“Nay. Such as I have no friends. But”—his shoulders suddenly straightened—“with such jewels as this that cause strife between man and man, and war between nation and nation—here—now—I make an end!”
Then raising himself to such a height that for a moment he appeared to be a giant, he swung about and hurled the crystal into the air with all his force.
The sun struck it there as it seemed for a moment to hang between earth and sky like a glittering bubble or a shining planet. Then it fell, fell, fell—until it dropped with a splash into the black, hurried waters of the Vistula River, so that the circles for a moment beat back the waves of the rushing torrent—then all was as before.
Deep silence fell upon the onlookers. There was in the man’s act something solemn, something unearthly, something supernatural—his emotion was so great and the crystal had been such a beauteous thing; and when Jan Kanty said, “Let us pray,” the whole company fell upon their knees. When he had finished a simple prayer they went forward and took up the alchemist where he had fallen, for he had dropped down as if he had been suddenly overcome by a sickness. They carried him back to the tower of the Church of Our Lady Mary where his niece and Pan Andrew’s wife watched over him.
Meanwhile the King called the scholar into conference, and after much parley, and much weighing of pros and cons, it was decided that no attempt should be made to rescue the crystal from the bed of the river. There had been in its history too much of suffering and misfortune to make it a thing at all desirable to possess, in spite of the purity of its beauty.
And should its hiding place become known—should a foreign power again seek to obtain it, what chance had such a power with the King’s army and the fortified city of the Wawel forever ready in its defense? Surely never had treasure a safer resting place.
And so to this day it has never been disturbed, though in later centuries many men have sought for it, and it rests somewhere in the Vistula River near the Wawel, where the alchemist, Kreutz, threw it in the year 1462.
Pan Andrew received from the state enough recompense to rebuild his house in the Ukraine and he repaired there that same year, taking with him Elzbietka and the alchemist who was broken in health for a long time as the result of his experiences. When he came to his senses a few days after he had thrown the crystal into the river, he had returned to his right mind fully though he had no remembrance of the dark scenes in which he had played a part. The student Tring must have left for his home in Germany directly after the fire, for he was never seen again in Krakow. In later years he gained some fame in his own native village by the practice of magic, in which it was said that he often called upon the devil himself for assistance.
Joseph continued his studies in the university until he reached his twenty-second year, and then he returned to the Ukraine to manage his father’s estates. He was shortly afterward married to Elzbietka, the friend of his boyhood days. . . . And now since we have come to the happy end of all things in this tale, may we close with the thought that every Pole carries in his mind—with the words that are foremost in the Polish National Hymn: