Its　form　was　veiled　as　the　face；　but　the　outline　was　that　of　a
  female；　yet　it　moved　not　as　move　even　the　ghosts　that　simulate
  the　living。　　It　seemed　rather　to　crawl　as　some　vast　misshapen
  reptile；　and　pausing；　at　length　it　cowered　beside　the　table　which
  held　the　mystic　volume；　and　again　fixed　its　eyes　through　the
  filmy　veil　on　the　rash　invoker。　All　fancies；　the　most　grotesque；
  of　monk　or　painter　in　the　early　North；　would　have　failed　to　give
  to　the　visage　of　imp　or　fiend　that　aspect　of　deadly　malignity
  which　spoke　to　the　shuddering　nature　in　those　eyes　alone。　　All
  else　so　dark；shrouded；　veiled　and　larva…like。　　But　that　burning
  glare　so　intense；　so　livid；　yet　so　living；　had　in　it　something
  that　was　almost　HUMAN　in　its　passion　of　hate　and　mockery；
  something　that　served　to　show　that　the　shadowy　Horror　was　not　all
  a　spirit；　but　partook　of　matter　enough；　at　least；　to　make　it　more
  deadly　and　fearful　an　enemy　to　material　forms。　　As；　clinging　with
  the　grasp　of　agony　to　the　wall；his　hair　erect；　his　eyeballs
  starting；　he　still　gazed　back　upon　that　appalling　gaze；the
  Image　spoke　to　him：　　his　soul　rather　than　his　ear　comprehended
  the　words　it　said。
  〃Thou　hast　entered　the　immeasurable　region。　　I　am　the　Dweller　of
  the　Threshold。　　What　wouldst　thou　with　me？　　Silent？　　Dost　thou
  fear　me？　　Am　I　not　thy　beloved？　　Is　it　not　for　me　that　thou　hast
  rendered　up　the　delights　of　thy　race？　　Wouldst　thou　be　wise？
  Mine　is　the　wisdom　of　the　countless　ages。　　Kiss　me；　my　mortal
  lover。〃　　And　the　Horror　crawled　near　and　nearer　to　him；　it　crept
  to　his　side；　its　breath　breathed　upon　his　cheek！　　With　a　sharp
  cry　he　fell　to　the　earth　insensible；　and　knew　no　more　till；　far
  in　the　noon　of　the　next　day；　he　opened　his　eyes　and　found　himself
  in　his　bed；the　glorious　sun　streaming　through　his　lattice；　and
  the　bandit　Paolo　by　his　side；　engaged　in　polishing　his　carbine；
  and　whistling　a　Calabrian　love…air。
  CHAPTER　4。VIII。
  Thus　man　pursues　his　weary　calling；
  And　wrings　the　hard　life　from　the　sky；
  While　happiness　unseen　is　falling
  Down　from　God's　bosom　silently。
  Schiller。
  In　one　of　those　islands　whose　history　the　imperishable　literature
  and　renown　of　Athens　yet　invest　with　melancholy　interest；　and　on
  which　Nature；　in　whom　〃there　is　nothing　melancholy；〃　still
  bestows　a　glory　of　scenery　and　climate　equally　radiant　for　the
  freeman　or　the　slave；the　Ionian；　the　Venetian；　the　Gaul；　the
  Turk；　or　the　restless　Briton；Zanoni　had　fixed　his　bridal　home。
  There　the　air　carries　with　it　the　perfumes　of　the　plains　for
  miles　along　the　blue；　translucent　deep。　　（See　Dr。　Holland's
  〃Travels　to　the　Ionian　Isles；〃　etc。；　page　18。）　　Seen　from　one　of
  its　green　sloping　heights；　the　island　he　had　selected　seemed　one
  delicious　garden。　　The　towers　and　turrets　of　its　capital　gleaming
  amidst　groves　of　oranges　and　lemons；　vineyards　and　olive…woods
  filling　up　the　valleys；　and　clambering　along　the　hill…sides；　and
  villa；　farm；　and　cottage　covered　with　luxuriant　trellises　of
