“Thy toil hath been most difficult!” exclaimed Ibrahim, in his deep-toned voice—“the end draws nigh!”
“It was in that home of magnificent thoughts and mighty memories—the city of Jerusalem, that the Glorious Thought dawned upon my soul!—
“‘To live forever,’ I cried as I gazed upon the wide city, with its palaces and towers basking in the sunlight—‘to pass beyond the years of mortal men, to exist while whole nations sink down to the slumber of the grave, while kings succeed kings and millions of the mass of men glide away on their inevitable march to the grave! To live forever—to feel life throbbing in my veins, health flooding my very heart, and youth, eternal youth crowning my brow, when Old Earth shall have been stamped with the footsteps of ten thousand years—oh glorious boon, oh guerdon worthy an age of toil!’
“I sought the boon when first I trod the Syrian soil, but my search was wild and vague—yon massive volume was placed in my hands—”
“And then, the search became clear and distinct?”
“Yes—yes! Truth after truth dawned upon me, ingredient after ingredient was added to the contents of the alembic,[6] and mad man that I was——but stay a moment, Ibrahim. Gaze again upon the liquid of the alembic, and tell me what thou see’st?”
“The same clear and undimmed liquid, resting calm and motionless within the depths of the vessel.”
“Behold yon circular glass, resting beside the parchment scroll, on the corner of the altar. It will magnify an insect until it swells to the dimensions of the huge animal that haunts the forests of the far deserts of India—the elephant, methinks ’tis called. Apply the glass to thine eye, and gaze within the depths of the vessel.”
“A strange and magnificent spectacle! The clear liquid spreads out into a magnificent lake, calm, unshadowed and rippleless. Yet stay—’tis shadowed by a small island floating in the centre, an island composed of some unknown substance, black as jet, yet scarcely perceptible even through the wondrous medium of this glass!”
“When that speck of jet shall have vanished, then will the charm be perfect!—I have said that I was rash and indiscreet—let my story witness. I disregarded the words of the Book, I thought twenty-one years too long and weary a time for me to sit in solemn silence while I watched the progress of the Secret. A few words in the volume hinted darkly and vaguely at a consummation of the Thought, attainable by one bold grasp—that grasp I made—yes, yes, though my very soul was shaken to the centre, and my brain reeled in the effort—I—I—killed her!”