entrance of the Chateau and pulled at the iron chain.  The gates swung open at once and swiftly, without sound--and I stepped into the dark passage within—­whereupon they as noiselessly closed again behind me.  There was no going back now,—­ and nerving myself to resolution, I walked quickly on through what was evidently a long corridor with a lofty arched roof of massive stone; it was dark and cool and refreshing after the great heat outside, and I saw a faint light at the end towards which I made my way.  The light widened as I drew near, and an exclamation of relief and pleasure escaped me as I suddenly found myself in a picturesque quadrangle, divided into fair green lawns and parterres of flowers.  Straight opposite me as I approached, a richly carved double oaken door stood wide open, enabling me to look into a vast circular domed hall, in the centre of which a fountain sent up tall silver columns of spray which fell again with a tinkling musical splash into a sunken pool bordered with white marble, where delicate pale blue water-lilies floated on the surface of the water.  Enchanted by this glimpse of loveliness, I went straight on and entered without seeking the right of admission,—­and then stood looking about me in wonder and admiration.  If this was the House of Aselzion, where such difficult lessons had to be learned and such trying ordeals had to be faced, it certainly did not seem like a house of penance and mortification but rather of luxury.  Exquisite white marble statues were set around the hall in various niches between banked-up masses of roses and other blossoms—­many of them perfect copies of the classic models, and all expressing either strength and resolution, or beauty and repose.  And most wonderful of all was the light, that poured in from the high dome—­I could have said with truth that it was like that ‘light which never was on sea or land.’  It was not the light of the sun, but something more softened and more intense, and was totally indescribable.

Fascinated by the restful charm of my surroundings, I seated myself on a marble bench near the fountain and watched the sparkle of the water as it rose in rainbow radiance and fell again into the darker shadows of the pool,—­and I had for a moment lost myself in a kind of waking dream,—­so that I started with a shock of something like terror when I suddenly perceived a figure approaching me,—­that of a man, clothed in white garments fashioned somewhat after the monastic type, yet hardly to be called a monk’s dress, though he wore a sort of hood or cowl pulled partially over his face.  My heart almost stopped beating and I could scarcely breathe for nervous fear as he came towards me with an absolutely noiseless tread,—­he appeared to be young, and his eyes, dark and luminous, looked at me kindly and, as I fancied, with a touch of pity.

“You are seeking the Master?” he enquired, in a gentle voice—­“He has instructed me to receive you, and when you have rested for an hour, to take you to his presence.”