BOOK III.
THE DWELLER OF THE THRESHOLD.
“Adon Ai, appear! appear!”
And as the Seer spoke, the awful Presence glided
out of Nothingness, and sat, sphinxlike, 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 co-existent.
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.
