"'If you are honest men, you have no need to be alarmed; but if you be scamps, spies, whom our people cannot understand, sent hither to rob us of our Podiebrad, you shall not leave us until he is far away, and safe from your attempts to find him.'
"We saw that during the night these honest people distrusted us, though they had been so kind and open-hearted at first that we could not but admire them. The master felt sadly distressed at the idea of losing the hierophant we had come so far to see. He ventured to write to Trismegistus, in the masonic character, and to tell him his name and position, in order if possible to relieve the people of their suspicions. A few moments after this letter had been taken to a neighboring hut, we saw a woman before whom the peasants opened their rudely ordered phalanx. We heard them murmur, 'La Zingara! La Zingara Consolacione!' She soon entered the hut, and, closing the doors, began in the signs and formulas of freemasonry to question us strictly. We were surprised to find a woman initiated in the mystic signs; but her imposing air and scrutinising look inspired us with respect, notwithstanding her gipsy garb, which she wore with an ease evidently acquired by habit.
"As she was very clean, and her manners calm and dignified, we fancied her queen of the camp; but when she told us that she was the wife of Trismegistus, we looked at her with ease and respect. She is no longer young, being apparently about forty, but broken down by fatigue. She is yet beautiful, however; and her tall and elegant figure has still that noble air and chaste dignity which command admiration. We were deeply impressed by her angelic countenance, and her sweet musical voice moved our hearts as with heavenly melody. Whoever this woman may be, thought we, whether the wife of the philosopher or a generous adventurer attached to him from an ardent passion, it is impossible to say; but we could not imagine that any other than a pure unsullied prompting could influence such a being. We were astonished to find our sage entramelled with the chains of common men; but we soon discovered that in the ranks of the truly noble—the intelligent, the wise, and the good—he had found a companion after his own heart—one also that could brave with him the storms of life.
"'Excuse my fears and doubts,' said she, after many questions. 'We have been persecuted and have suffered much; but, thank God, my husband has forgotten his misfortunes. He is now safe, and nothing can annoy or afflict him. Heaven, however, has made me a sentinel to protect him from the approach of his persecutors. Hence my distrust and anxiety. Your manners and language satisfy me more than do the signs which we have exchanged, for our mystery has been abused by false preachers and designing brethren. Prudence forbids us to trust any one; but heaven protests against impiety or lack of charity. The family of the faithful is depressed, and we have no longer a temple in which we can hold communion. Our adepts have lost the true significance of the mysteries. The letter of our law has killed its spirit; and the divine art has been mistaken and defiled by man. What matters it?—are there not yet some faithful? In a few sanctuaries the word of life may yet be safe. Yes, it will yet find an utterance, and be diffused through the world; the temple will yet be reconstructed by the pure light of faith, aided by the widow's mite.'
"'Precisely,' said the master. 'That is what we look for, and what is preached in our sanctuaries, but which few can understand. We have reflected upon it, and, after years of toil and meditation have fancied that we have discovered its true meaning. Therefore are we come to ask your husband's sanction of our faith, or a correction of our errors. Let us speak with him, that he may hear and understand us.'
"'That I cannot promise,' said the Zingara; 'nor can he. Trismegistus is not always inspired, though he now lives under the influence of poetic meditations. Music is its habitual manifestation. Metaphorical ideas rarely exalt him above mere sentiment. At present he can say nothing that would be satisfactory to you. I alone can at all times understand his language; but to those who do not know him, he is mysterious. I may tell you this—To men guided by icy reason, Trismegistus is a madman; and while the poetic peasant humbly offers the sublime gifts of hospitality to the wise one who has touched and delighted him, the coarser mind casts his boon of pity on the vagabond who displays his genius in the city. I have taught our children to accept those gifts only for the benefit of the aged and infirm beggar, who may not be gifted sufficiently to influence the hearts of the charitable. We have no need of alms: we do not beg, for in so doing we would degrade ourselves. We gain our living honestly, and by no other means shall our children live. Providence has enabled us to impart our enthusiasm and art to those capable of comprehending their beauties, and in exchange we receive the religious hospitality of the poor, and share his frugal meal. Thus do we earn our food and clothing. At the doors of our wealthier brethren, we only stop that they may hear our song; we seek no reward. Only those who have nothing to barter should be classed as paupers, and on them we bestow charity. These are our ideas of independence, which we realize by using the talents bestowed on us by heaven in such a way as gives honor to the donor and credit to ourselves. We have made friends everywhere among the lower classes of society, and these, our brothers and sisters, would not degrade themselves by seeking to deprive us of our probity and honor. Every day we make new disciples; and when no longer able to take care of our children, they will have an opportunity of repaying their obligations to us. Trismegistus now to you will seem crazed by his enthusiasm, as once he really was by sorrow. Watch him, however, and you will find your error; for it is the blindness of society and its many perverse social institutions that make its men of genius and invention often seem insane. Now come with us, and perhaps Trismegistus will be able to talk with you on other subjects besides that of music. You must not, however, request him; for he will do so voluntarily, if we find him at the proper time, and when old ideas are revived. We will go in an hour. Our presence here may bring new dangers on his head; and in no other place need we so much fear recognition, after so many years of exile. We will go to Vienna by way of the Boehmer-wald and the Danube. I have travelled in that direction before now, and I will gladly do so again. We will visit our two children, whom friends in comfortable circumstances insisted on taking care of and instructing. All, you are aware, are not artists—we must individually walk in the way pointed out by our Creator.'
"Such were the explanations of this strange woman, who, though often pressed by our questions and interrupted by our objections, told us of the life she had adopted in pursuance of her husband's ideas and tastes. We gladly accepted her invitation to accompany her, and when we were ready the rural guard opened its ranks to let us pass.
"'My children,' said the Zingara, in her full and harmonious voice, 'your friend awaits you under the trees. It is the most pleasant hour of the day, and we will have matins and music. Have confidence in in these two friends,' said she, pointing to us in her majestic and naturally theatrical air. 'They are not spies, but well-wishers.'
"The peasants followed us singing. On the way the Zingara told us that her family purposed to leave the village that very day.
"'Do not tell him so,' she said, 'for it would cost him many tears. We are not safe here, however, as some old enemy might pass, and recognise Albert of Rudolstadt under the Bohemian dress.'