  dark…green　leaves　and　purple　fruit。　　For　there　the　prodigal
  beauty　yet　seems　half　to　justify　those　graceful　superstitions　of
  a　creed　that；　too　enamoured　of　earth；　rather　brought　the　deities
  to　man；　than　raised　the　man　to　their　less　alluring　and　less
  voluptuous　Olympus。
  And　still　to　the　fishermen；　weaving　yet　their　antique　dances　on
  the　sand；　to　the　maiden；　adorning　yet；　with　many　a　silver　fibula；
  her　glossy　tresses　under　the　tree　that　overshadows　her　tranquil
  cot；the　same　Great　Mother　that　watched　over　the　wise　of　Samos；
  the　democracy　of　Corcyra；　the　graceful　and　deep…taught　loveliness
  of　Miletus；　smiles　as　graciously　as　of　yore。　　For　the　North；
  philosophy　and　freedom　are　essentials　to　human　happiness；　in　the
  lands　which　Aphrodite　rose　from　the　waves　to　govern；　as　the
  Seasons；　hand　in　hand；　stood　to　welcome　her　on　the　shores；　Nature
  is　all　sufficient。　　（Homeric　Hymn。）
  The　isle　which　Zanoni　had　selected　was　one　of　the　loveliest　in
  that　divine　sea。　　His　abode；　at　some　distance　from　the　city；　but
  near　one　of　the　creeks　on　the　shore；　belonged　to　a　Venetian；　and；
  though　small；　had　more　of　elegance　than　the　natives　ordinarily
  cared　for。　　On　the　seas；　and　in　sight；　rode　his　vessel。　　His
  Indians；　as　before；　ministered　in　mute　gravity　to　the　service　of
  the　household。　　No　spot　could　be　more　beautiful；no　solitude
  less　invaded。　　To　the　mysterious　knowledge　of　Zanoni；　to　the
  harmless　ignorance　of　Viola；　the　babbling　and　garish　world　of
  civilised　man　was　alike　unheeded。　　The　loving　sky　and　the　lovely
  earth　are　companions　enough　to　Wisdom　and　to　Ignorance　while　they
  love。
  Although；　as　I　have　before　said；　there　was　nothing　in　the　visible
  occupations　of　Zanoni　that　betrayed　a　cultivator　of　the　occult
  sciences；　his　habits　were　those　of　a　man　who　remembers　or
  reflects。　　He　loved　to　roam　alone；　chiefly　at　dawn；　or　at　night；
  when　the　moon　was　clear　（especially　in　each　month；　at　its　rise
  and　full）；　miles　and　miles　away　over　the　rich　inlands　of　the
  island；　and　to　cull　herbs　and　flowers；　which　he　hoarded　with
  jealous　care。　　Sometimes；　at　the　dead　of　night；　Viola　would　wake
  by　an　instinct　that　told　her　he　was　not　by　her　side；　and；
  stretching　out　her　arms；　find　that　the　instinct　had　not　deceived
  her。　　But　she　early　saw　that　he　was　reserved　on　his　peculiar
  habits；　and　if　at　times　a　chill；　a　foreboding；　a　suspicious　awe
  crept　over　her；　she　forebore　to　question　him。
  But　his　rambles　were　not　always　unaccompanied；he　took　pleasure
  in　excursions　less　solitary。　　Often；　when　the　sea　lay　before　them
  like　a　lake；　the　barren　dreariness　of　the　opposite　coast　of
  Cephallenia　contrasting　the　smiling　shores　on　which　they　dwelt；
  Viola　and　himself　would　pass　days　in　cruising　slowly　around　the
  coast；　or　　in　visits　to　the　neighbouring　isles。　　Every　spot　of
  the　Greek　soil；　〃that　fair　Fable…Land；〃　seemed　to　him　familiar；
  and　as　he　conversed　of　the　past　and　its　exquisite　traditions；　he
  taught　Viola　to　love　the　race　from　which　have　descended　the
