“Adon Ai, appear! appear!”
And as the Seer spoke, the awful Presence glided out of Nothingness, and sat, sphinx-like, at the feet of the Alchemist.
“I am come!” said the Thing.
“You should say, ‘I have come,’—it’s better grammar,” said the Boy-Neophyte, thoughtfully accenting the substituted expression.
“Hush, rash Boy,” said the Seer sternly. “Would you oppose your feeble knowledge to the infinite intelligence of the Unmistakable? A word, and you are lost forever.”
The Boy breathed a silent prayer, and handing a sealed package to the Seer, begged him to hand it to his father in case of his premature decease.
“You have sent for me,” hissed the Presence. “Behold me, Apokatharticon,—the Unpronounceable. In me all things exist that are not already coexistent. I am the Unattainable, the Intangible, the Cause, and the Effect. In me observe the Brahma of Mr. Emerson; not only Brahma himself, but also the sacred musical composition rehearsed by the faithful Hindoo. I am the real Gyges. None others are genuine.”
And the veiled Son of the Starbeam laid himself loosely about the room, and permeated Space generally.
“Unfathomable Mystery,” said the Rosicrucian in a low, sweet voice. “Brave Child with the Vitreous Optic! Thou who pervadest all things and rubbest against us without abrasion of the cuticle. I command thee, speak!”
And the misty, intangible, indefinite Presence spoke.
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