the waters of Death itself wash everlastingly, but cannot overflow.
Your grandsire resisted my fervent prayers, disobeyed my most absolute
commands, and in the sublime rashness of a soul that panted for the last
secrets, perished,--the victim of his own frenzy."

"He was poisoned, and Mejnour fled."

"Mejnour fled not," answered the stranger, quickly and proudly.

"Mejnour could not fly from danger, for to him danger is a thing long
left behind. It was the day before the duke took the fatal draught
which he believed was to confer on the mortal the immortal boon that,
finding my power over him was gone, I abandoned him to his doom.

"On the night on which your grandsire breathed his last, I was
standing alone at moonlight on the ruins of Persepolis,--for my
wanderings, space hath no obstacle. But a truce with this: I loved your
grandsire; I would save the last of his race. Oppose not thyself to
Zicci. Oppose not thyself to thine evil passions. Draw back from the
precipice while there is yet time. In thy front and in thine eyes I
detect some of that diviner glory which belonged to thy race. Thou hast
in thee some germs of their hereditary genius, but they are choked up by
worse than thy hereditary vices. Recollect, by genius thy house rose,--
by vice it ever failed to perpetuate its power. In the laws which
regulate the Universe it is decreed that nothing wicked can long endure.
Be wise, and let history warn thee. Thou standest on the verge of two
worlds,--the Past and the Future; and voices from either shriek omen in
thy ear. I have done. I bid thee farewell."

"Not so; thou shalt not quit these walls. I will make experiment of thy