“No, I have a still surer method.”
“For the last time, defend yourself,” said Philippe, advancing towards him.
Then the count took from his pocket a little bottle, which he uncorked, and threw the contents in Philippe’s face. Scarcely had it touched him, when he reeled, let his sword drop, and fell senseless.
Cagliostro picked him up, put him on a sofa, waited for his senses to return, and then said, “At your age, chevalier, we should have done with follies; cease, therefore, to act like a foolish boy, and listen to me.”
Philippe made an effort to shake off the torpor which still held possession of him, and murmured, “Oh, sir, do you call these the weapons of a gentleman?”
Cagliostro shrugged his shoulders. “You repeat forever the same word,” he said; “when we of the nobility have opened our mouths wide enough to utter the word gentleman, we think we have said everything. What do you call the weapons of a gentleman? Is it your sword, which served you so badly against me, or is it your gun, which served you so well against Gilbert? What makes some men superior to others? Do you think that it is that high-sounding word gentleman? No; it is first reason, then strength, most of all, science. Well, I have used all these against you. With my reason I braved your insults, with my strength I conquered yours, and with my science I extinguished at once your moral and physical powers. Now I wish to show you that you have committed two faults in coming here with menaces in your mouth. Will you listen to me?”
“You have overpowered me,” replied Philippe; “I can scarcely move. You have made yourself master of my muscles and of my mind, and then you ask me if I will listen!”
Then Cagliostro took down from the chimney-piece another little gold phial. “Smell this, chevalier,” said he.
Philippe obeyed, and it seemed to him that the cloud which hung over him dispersed. “Oh, I revive!” he cried.
“And you feel free and strong?”