The succession of
images was too rapid. All individuality was gone. He felt as though not
one idea was left out of the busy crowd on which to rest his own
identity. He seemed a mere passive existence, unable either to execute
the functions of thought or volition.
"Go, for a brief space. Thou mayest return at sunset. Yet"--the seer
fixed a penetrating glance on the youth as he retired--"go not nigh the
merchant's dwelling, unless thou wouldest mar thy fortune.
To-night--remember!"
In the dim solitude of his chamber Rodolf sought in vain to allay the
feverish excitement he had endured. He seemed left to the sport and
caprice of a power he could not control. The coursers of the imagination
grew wilder with restraint: he recklessly flung the reins upon their
neck; but this did not tire their impetuosity. His brain glowed like a
furnace; he seemed hastening fast on to the verge of either folly or
madness. He threw himself on the couch, when the voice of Altdorff came
like a winged harmony upon his spirit. The page was seated in the narrow
cloisters,--the lute, his untiring companion, enticing a few chords from
his touch, playful and gentle as the feelings that awaked them; some old
and quaint chant, scarce worth the telling, but cherished in the heart's
inmost shrine, from the hallowed nature of its associations.
Pages:
439
440
441
442
443
444
445
446
447
448
449
450
451
452
453
454
455
456
457
458
459
460
461
462
463