Through respect for the Pope, no one ventured to rise, but the Pontiff, yielding to his curiosity, approached the table, followed by a portion of the audience. They might look and look: nothing was to be seen but flame.
“I know not whether I must attribute it to the dazed state of my brain,” said his Holiness, passing his hand over his eyes, “but I can distinguish nothing.”
I, too, had much the same idea, but, far, from confessing it, I begged the Pope to come round the table and chose a more favorable spot. During this time I slipped my reserve watch into the Pope’s pocket. The experiment was certain, and the cardinal’s watch had, by this time, been reduced to a small ingot, which I held up to the spectators.
“Now,” I said, “I will restore this ingot to its original shape, and the transformation shall be performed during its passage to the pocket of a person who cannot be suspected of complicity.”
“Aha!” the Pope said, in a jocular tone, “that is becoming a little too strong. But what would you do, my good sorcerer, if I asked you to choose my pocket?”
“Your Holiness need only order for me to obey.”
“Well, Monsieur le Comte, let be so.”
“Your Holiness shall be immediately satisfied.”
I then took the ingot in my fingers, showed it to the company, and it disappeared on my uttering the word “Pass.”
The Pope, with manifestations of utter incredulity, thrust his hand into his pocket. I soon saw him blush with confusion, and draw out the watch, which he handed to the cardinal as if afraid of burning his fingers.