  poetry　and　the　wisdom　of　the　world。　　There　was　much　in　Zanoni；　as
  she　knew　him　better；　that　deepened　the　fascination　in　which　Viola
  was　from　the　first　enthralled。　　His　love　for　herself　was　so
  tender；　so　vigilant；　and　had　that　best　and　most　enduring
  attribute；　that　it　seemed　rather　grateful　for　the　happiness　in
  its　own　cares　than　vain　of　the　happiness　it　created。　　His
  habitual　mood　with　all　who　approached　him　was　calm　and　gentle；
  almost　to　apathy。　　An　angry　word　never　passed　his　lips；an　angry
  gleam　never　shot　from　his　eyes。　　Once　they　had　been　exposed　to
  the　danger　not　uncommon　in　those　then　half…savage　lands。　　Some
  pirates　who　infested　the　neighbouring　coasts　had　heard　of　the
  arrival　of　the　strangers；　and　the　seamen　Zanoni　employed　had
  gossiped　of　their　master's　wealth。　　One　night；　after　Viola　had
  retired　to　rest；　she　was　awakened　by　a　slight　noise　below。
  Zanoni　was　not　by　her　side；　she　listened　in　some　alarm。　　Was　that
  a　groan　that　came　upon　her　ear？　　She　started　up；　she　went　to　the
  door；　all　was　still。　　A　footstep　now　slowly　approached；　and
  Zanoni　entered　calm　as　usual；　and　seemed　unconscious　of　her
  fears。
  The　next　morning　three　men　were　found　dead　at　the　threshold　of
  the　principal　entrance；　the　door　of　which　had　been　forced。　　They
  were　recognised　in　the　neighbourhood　as　the　most　sanguinary　and
  terrible　marauders　of　the　coasts；men　stained　with　a　thousand
  murders；　and　who　had　never　hitherto　failed　in　any　attempt　to
  which　the　lust　of　rapine　had　impelled　them。　　The　footsteps　of
  many　others　were　tracked　to　the　seashore。　　It　seemed　that　their
  accomplices　must　have　fled　on　the　death　of　their　leaders。　　But
  when　the　Venetian　Proveditore；　or　authority；　of　the　island；　came
  to　examine　into　the　matter；　the　most　unaccountable　mystery　was
  the　manner　in　which　these　ruffians　had　met　their　fate。　　Zanoni
  had　not　stirred　from　the　apartment　in　which　he　ordinarily　pursued
  his　chemical　studies。　　None　of　the　servants　had　even　been
  disturbed　from　their　slumbers。　　No　marks　of　human　violence　were
  on　the　bodies　of　the　dead。　　They　died；　and　made　no　sign。　　From
  that　moment　Zanoni's　housenay；　the　whole　vicinitywas　sacred。
  The　neighbouring　villages；　rejoiced　to　be　delivered　from　a
  scourge；　regarded　the　stranger　as　one　whom　the　Pagiana　（or
  Virgin）　held　under　her　especial　protection。
  In　truth；　the　lively　Greeks　around；　facile　to　all　external
  impressions；　and　struck　with　the　singular　and　majestic　beauty　of
  the　man　who　knew　their　language　as　a　native；　whose　voice　often
  cheered　them　in　their　humble　sorrows；　and　whose　hand　was　never
  closed　to　their　wants；　long　after　he　had　left　their　shore
  preserved　his　memory　by　grateful　traditions；　and　still　point　to
  the　lofty　platanus　beneath　which　they　had　often　seen　him　seated；
  alone　and　thoughtful；　in　the　heats　of　noon。　　But　Zanoni　had
  haunts　less　open　to　the　gaze　than　the　shade　of　the　platanus。　　In
  that　isle　there　are　the　bituminous　springs　which　Herodotus　has
  commemorated。　　Of