And she said to me, not
      many days afterward, tranquilly dying, that, because of what I
      had done for the comfort of her spirit she would watch over me in
      that spirit when departed, and, if so it were permitted her
      return to me visibly in the watches of the night; but, if this
      thing were, indeed, beyond the power of the souls in Paradise,
      that she would, at least, give me frequent indications of her
      presence, sighing upon me in the evening winds, or filling the
      air which I breathed with perfume from the censers of the angels. And, with these words upon her lips, she yielded up her innocent
      life, putting an end to the first epoch of my own. Thus far I have faithfully said. But as I pass the barrier in
      Time’s path, formed by the death of my beloved, and proceed with
      the second era of my existence, I feel that a shadow gathers over
      my brain, and I mistrust the perfect sanity of the record. But
      let me on.—Years dragged themselves along heavily, and still I
      dwelled within the Valley of the Many-Colored Grass; but a second
      change had come upon all things. The star-shaped flowers shrank
      into the stems of the trees, and appeared no more. The tints of
      the green carpet faded; and, one by one, the ruby-red asphodels
      withered away; and there sprang up, in place of them, ten by ten,
      dark, eye-like violets, that writhed uneasily and were ever
      encumbered with dew. And Life departed from our paths; for the
      tall flamingo flaunted no longer his scarlet plumage before us,
      but flew sadly from the vale into the hills, with all the gay
      glowing birds that had arrived in his company. And the golden and
      silver fish swam down through the gorge at the lower end of our
      domain and bedecked the sweet river never again. And the lulling
      melody that had been softer than the wind-harp of Æolus, and more
      divine than all save the voice of Eleonora, it died little by
      little away, in murmurs growing lower and lower, until the stream
      returned, at length, utterly, into the solemnity of its original
      silence. And then, lastly, the voluminous cloud uprose, and,
      abandoning the tops of the mountains to the dimness of old, fell
      back into the regions of Hesper, and took away all its manifold
      golden and gorgeous glories from the Valley of the Many-Colored
      Grass. Yet the promises of Eleonora were not forgotten; for I heard the
      sounds of the swinging of the censers of the angels; and streams
      of a holy perfume floated ever and ever about the valley; and at
      lone hours, when my heart beat heavily, the winds that bathed my
      brow came unto me laden with soft sighs; and indistinct murmurs
      filled often the night air, and once—oh, but once only! I was
      awakened from a slumber, like the slumber of death, by the
      pressing of spiritual lips upon my own. But the void within my heart refused, even thus, to be filled. I
      longed for the love which had before filled it to overflowing. At
      length the valley pained me through its memories of Eleonora, and
      I left it for ever for the vanities and the turbulent triumphs of
      the world. I found myself within a strange city, where all things might have
      served to blot from recollection the sweet dreams I had dreamed
      so long in the Valley of the Many-Colored Grass. The pomps and
      pageantries of a stately court, and the mad clangor of arms, and
      the radiant loveliness of women, bewildered and intoxicated my
      brain. But as yet my soul had proved true to its vows, and the
      indications of the presence of Eleonora were still given me in
      the silent hours of the night. Suddenly these manifestations they
      ceased, and the world grew dark before mine eyes, and I stood
      aghast at the burning thoughts which possessed, at the terrible
      temptations which beset me; for there came from some far, far
      distant and unknown land, into the gay court of the king I
      served, a maiden to whose beauty my whole recreant heart yielded
      at once—at whose footstool I bowed down without a struggle, in
      the most ardent, in the most abject worship of love. What,
      indeed, was my passion for the young girl of the valley in
      comparison with the fervor, and the delirium, and the
      spirit-lifting ecstasy of adoration with which I poured out my
      whole soul in tears at the feet of the ethereal Ermengarde?—Oh,
      bright was the seraph Ermengarde! and in that knowledge I had
      room for none other. Oh, divine was the angel Ermengarde! and as
      I looked down into the depths of her memorial eyes, I thought
      only of them—and of her. I wedded—nor dreaded the curse I had invoked; and its bitterness
      was not visited upon me. And once—but once again in the silence
      of the night; there came through my lattice the soft sighs which
      had forsaken me; and they modelled themselves into familiar and
      sweet voice, saying:

      “Sleep in peace! for the Spirit of Love reigneth and ruleth, and,
      in taking to thy passionate heart her who is Ermengarde, thou art
      absolved, for reasons which shall be made known to thee in
      Heaven, of thy vows unto Eleonora.”




NOTES TO THE SECOND VOLUME


Notes — Scheherazade

      (*1) The coralites. (*2) “One of the most remarkable natural curiosities in Texas is
      a petrified forest, near the head of Pasigno river. It consists
      of several hundred trees, in an erect position, all turned to
      stone. Some trees, now growing, are partly petrified. This is a
      startling fact for natural philosophers, and must cause them to
      modify the existing theory of petrification.—_Kennedy_. This account, at first discredited, has since been corroborated
      by the discovery of a completely petrified forest, near the head
      waters of the Cheyenne, or Chienne river, which has its source in
      the Black Hills of the rocky chain. There is scarcely, perhaps, a spectacle on the surface of the
      globe more remarkable, either in a geological or picturesque
      point of view than that presented by the petrified forest, near
      Cairo. The traveller, having passed the tombs of the caliphs,
      just beyond the gates of the city, proceeds to the southward,
      nearly at right angles to the road across the desert to Suez, and
      after having travelled some ten miles up a low barren valley,
      covered with sand, gravel, and sea shells, fresh as if the tide
      had retired but yesterday, crosses a low range of sandhills,
      which has for some distance run parallel to his path. The scene
      now presented to him is beyond conception singular and desolate.