then, Adela—­then, it cowered by my side in the light of noon, or sat by my bed,—­a Darkness visible through the Dark.  If, in the galleries of Divine Art, the dreams of my youth woke the early emulation,—­if I turned to the thoughts of sages; if the example of the great, if the converse of the wise, aroused the silenced intellect, the demon was with me as by a spell.  At last, one evening, at Genoa, to which city I had travelled in pursuit of the mystic, suddenly, and when least expected, he appeared before me.  It was the time of the Carnival.  It was in one of those half-frantic scenes of noise and revel, call it not gayety, which establish a heathen saturnalia in the midst of a Christian festival.  Wearied with the dance, I had entered a room in which several revellers were seated, drinking, singing, shouting; and in their fantastic dresses and hideous masks, their orgy seemed scarcely human.  I placed myself amongst them, and in that fearful excitement of the spirits which the happy never know, I was soon the most riotous of all.  The conversation fell on the Revolution of France, which had always possessed for me an absorbing fascination.  The masks spoke of the millennium it was to bring on earth, not as philosophers rejoicing in the advent of light, but as ruffians exulting in the annihilation of law.  I know not why it was, but their licentious language infected myself; and, always desirous to be foremost in every circle, I soon exceeded even these rioters in declamations on the nature of the liberty which was about to embrace all the families of the globe,—­a liberty that should pervade not only public legislation, but domestic life; an emancipation from every fetter that men had forged for themselves.  In the midst of this tirade one of the masks whispered me,—­

“‘Take care.  One listens to you who seems to be a spy!’

“My eyes followed those of the mask, and I observed a man who took no part in the conversation, but whose gaze was bent upon me.  He was disguised like the rest, yet I found by a general whisper that none had observed him enter.  His silence, his attention, had alarmed the fears of the other revellers,—­they only excited me the more.  Rapt in my subject, I pursued it, insensible to the signs of those about me; and, addressing myself only to the silent mask who sat alone, apart from the group, I did not even observe that, one by one, the revellers slunk off, and that I and the silent listener were left alone, until, pausing from my heated and impetuous declamations, I said,—­

“’And you, signor,—­what is your view of this mighty era?  Opinion without persecution; brotherhood without jealousy; love without bondage—­’

“‘And life without God,’ added the mask as I hesitated for new images.

“The sound of that well-known voice changed the current of my thought.  I sprang forward, and cried,—­

“‘Imposter or Fiend, we meet at last!’

“The figure rose as I advanced, and, unmasking, showed the features of Mejnour.  His fixed eye, his majestic aspect, awed and repelled me.  I stood rooted to the ground.