His hearer, much interested, ventured to ask the address of the illustrious stranger, who graciously invited him to call. They walked past the cathedral and halted in a small quadrilateral street shaded by sycamores, and having a charming fountain in the centre.
“Signor,” said the stranger, “there is the house I inhabit. I receive no one; but as you are a traveller, as you are young and courteous, as, moreover, you are animated by a noble passion for the sciences, I permit you to visit me. I shall be visible to you to-morrow a little before midnight. You will rap twice on the hammer”—he pointed as he spoke to the door of a low-storied house—“then three times more slowly, and you will be admitted. Adieu! Hasten at once to your inn. A Piedmontese is trying to possess himself of the seven and thirty ounces of gold that are secured in your valise, and which is itself shut up in a press, the key of which is in your pocket at this moment. Your servant, signor!” and he departed rapidly.
Cagliostro, returning in all haste, discovered the thief in the act, and, as a lawful and righteously indignant proprietor, he forthwith delivered him to justice.
On the morrow, at the time appointed, he knocked at the door of the little house inhabited by the Armenian. It was opened at the fifth blow without any visible agency, and closed as soon as the visitor had entered. Cagliostro cautiously advanced along a narrow passage, illuminated by a small iron lamp in a niche of the wall. At the extremity of the passage a spacious door sprang open, giving admittance into a ground-floor parlour which was illuminated by a four-branched candelabra, holding tapers of wax, and was, in fact, a laboratory furnished with all the apparatus in use among practical alchemists. The Armenian, issuing from a neighbouring cabinet, greeted the visitor, inquired after the safety of the gold, had intelligence of the truth of his clairvoyance, and of the deserved fate of the malefactor, but cut short the expressed astonishment and admiration of Cagliostro by declaring that the art of divination was simply the result of scientific combinations and close observations. He ended by asking his hearer if he denied the infallible certitude of judicial astrology, but the self-constituted count denied nothing except the superior power of virtue over self-interest, whereat the Armenian inquired to whom he was indebted for his training.
“I was about to say to the solicitude of my uncles and to the apothecary in the Convent of the Bon Fratelli,” said Cagliostro; “but to what purpose? You undoubtedly know.”
“I know,” replied the strange individual, “that you have trained yourself; that the apothecary, equally with your uncles, has but opened for you the door to knowledge. What are your plans?”
“I intend to enrich myself.”
“That is,” said the other, grandiloquently, “you would make yourself superior to the imbecile mob—a laudable project, my son! Do you propose to travel?”
“Certainly, so far as my thirty-seven ounces of gold will take me.”
“You are very young,” said the Armenian. “How is bread manufactured?”