"I thank you, sir, I thank you! Give me your hand. I take you for my friend, and trust you. Come with me to my laboratory."
So saying, he passed his arm within that of his brother-in-law, and led him to the opposite end of the room. Barbesieur laid his hand on the bolt, but the door was locked.
"You see," said Strozzi, waxing confidential, "I keep this door always locked, for let me tell you, my dear friend, that Eugene of Savoy has surrounded my castle with a regiment of dragoons, who are his spies. That is the reason why I never talk to anybody—I am so afraid that my people will betray me to Prince Eugene's dragoons. Luckily, they have never found out the secret of my laboratory, for I always carry the key in my pocket. Here it is." He took out his key and unlocked the door, but before opening it he addressed Barbesieur in a solemn whisper:
"My dear friend, before you enter my sanctuary, swear to me, by the memory of my dear departed wife, that you will not betray its secrets to Prince Eugene's dragoons."
"I swear, my dear Strozzi, by sun, moon, and stars—"
Strozzi shook his head, and folded his hands reverently. "No, no; swear by the memory of my sainted Laura."
Barbesieur swore, and the door was opened.
"Come in," said Strozzi.
"And may all the gods of vengeance bless my entrance hither!" muttered Barbesieur, between his teeth.
The room was as Carlotta had described it. Its long shelves were filled with jars and phials, and over the chimney was a wide mantel, with porcelain pipkins, retorts, glass tubes, and flasks.