《Rosa Alchemica》第2章

ey　broke　the　dream　of　my　inner　life。　feeling　a　little　curious；　i　resolved　to　go　to　the　door　myself；　and；　taking　one　of　the　silver　candlesticks　from　the　mantlepiece；　began　to　descend　the　stairs。　the　servants　appeared　to　be　out；　for　though　the　sound　poured　through　every　corner　and　crevice　of　the　house　there　was　no　stir　in　the　lower　rooms。　i　remembered　that　because　my　needs　were　so　few；　my　part　in　life　so　little；　they　had　begun　to　e　and　go　as　they　would；　often　leaving　me　alone　for　hours。　the　emptiness　and　silence　of　a　world　from　which　i　had　driven　everything　but　dreams　suddenly　overwhelmed　me；　and　i　shuddered　as　i　drew　the　bolt。　i　found　before　me　michael　robartes；　whom　i　had　not　seen　for　years；　and　whose　wild　red　hair；　fierce　eyes；　sensitive；　tremulous　lips　and　rough　clothes；　made　him　look　now；　just　as　they　used　to　do　fifteen　years　before；　something　between　a　debauchee；　a　saint；　and　a　peasant。　he　had　recently　e　to　ireland；　he　said；　and　wished　to　see　me　on　a　matter　of　importance：　indeed；　the　only　matter　of　importance　for　him　and　for　me。　his　voice　brought　up　before　me　our　student　years　in　paris；　and　remembering　the　magnetic　power　ne　had　once　possessed　over　me；　a　little　fear　mingled　with　much　annoyance　at　this　irrelevant　intrusion；　as　i　led　the　way　up　the　wide　staircase；　where　swift　had　passed　joking　and　railing；　and　curran　telling　stories　and　quoting　greek；　in　simpler　days；　before　mens　minds；　subtilized　and　plicated　by　the　romantic　movement　in　art　and　literature；　began　to　tremble　on　the　verge　of　some　unimagined　revelation。
i　felt　that　my　hand　shook；　and　saw　that　the　light　of　the　candle　wavered　and　quivered　more　than　it　need　have　upon　the　maenads　on　the　old　french　panels；　making　them　look　like　the　first　beings　slowly　shaping　in　the　formless　and　void　darkness。　when　the　door　had　closed；　and　the　peacock　curtain；　glimmering　like　many？
coloured　flame；　fell　between　us　and　the　world；　i　felt；　in　a　way　i　could　not　understand；　that　some　singular　and　unexpected　thing　was　about　to　happen。　i　went　over　to　the　mantlepiece；　and　finding　that　a　little　chainless　bronze　censer；　set；　upon　the　outside；　with　pieces　of　painted　china　by　orazio　fontana；　which　i　had　filled　with　antique　amulets；　had　fallen　upon　its　side　and　poured　out　its　contents；　i　began　to　gather　the　amulets　into　the　bowl；　partly　to　collect　my　thoughts　and　partly　with　that　habitual　reverence　which　seemed　to　me　the　due　of　things　so　long　connected　with　secret　hopes　and　fears。　i　see；　said　michael　robartes；　that　you　are　still　fond　of incense；　and　i　can　show　you　an　incense　more　precious　than　any　you　have　ever　seen；　and　as　he　spoke　he　took　the　censer　out　of　my　hand　and　put　the　amulets　in　a　little　heap　between　the　athanor　and　the　alembic。　i　sat　down；　and　he　sat　down　at　the　side　of　the　fire；　and　sat　there　for　awhile　looking　into　the　fire；　and　holding　the　censer　in　his　hand。　i　have　e　to　ask　you　something；　he　said；　and　the　incense　will　fill　the　room；　and　our　thoughts；　with　its　sweet　odour　while　we　are　talking。　