CHAPTER. II.


The attendants which Mejnour had engaged for his strange abode were such
as might suit a philosopher of few wants. An old Armenian, whom Glyndon
recognized as in the mystic's service at Naples; a tall, hard-featured
woman from the village, recommended by Maestro Paulo; and two long-
haired, smooth-spoken, but fierce-visaged youths, from the same place,
and honored by the same sponsorship,--constituted the establishment.
The rooms used by the sage were commodious and weather-proof, with some
remains of ancient splendor in the faded arras that clothed the walls
and the huge tables of costly marble and elaborate carving. Glyndon's
sleeping apartment communicated with a kind of belvidere or terrace
that commanded prospects of unrivalled beauty and extent, and was
separated, on the other side, by a long gallery and a flight of ten
or a dozen stairs, from the private chambers of the mystic. There was
about the whole place a sombre, and yet not displeasing, depth of repose.
It suited well with the studies to which it was now to be appropriated.

For several days Mejnour refused to confer with Glyndon on the subjects
nearest to his heart.

"All without," said he, "is prepared, but not all within. Your own soul
must grow accustomed to the spot, and filled with the surrounding
Nature; for Nature is the source of all inspiration."

With these words, which savored a little of jargon, Mejnour turned to
lighter topics. He made the Englishman accompany him in long rambles