It was foursquare, about a cubit in height, and half as much on the side. The lid was pyramidal, with a winged figure on the apex. The entire surface of the object was carved over with a representation of a clambering rose-vine, amid the interstices of which were numerous little golden skeletons, some of them caught in the snare, other forcing their way actively between the branches. There was enough conventionalism in the treatment to preserve its dignity. The effect was grotesque, but grave.
The stranger now turned back the lid on its hinge, revealing a tall beaker, with panels of clear crystal set in gold and enriched with precious stones. He took it out of the box and set it down on a corner of the plinth. It bore a cover, and was half filled with some transparent liquid which sparkled like melted diamonds.
“There is a draft which few living men would venture to swallow,” the stranger remarked with an enigmatic smile. “The recipe for its making has been sought by many since then, but was never recovered. It is said to possess the property of enabling the drinker to win the desire of his heart; but if there be any doubt or falsehood in him, it will destroy him forever. Would you care to taste of it?”
His eyes were upon Jack as he spoke. There was a challenge in them, and yet warning. As Jack met the look, he knew who the stranger was. Solarion was come to offer him all he loved and longed for in life, but at the risk, should he prove unworthy, of death. It was the choice which, in some form, is submitted to every human creature at some epoch in his career. Jack laid a hand on the handle of the beaker, but paused.
“There’s no doubt in me of my love for her,” he said, addressing this mysterious messenger with a certain stateliness of manner not customary with him, but befitting the solemnity of the occasion. “But I’m a man, and no angel. There are things I’ve thought and done which I wish had been otherwise. Tell me this: if I fail, what will become of her?”
“I cannot answer,” replied Solarion. “But God deals with us all alike.”
Jack turned the words over in his mind. “I’m content!” he said at length.
He uncovered the beaker, from which rose immediately a marvelous fragrance that dispensed itself in the air about them. He had a glimpse of the troubled face of Argon, and exchanged a mute farewell with him.
The last thing he saw was Solarion, who stood in a meditative posture, one hand resting on the golden box, and his eyes fixed unswervingly upon him. Then, with the image of Miriam filling his soul, he raised the cup to his lips and drank.