i　got　it　from　an　old　man　in　syria；　who　said　it　was　made　from　flowers；　of　one　kind　with　the　flowers　that　laid　their　heavy　purple　petals　upon　the　hands　and　upon　the　hair　and　upon　the　feet　of　christ　in　the　garden　of　gethsemane；　and　folded　him　in　their　heavy　breath；　until　he　cried　against　the　cross　and　his　destiny。　he　shook　some　dust　into　the　censer　out　of　a　small　silk　bag；　and　set　the　censer　upon　the　floor　and　lit　the　dust　which　sent　up　a　blue　stream　of　smoke；　that　spread　out　over　the　ceiling；　and　flowed　downwards　again　until　it　was　like　miltons　banyan　tree。　it　filled　me；　as　incense　often　does；　with　a　faint　sleepiness；　so　that　i　started　when　he　said；　i　have　e　to　ask　you　that　question　which　i　asked　you　in　paris；　and　which　you　left　paris　rather　than　answer。
he　had　turned　his　eyes　towards　me；　and　i　saw　them　glitter　in　the　firelight；　and　through　the　incense；　as　i　replied：　you　mean；　will　i　bee　an　initiate　of　your　order　of　the　alchemical　rose？　i　would　not　consent　in　paris；　when　i　was　full　of　unsatisfied　desire；　and　now　that　i　have　at　last　fashioned　my　life　according　to　my　desire；　am　i　likely　to　consent？
you　have　changed　greatly　since　then；　he　answered。　i　have　read　your　books；　and　now　i　see　you　among　all　these　images；　and　i　understand　you　better　than　you　do　yourself；　for　i　have　been　with　many　and　many　dreamers　at　the　same　cross？ways。　you　have　shut　away　the　world　and　gathered　the　gods　about　you；　and　if　you　do　not　throw　yourself　at　their　feet；　you　will　be　always　full　of　lassitude；　and　of　wavering　purpose；　for　a　man　must　forget　he　is　miserable　in　the　bustle　and　noise　of　the　multitude　in　this　world　and　in　time；　or　seek　a　mystical　union　with　the　multitude　who　govern　this　world　and　time。　and　then　he　murmured　something　i　could　not　hear；　and　as　though　to　someone　i　could　not　see。
for　a　moment　the　room　appeared　to　darken；　as　it　used　to　do　when　he　was　about　to　perform　some　singular　experiment；　and　in　the　darkness　the　peacocks　upon　the　doors　seemed　to　glow　with　a　more　intense　colour。　i　cast　off　the　illusion；　which　was；　i　believe；　merely　caused　by　memory；　and　by　the　twilight　of　incense；　for　i　would　not　acknowledge　that　he　could　overe　my　now　mature　intellect；　and　i　said：　even　if　i　grant　that　i　need　a　spiritual　belief　and　some　form　of　worship；　why　should　i　go　to　eleusis　and　not　to　calvary？　he　leaned　forward　and　began　speaking　with　a　slightly　rhythmical　intonation；　and　as　he　spoke　i　had　to　struggle　again　with　the　shadow；　as　of　some　older　night　than　the　night　of　the　sun；　which　began　to　dim　the　light　of　the　candles　and　to　blot　out　the　little　gleams　upon　the　corner　of　picture？　frames　and　on　the　bronze　divinities；　and　to　turn　the　blue　of　the　incense　to　a　heavy　purple；　while　it　left　the　peacocks　to　glimmer　and　glow　as　though　each　separate　colour　were　a　living　spirit。　i　had　fallen　into　a　profound　dream？like　reverie　in　which　i　heard　him　speaking　as　at　a　distance。　and　yet　there　is　no　one　who　munes　with　only　one　god；　he　was　saying；　and　the　more　a　man　lives　in　imagination　and　in　a　refined　understanding；　the　more　gods　does　he　meet　with　and　talk　with；　and　the　more　does　he　e　under　the　power　of　roland；　who　sounded　in　the　valley　of　roncesvalles　the　last　trumpet　of　the　bodys　will　and　pleasure；　and　of　hamlet；　who　saw　the