[Illustration: the sculpture of Modesty burning the books]
As he looked on these apparitions, Zambullo trembled. "What!" said the Devil to him, "you are agitated! Is it with fear of these ghostly visitants? Let not their ghastly apparel alarm you! Look at it well! It will adorn your own majestic person some of these days. It is the uniform of the shades: collect yourself, and fear nothing. Is it possible your assurance can fail you now,--you, who have had the daring to look on me? These gentry are harmless compared with myself."
The Student, at these words, recalling his wonted courage, looked on the phantoms with tranquillity; which the Demon perceiving: "Bravo!" said he. "Well! now," he continued, "regard these shadows with attention! You will perceive that the occupant of the stately mausoleum is confounded with the inhabitant of the unstoned grave. The ranks by which they were distinguished in their lives died with them; and the grand chamberlain and the prime minister are no more now than the lowliest citizen that moulders in this church. The greatness of these noble shades ended with their days, as that of the strutting hero of a tragedy falls with the curtain."
"I have a remark to make," interrupted Leandro. "I see a lonely spirit hovering about, and seeming to shun all contact with his fellows." "Rather say," replied the Demon, "and you will speak the truth, that his fellows shun all company with him: and what now think you is that poor ghost? He was an old notary, who had the vanity to be buried in a leaden coffin; which has so offended the self-love of the more humble tenants of the surrounding tombs, that they resolved to black-ball him, and will not therefore permit his shade to mix with theirs."
"I have another observation yet to make," resumed Don Cleophas. "Two shadows, just now, on meeting, stopped for a moment to look upon each other, and then passed each on his way." "They are, or rather were, two intimate friends," replied the Devil; "one was a painter, and the other a musician: they both drew their inspiration from the bottle; but were, otherwise, honest fellows enough. It is worthy of note that they both brushed off in the same year; and when their spirits meet, struck by the remembrance of their former delights, they say to each other by their sorrowful but expressive silence: 'Ah! my friend, we shall drink no more.'"