The Cream of the Jest by James Branch Cabell

"Alas! the sprite that haunts us Deceives our rash desire; It whispers of the glorious gods, And leaves us in the mire: We cannot learn the cipher Inscribed upon our cell; Stars taunt us with a mystery Which we lack lore to spell. "

Such as has been described was now Felix Kennaston's manner of living, which, as touches utilitarian ends, it might be wiser forthwith to dismiss as bred by the sickly fancies of an idle man bemused with unprofitable reading. By day his half of the sigil lay hidden in the library, under a pile of unused bookplates. But nightly this bit of metal was taken with him to bed, in order that, when held so as to reflect the candlelight -- for this was always necessary -- it might induce the desired dream of Ettarre; and that, so, Horvendile would be freed of Felix Kennaston for eight hours uninterruptedly.