“I bid thee consider well: on the one hand, Viola, a tranquil home, a happy and serene life; on the other hand, all is darkness,—darkness, that even these eyes cannot penetrate.”
“But thou hast told me, that if I wed Viola, I must be contented with the common existence,—if I refuse, it is to aspire to thy knowledge and thy power.”
“Vain man, knowledge and power are not happiness.”
“But they are better than happiness. Say!—if I marry Viola, wilt thou be my master,—my guide? Say this, and I am resolved.
“It were impossible.”
“Then I renounce her? I renounce love. I renounce happiness. Welcome solitude,—welcome despair; if they are the entrances to thy dark and sublime secret.”
“I will not take thy answer now. Before the last hour of night thou shalt give it in one word,—ay or no! Farewell till then.”
Zanoni waved his hand, and, descending rapidly, was seen no more.
Glyndon rejoined his impatient and wondering friend; but Mervale, gazing on his face, saw that a great change had passed there. The flexile and dubious expression of youth was forever gone. The features were locked, rigid, and stern; and so faded was the natural bloom, that an hour seemed to have done the work of years.