his physical nature, in which a phenomenon was taking place analogous
to that which sometimes seizes upon men who have given themselves up

to protracted contemplations. If some strong thought bears upward on
phantasmal wing a man of learning or a poet, isolates him from the

external circumstances which environ him here below, and leads him
forward through illimitable regions where vast arrays of facts become

abstractions, where the greatest works of Nature are but images, then
woe betide him if a sudden noise strikes sharply on his senses and

calls his errant soul back to its prison-house of flesh and bones. The
shock of the reunion of these two powers, body and mind,--one of which

partakes of the unseen qualities of a thunderbolt, while the other
shares with sentient nature that soft resistant force which deifies

destruction,--this shock, this struggle, or, rather let us say, this
painful meeting and co-mingling, gives rise to frightful sufferings.

The body receives back the flame that consumes it; the flame has once
more grasped its prey. This fusion, however, does not take place

without convulsions, explosions, tortures; analogous and visible signs
of which may be seen in chemistry, when two antagonistic substances

which science has united separate.
For the last few days whenever Wilfrid entered Seraphita's presence

his body seemed to fall away from him into nothingness. With a single
glance this strange being led him in spirit through the spheres where

meditation leads the learned man, prayer the pious heart, where vision
transports the artist, and sleep the souls of men,--each and all have

their own path to the Height, their own guide to reach it, their own
individual sufferings in the dire return. In that sphere alone all

veils are rent away, and the revelation, the awful flaming certainty
of an unknown world, of which the soul brings back mere fragments to

this lower sphere, stands revealed. To Wilfrid one hour passed with
Seraphita was like the sought-for dreams of Theriakis, in which each

knot of nerves becomes the centre of a radiating delight. But he left
her bruised and wearied as some young girl endeavoring to keep step

with a giant.
The cold air, with its stinging flagellations, had begun to still the

nervous tremors which followed the reunion of his two natures, so
powerfully disunited for a time; he was drawn towards the parsonage,

then towards Minna, by the sight of the every-day home life for which
he thirsted as the wandering European thirsts for his native land when

nostalgia seizes him amid the fairy scenes of Orient that have seduced
his senses. More weary than he had ever yet been, Wilfrid dropped into

a chair and looked about him for a time, like a man who awakens from
sleep. Monsieur Becker and his daughter accustomed, perhaps, to the

apparent eccentricity of their guest, continued the employments in
which they were engaged.

The parlor was ornamented with a collection of the shells and insects
of Norway. These curiosities, admirably arranged on a background of

the yellow pine which panelled the room, formed, as it were, a rich
tapestry to which the fumes of tobacco had imparted a mellow tone. At

the further end of the room, opposite to the door, was an immense
wrought-iron stove, carefully polished by the serving-woman till it

shone like burnished steel. Seated in a large tapestried armchair near
the stove, before a table, with his feet in a species of muff,

Monsieur Becker was reading a folio volume which was propped against a
pile of other books as on a desk. At his left stood a jug of beer and

a glass, at his right burned a smoky lamp fed by some species of fish-
oil. The pastor seemed about sixty years of age. His face belonged to

a type often painted by Rembrandt; the same small bright eyes, set in
wrinkles and surmounted by thick gray eyebrows; the same white hair

escaping in snowy flakes from a black velvet cap; the same broad, bald
brow, and a contour of face which the ample chin made almost square;

and lastly, the same calm tranquillity, which, to an observer, denoted
the possession of some inward power, be it the supremacy bestowed by

money, or the magisterial influence of the burgomaster, or the
consciousness of art, or the cubic force of blissful ignorance. This

fine old man, whose stout body proclaimed his vigorous health, was
wrapped in a dressing-gown of rough gray cloth plainly bound. Between

his lips was a meerschaum pipe, from which, at regular intervals, he
blew the smoke, following with abstracted vision its fantastic

wreathings,--his mind employed, no doubt, in assimilating through some
meditative process the thoughts of the author whose works he was

studying.
On the other side of the stove and near a door which communicated with

the kitchen Minna was indistinctlyvisible in the haze of the good
man's smoke, to which she was apparently accustomed. Beside her on a

little table were the implements of household work, a pile of napkins,
and another of socks waiting to be mended, also a lamp like that which

shone on the white page of the book in which the pastor was absorbed.
Her fresh young face, with its delicateoutline, expressed an infinite

purity which harmonized with the candor of the white brow and the
clear blue eyes. She sat erect, turning slightly toward the lamp for

better light, unconsciously showing as she did so the beauty of her
waist and bust. She was already dressed for the night in a long robe

of white cotton; a cambric cap, without other ornament than a frill of
the same, confined her hair. Though evidently plunged in some inward

meditation, she counted without a mistake the threads of her napkins
or the meshes of her socks. Sitting thus, she presented the most

complete image, the truest type, of the woman destined for terrestrial
labor, whose glance may piece the clouds of the sanctuary while her

thought, humble and charitable, keeps her ever on the level of man.
Wilfrid had flung himself into a chair between the two tables and was

contemplating with a species of intoxication this picture full of
harmony, to which the clouds of smoke did no despite. The single

window which lighted the parlor during the fine weather was now
carefully closed. An old tapestry, used for a curtain and fastened to

a stick, hung before it in heavy folds. Nothing in the room was
picturesque, nothing brilliant; everything denoted rigorous

simplicity, true heartiness, the ease of unconventional nature, and
the habits of a domestic life which knew neither cares nor troubles.

Many a dwelling is like a dream, the sparkle of passing pleasure seems
to hide some ruin beneath the cold smile of luxury; but this parlor,

sublime in reality, harmonious in tone, diffused the patriarchal ideas
of a full and self-contained existence. The silence was unbroken save

by the movements of the servant in the kitchen engaged in preparing
the supper, and by the sizzling of the dried fish which she was frying

in salt butter according to the custom of the country.
"Will you smoke a pipe?" said the pastor, seizing a moment when he

thought that Wilfrid might listen to him.
"Thank you, no, dear Monsieur Becker," replied the visitor.

"You seem to suffer more to-day than usual," said Minna, struck by the
feeble tones of the stranger's voice.

"I am always so when I leave the chateau."
Minna quivered.

"A strange being lives there, Monsieur Becker," he continued after a
pause. "For the six months that I have been in this village I have

never yet dared to question you about her, and even now I do violence
to my feelings in speaking of her. I began by keenly regretting that

my journey in this country was arrested by the winter weather and that
I was forced to remain here. But during the last two months chains

have been forged and riveted which bind me irrevocably to Jarvis, till
now I fear to end my days here. You know how I first met Seraphita,

what impression her look and voice made upon me, and how at last I was
admitted to her home where she receives no one. From the very first

day I have longed to ask you the history of this mysterious being. On
that day began, for me, a series of enchantments."

"Enchantments!" cried the pastor shaking the ashes of his pipe into an
earthen-ware dish full of sand, "are there enchantments in these

days?"
"You, who are carefully studying at this moment that volume of the

'Incantations' of Jean Wier, will surely understand the explanation of
my sensations if I try to give it to you," replied Wilfrid. "If we

study Nature attentively in its great evolutions as in its minutest
works, we cannot fail to recognize the possibility of enchantment--

giving to that word its exact significance. Man does not create
forces; he employs the only force that exists and which includes all

others namely Motion, the breath incomprehensible of the sovereign
Maker of the universe. Species are too distinctly separated for the

human hand to mingle them. The only miracle of which man is capable is
done through the conjunction of two antagonistic substances. Gunpowder

for instance is germane to a thunderbolt. As to calling forth a