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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