Though for some time I dexterously evaded their questions, yet, at last, the Count and his tutor, joining together, urged me so far, that I could not avoid telling them, at once, the legends relating to the contents of this cabinet. In short, I repeated to them the whole story of St Anthony and the devil, nor (unluckily) did I leave out the warning which brother Cyrillus had given me, as to the danger of opening the box, or even the cabinet. Notwithstanding that the Count was of the Catholic religion, both he and his tutor seemed to have little or no faith in sacred legends. They both indulged in an exuberance of odd fancies and witty remarks on this comical devil, who had carried about bottles under his ragged mantle. At last, the tutor thought proper to assume a serious demeanour, and spoke as follows:—
"Do not, reverend sir, be offended with the levity of us men of the world. Be assured, on the contrary, that we both honour the Saints, and look on them as the most admirable examples of mortals inspired by religion, who, for the salvation of their souls, and edification of mankind, sacrificed all the enjoyments of life, and even life itself. But as to legends and stories such as you have just now related, in my opinion, these are, though not always, yet in many instances, (of which this is one,) only ingenious allegories, which, by misconception, are absurdly supposed to be histories of events that took place in real life."
With these words, the tutor had suddenly drawn aside the sliding cover of the box, and taken out the black strangely-formed bottle. Now, indeed, as brother Cyrillus had remarked to me, there spread itself abroad a strong odour, which appeared, however, anything rather than stupifying. It was, in a high degree, agreeable, generous, and refreshing.
"Hah!" exclaimed the Count, "now would I take any bet, that the Devil's Elixir is neither more nor less, than excellent old wine of Syracuse!"
"Unquestionably," said the tutor; "and if the bottle really came from the posthumous property of St Anthony, then, brother, you are more fortunate than the King of Naples, who, on one occasion, expected to be able to taste real old Roman wine; but, from the bad custom among the Romans, of pouring oil into the necks of their bottles instead of using corks, was debarred that gratification.
"Though this bottle," continued he, "is by no means so old as the Augustan age, yet, having been St Anthony's, it is certainly by far the most ancient that we are likely to meet with; and, therefore, reverend sir, you would, in my opinion, do well to apply the relic to your own use, and to sip up its contents with good faith and courage."
"Undoubtedly," resumed the Count, "this old Syracusan wine would pour new strength into your veins, and put to flight that bodily indisposition under which, reverend sir, you now seem to labour."
Hereupon the tutor pulled a cork-screw from his pocket, and, notwithstanding all my protestations to the contrary, opened the bottle. It seemed to me, as if, upon drawing the cork, a blue flame ascended into the air, which directly afterwards vanished. More powerfully then, the vaporous odour mounted out of the flask, and spread itself through the chamber!
The tutor tasted in the first place, and cried out with rapture—"Admirable, admirable Syracusan! In truth, the wine cellar of St Anthony was by no means a bad one; and if the devil really was his butler, then certainly he had no such evil intentions towards the Saint as people commonly suppose!—Now, my Lord Count, taste the wine!"
The Count did so, and confirmed what the tutor had said. Indeed he took a long draught, instead of a taste, from the bottle. They renewed their witticisms and merriment over the relic, which, according to them, was decidedly the finest in all the collection. They wished heartily, that they could have a whole cellar of such rarities, &c. &c.