Nothing could be more dreary than the aspect
of the place. The richly-moulded ceiling was festooned with spiders'
webs, and in some places had fallen in heaps upon the floor; the glories
of the tapestry upon the walls were obliterated by damps; the squares of
black and white marble, with which the hall was paved, were loosened,
and quaked beneath the footsteps; the wide and empty fireplace yawned
like the mouth of a cavern; the bolts of the closed windows were rusted
in their sockets; and the heaps of dust before the outer door proved
that long years had elapsed since any one had passed through it. Taking a dark lantern from beneath his cloak, the individual in question
gazed for a moment around him, and then, with a sardonic smile playing
upon his features, directed his steps towards a room on the right, the
door of which stood open. This chamber, which was large and cased with oak, was wholly
unfurnished, like the hall, and in an equally dilapidated condition. The
only decoration remaining on its walls was the portrait of a venerable
personage in the cap and gown of Henry the Eighth's time, painted
against a panel--a circumstance which had probably saved it from
destruction--and beneath it, fixed in another panel, a plate of brass,
covered with mystical characters and symbols, and inscribed with the
name "Cyprianus de Rougemont, Fra. R.C." The same name likewise appeared
upon a label beneath the portrait, with the date 1550. Pausing before the portrait, the young man threw the light of the
lantern full upon it, and revealed features somewhat resembling his own
in form, but of a severe and philosophic cast. In the eyes alone could
be discerned the peculiar and terrible glimmer which distinguished his
own glances. After regarding the portrait for some time fixedly, he thus addressed
it:

"Dost hear me, old ancestor?" he cried. "I, thy descendant, Cyprian de
Rougemont, call upon thee to point out where thy gold is hidden? I know
that thou wert a brother of the Rosy Cross--one of the illuminati--and
didst penetrate the mysteries of nature, and enter the region of light. I know, also, that thou wert buried in this house with a vast treasure;
but though I have made diligent search for it, and others have searched
before me, thy grave has never yet been discovered! Listen to me! Methought Satan appeared to me in a dream last night, and bade me come
hither, and I should find what I sought. The conditions he proposed
were, that I should either give him my own soul, or win him that of
Auriol Darcy. I assented. I am here. Where is thy treasure?" After a pause, he struck the portrait with his clenched hand, exclaiming
in a loud voice:

"Dost hear me, I say, old ancestor? I call on thee to give me thy
treasure. Dost hear, I say?" And he repeated the blow with greater violence. Disturbed by the shock, the brass plate beneath the picture started from
its place, and fell to the ground. "What is this?" cried Rougemont, gazing into the aperture left by the
plate. "Ha!--my invocation has been heard!" And, snatching up the lantern, he discovered, at the bottom of a little
recess, about two feet deep, a stone, with an iron ring in the centre of
it. Uttering a joyful cry, he seized the ring, and drew the stone
forward without difficulty, disclosing an open space beyond it. "This, then, is the entrance to my ancestor's tomb," cried Rougemont;
"there can be no doubt of it. The old Rosicrucian has kept his secret
well; but the devil has helped me to wrest it from him. And now to
procure the necessary implements, in case, as is not unlikely, I should
experience further difficulty." With this he hastily quitted the room, but returned almost immediately
with a mallet, a lever, and a pitchfork; armed with which and the
lantern, he crept through the aperture. This done, he found himself at
the head of a stone staircase, which he descended, and came to the
arched entrance of a vault. The door, which was of stout oak, was
locked, but holding up the light towards it, he read the following
inscription:

    "POST C.C.L. ANNOS PATEBO, 1550." "In two hundred and fifty years I shall open!" cried Rougemont, "and the
date 1550--why, the exact time is arrived. Old Cyprian must have
foreseen what would happen, and evidently intended to make me his heir. There was no occasion for the devil's interference. And see, the key is
in the lock. So!" And he turned it, and pushing against the door with
some force, the rusty hinges gave way, and it fell inwards. [Illustration: The Tomb of the Rosicrucian.] From the aperture left by the fallen door, a soft and silvery light
streamed forth, and, stepping forward, Rougemont found himself in a
spacious vault, from the ceiling of which hung a large globe of crystal,
containing in its heart a little flame, which diffused a radiance,
gentle as that of the moon, around. This, then, was the ever-burning
lamp of the Rosicrucians, and Rougemont gazed at it with astonishment. Two hundred and fifty years had elapsed since that wondrous flame had
been lighted, and yet it burnt on brightly as ever. Hooped round the
globe was a serpent with its tail in its mouth--an emblem of
eternity--wrought in purest gold; while above it were a pair of silver
wings, in allusion to the soul. Massive chains of the more costly metal,
fashioned like twisted snakes, served as suspenders to the lamp. But Rougemont's astonishment at this marvel quickly gave way to other
feelings, and he gazed around the vault with greedy eyes. It was a septilateral chamber, about eight feet high, built of stone,
and supported by beautifully groined arches. The surface of the masonry
was as smooth and fresh as if the chisel had only just left it. In six of the corners were placed large chests, ornamented with ironwork
of the most exquisite workmanship, and these Rougemont's imagination
pictured as filled with inexhaustible treasure; while in the seventh
corner, near the door, was a beautiful little piece of monumental
sculpture in white marble, representing two kneeling and hooded figures,
holding a veil between them, which partly concealed the entrance to a
small recess. On one of the chests opposite the monument just described
stood a strangely-formed bottle and a cup of antique workmanship, both
encrusted with gems. The walls were covered with circles, squares, and diagrams, and in some
places were ornamented with grotesque carvings. In the centre of the
vault was a round altar, of black marble, covered with a plate of gold,
on which Rougemont read the following inscription:

    "Hoc universi compendium unius mihi sepulcrum feci." "Here, then, old Cyprian lies," he cried. And, prompted by some irresistible impulse, he seized the altar by the
upper rim, and overthrew it. The heavy mass of marble fell with a
thundering crash, breaking asunder the flag beneath it. It might be the
reverberation of the vaulted roof, but a deep groan seemed to reproach
the young man for his sacrilege.