BOOK THE FIFTH
1. Chapter I
(continued)
'To the Unknown.'
'To happiness or to woe?'
'As thou hast sown, so shalt thou reap.'
'Dread thing, not so! If thou art the Ruler of Life, thine are my misdeeds,
not mine.'
'I am but the breath of God!' answered the mighty WIND.
'Then is my wisdom vain!' groaned the dreamer.
'The husbandman accuses not fate, when, having sown thistles, he reaps not
corn. Thou hast sown crime, accuse not fate if thou reapest not the harvest
of virtue.'
The scene suddenly changed. Arbaces was in a place of human bones; and lo!
in the midst of them was a skull, and the skull, still retaining its
fleshless hollows, assumed slowly, and in the mysterious confusion of a
dream, the face of Apaecides; and forth from the grinning jaws there crept a
small worm, and it crawled to the feet of Arbaces. He attempted to stamp on
it and crush it; but it became longer and larger with that attempt. It
swelled and bloated till it grew into a vast serpent: it coiled itself round
the limbs of Arbaces; it crunched his bones; it raised its glaring eyes and
poisonous jaws to his face. He writhed in vain; he withered--he
gasped--beneath the influence of the blighting breath--he felt himself
blasted into death. And then a voice came from the reptile, which still bore
the face of Apaecides and rang in his reeling ear:
'THY VICTIM IS THY JUDGE! THE WORM THOU WOULDST CRUSH BECOMES THE SERPENT
THAT DEVOURS THEE!'
With a shriek of wrath, and woe, and despairing resistance, Arbaces
awoke--his hair on end--his brow bathed in dew--his eyes glazed and
staring--his mighty frame quivering as an infant's, beneath the agony of
that dream. He awoke--he collected himself--he blessed the gods whom he
disbelieved, that he was in a dream--he turned his eyes from side to
side--he saw the dawning light break through his small but lofty window--he
was in the Precincts of Day--he rejoiced--he smiled; his eyes fell, and
opposite to him he beheld the ghastly features, the lifeless eye, the livid
lip--of the hag of Vesuvius!
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