　Posilipo。　　It　was　past
  noon；　the　sun　had　lost　its　early　fervour；　and　a　cool　breeze
  sprung　up　voluptuously　from　the　sparkling　sea。　　Bending　over　a
  fragment　of　stone　near　the　roadside；　he　perceived　the　form　of　a
  man；　and　when　he　approached；　he　recognised　Zanoni。
  The　Englishman　saluted　him　courteously。　　〃Have　you　discovered
  some　antique？〃　said　he；　with　a　smile；　〃they　are　common　as　pebbles
  on　this　road。〃
  〃No；〃　replied　Zanoni；　〃it　was　but　one　of　those　antiques　that　have
  their　date；　indeed；　from　the　beginning　of　the　world；　but　which
  Nature　eternally　withers　and　renews。〃　　So　saying；　he　showed
  Glyndon　a　small　herb　with　a　pale…blue　flower；　and　then　placed　it
  carefully　in　his　bosom。
  〃You　are　an　herbalist？〃
  〃I　am。〃
  〃It　is；　I　am　told；　a　study　full　of　interest。〃
  〃To　those　who　understand　it；　doubtless。〃
  〃Is　the　knowledge；　then；　so　rare？〃
  〃Rare！　　The　deeper　knowledge　is　perhaps　rather；　among　the　arts；
  LOST　to　the　modern　philosophy　of　commonplace　and　surface！　　Do　you
  imagine　there　was　no　foundation　for　those　traditions　which　come
  dimly　down　from　remoter　ages；as　shells　now　found　on　the
  mountain…tops　inform　us　where　the　seas　have　been？　　What　was　the
  old　Colchian　magic；　but　the　minute　study　of　Nature　in　her
  lowliest　works？　　What　the　fable　of　Medea；　but　a　proof　of　the
  powers　that　may　be　extracted　from　the　germ　and　leaf？　　The　most
  gifted　of　all　the　Priestcrafts；　the　mysterious　sisterhoods　of
  Cuth；　concerning　whose　incantations　Learning　vainly　bewilders
  itself　amidst　the　maze　of　legends；　sought　in　the　meanest　herbs
  what；　perhaps；　the　Babylonian　Sages　explored　in　vain　amidst　the
  loftiest　stars。　　Tradition　yet　tells　you　that　there　existed　a
  race　（〃Plut。　　Symp。〃　l。　5。　c。　7。）　who　could　slay　their　enemies
  from　afar；　without　weapon；　without　movement。　　The　herb　that　ye
  tread　on　may　have　deadlier　powers　than　your　engineers　can　give　to
  their　mightiest　instruments　of　war。　　Can　you　guess　that　to　these
  Italian　shores；　to　the　old　Circaean　Promontory；　came　the　Wise
  from　the　farthest　East；　to　search　for　plants　and　simples　which
  your　Pharmacists　of　the　Counter　would　fling　from　them　as　weeds？
  The　first　herbaliststhe　master　chemists　of　the　worldwere　the
  tribe　that　the　ancient　reverence　called　by　the　name　of　Titans。
  （Syncellus；　page　14。〃Chemistry　the　Invention　of　the　Giants。〃）
  I　remember　once；　by　the　Hebrus；　in　the　reign　of　　　But　this
  talk；〃　said　Zanoni；　checking　himself　abruptly；　and　with　a　cold
  smile；　〃serves　only　to　waste　your　time　and　my　own。〃　　He　paused；
  looked　steadily　at　Glyndon；　and　continued；　〃Young　man；　think　you
  that　vague　curiosity　will　supply　the　place　of　earnest　labour？　　I
  read　your　heart。　　You　wish　to　know　me；　and　not　this　humble　herb：
  but　pass　on；　your　desire　cannot　be　satisfied。〃
  〃You　have　not　the　politeness　of　your　countrymen；〃　said　Glyndon；
  somewhat　discomposed。　　〃Suppose　I　were　desirous　to　cultivate　your
  acquaintance；　why　should　you　reject　my　advances？〃
  〃I　reject　no　man's　advances；〃　answered　Zanoni；　〃I　must　know　them
  if　they　so　desire；　but　ME；　in　return；　they　can　never　comprehend。
  If　you　ask　my　acquaintance；　it　is　yours；　but　I　would　warn　you　to
  shun　me。〃
  〃And　why　are　you；　then；　so　dangerous？〃
  〃On　this　earth；　men　are　often；　without　their　own　agency；　fated　to
  be　dangerous　to　others。　　If　I　were　to　predict　your　fortune　by　the
  vain　calculations　of　the　astrologer；　I　should　tell　you；　in　their
  despicable　jargon；　that　my　planet　sat　darkly　in　your　house　of
  life。　　Cross　me　not；　if　you　can　avoid　it。　　I　warn　you　now　for　the
  first　time　and　last。〃
  〃You　despise　the　astrologers；　yet　you　utter　a　jargon　as
  mysterious　as　theirs。　　I　neither　gamble　nor　quarrel；　why；　then；
  should　I　fear　you？〃
  〃As　you　will；　I　have　done。〃
  〃Let　me　speak　frankly；your　conversation　last　night　interested
  and　perplexed　me。〃
  〃I　know　it：　　minds　like　yours　are　attracted　by　mystery。〃
  Glyndon　was　piqued　at　these　words；　though　in　the　tone　in　which
  they　were　spoken　there　was　no　contempt。
  〃I　see　you　do　not　consider　me　worthy　of　your　friendship。　　Be　it
  so。　　Good…day！〃
  Zanoni　coldly　replied　to　the　salutation；　and　as　the　Englishman
  rode　on；　returned　to　his　botanical　employment。
  The　same　night；　Glyndon　went；　as　usual；　to　the　theatre。　　He　was
  standing　behind　the　scenes　watching　Viola；　who　was　on　the　stage
  in　one　of　her　most　brilliant　parts。　　The　house　resounded　with
  applause。　　Glyndon　was　transported　with　a　young　man's　passion　and
  a　young　man's　pride：　　〃This　glorious　creature；〃　thought　he；　〃may
  yet　be　mine。〃
  He　felt；　while　thus　wrapped　in　delicious　reverie；　a　slight　touch
  upon　his　shoulder；　he　turned；　and　beheld　Zanoni。　　〃You　are　in
  danger；〃　said　the　latter。　　〃Do　not　walk　home　to…ni