"Albert appeared to suffer deeply. Perspiration fell from his forehead, and he looked at Spartacus, now with terror, and then with enthusiasm; a fearful contest oppressed him. His wife in alarm clasped him in her arms, and silently reproached the master by her glances—instinct, however, with respect as well as fear. Never was I more impressed with Spartacus's capacity. He was overpowered with his fanaticism of virtue and truth, the tortures of the prophet striving with inspiration, the distress of Consuelo, the terror of the children, and upbraidings of his own heart. I too trembled, and thought him cruel. I feared that the poet's soul would be crushed by a last effort, and the tears in his wife's eyes fell deeply and hotly on my heart. All at once Trismegistus arose, and putting aside both Spartacus and Consuelo, made a gesture to his children to go. He seemed transformed. His eyes, from an invisible book, vast as the universe, and written in characters of light on the arch of heaven, seemed to read.
"He then said aloud—
"'Am I not human? Why should I not say what nature demands and therefore will have. I am a man, and therefore I have a right to express the will of the human family, and to declare their intention. One who witnesses the gathering of the clouds can predict the lightning and the storm. I know what is in my heart, and what it will bring forth. I am a man, and I live in an age when the voice of Europe murmurs trumpet-tongued. Friends, these are not dreams. I swear by the name of human nature they are dreams merely in relation to the present formation of our moral and social systems. Which of the two, spirit or matter, will take the lead? The gospel says, the spirit bloweth where it pleaseth. The spirit will do so, and will alter the face of the universe. It is said in Genesis—"When all was dark and chaotic, the Spirit blew on the waters." Now, creation is eternal. Let us create, or, in other words, obey the Spirit. I see darkness and chaos. Why should we remain in darkness? "Veni, Creator Spiritus."'
"He paused, and then began again.
"'Can Louis XV. contend with you, Spartacus? Frederick, the pupil of Voltaire, is less powerful than his master; and were I to compare Maria Theresa to my Consuelo, it would be almost blasphemous.'
"He again paused for a short time; and resumed—
"'Come, Zdenko, my child, descendant of the Podiebrad, bearing the name of my second self and dearest friend, prepare to aid us. You are a new man, and must choose for yourself. Which side will you take,—that of your parents, or in the ranks of the tyrants of the earth? The power of a new generation is in you. Which will you subscribe to, slavery or liberty? Son of Consuelo, child of the Zingara, godson of the Sclave, I trust your choice will be with the advocates of liberty, not in the ranks of the enslavers, else I will renounce you. Though I am a descendant of the proud ones who sit on thrones, I have long since despised the bauble, and you, my son, must follow in my footsteps.'
"He continued—
"'He who dares assert that the divine essence—beauty, goodness, and power—is not to be found on earth, is Satan.'
"Again he added—