“Well, it is easy,” returned Cagliostro; and he drew from his pocket a small bottle, and poured into a glass some of the liquid it contained. Then, mixing these drops with half a glass of iced champagne, he passed it to the baron.
All eyes followed his movements eagerly.
The baron took the glass, but as he was about to drink he hesitated.
Every one began to laugh, but Cagliostro called out, “Drink, baron, or you will lose a liquor of which each drop is worth a hundred louis d’ors.”
“The devil,” cried Richelieu; “that is even better than tokay.”
“I must then drink?” said the baron, almost trembling.
“Or pass the glass to another, sir, that some one at least may profit by it.”
“Pass it here,” said Richelieu, holding out his hand.
The baron raised the glass, and decided, doubtless, by the delicious smell and the beautiful rose color which those few drops had given to the champagne, he swallowed the magic liquor. In an instant a kind of shiver ran through him; he seemed to feel all his old and sluggish blood rushing quickly through his veins, from his heart to his feet, his wrinkled skin seemed to expand, his eyes, half covered by their lids, appeared to open without his will, and the pupils to grow and brighten, the trembling of his hands to cease, his voice to strengthen, and his limbs to recover their former youthful elasticity. In fact, it seemed as if the liquid in its descent had regenerated his whole body.
A cry of surprise, wonder, and admiration rang through the room.