“Gladly and gratefully,” I replied.

“You shall not lose by it.  I can initiate you into many secrets that will be useful to you in your career.  As for your friend Mrs. Everard, you will find that your presence will cure her.  You have progressed greatly in electric force:  the mere touch of your hand will soothe her, as you will find.  But never be tempted to try any of the fluids of which you have the recipes on her, or on anybody but yourself, unless you write to me first about it, as Cellini did when he tried an experiment on you.  As for your own bodily and spiritual health, you know thoroughly what to do—­keep the secret; and make a step in advance every day.  By-and-by you will have double work.”

“How so?” I asked.

“In Zara’s case, her soul became dominated by a Spirit whose destiny was fulfilled and perfect, and who never could descend to imprisonment in earthly clay.  Now, you will not be dominated—­you will be simply equalized; that is, you will find the exact counterpart of your own soul dwelling also in human form, and you will have to impart your own force to that other soul, which will, in its turn, impart to yours a corresponding electric impetus.  There is no union so lovely as such an one—­no harmony so exquisite; it is like a perfect chord, complete and indissoluble.  There are sevenths and ninths in music, beautiful and effective in their degrees; but perhaps none of them are so absolutely satisfying to the ear as the perfect chord.  And this is your lot in life and in love, my child—­ be grateful for it night and morning on your bended knees before the Giver of all good.  And walk warily—­your own soul with that other shall need much thought and humble prayer.  Aim onward and upward—­ you know the road—­you also know, and you have partly seen, what awaits you at the end.”

After this conversation we spoke no more in private together.  The rest of the afternoon was entirely occupied with the final preparations for Zara’s funeral, which was to take place at Pere-la-Chaise early the next morning.  A large and beautiful wreath of white roses, lilies, and maiden-hair arrived from Prince Ivan; and, remembering my promise to him, I went myself to lay it in a conspicuous place on Zara’s corpse.  That fair body was now laid in its coffin of polished oak, and a delicate veil of filmy lace draped it from head to foot.  The placid expression of the features remained unchanged, save for a little extra rigidity of the flesh; the hands, folded over the crucifix, were stiff, and looked as though they were moulded in wax.  I placed the wreath in position and paused, looking wistfully at that still and solemn figure.  Father Paul, slowly entering from a side-door, came and stood beside me.

“She is happy!” he said; and a cheerful expression irradiated his venerable features.

“Did you also know she would die that night?” I asked softly.

“Her brother sent for me, and told me of her expected dissolution.  She herself told me, and made her last confession and communion.  Therefore I was prepared.”