We said that we had no idea.
“I wouldn’t dare tell you the secret,” he went on, “as the bottle is worth five hundred thousand yen. If you should pay me a hundred yen I would not allow you one taste.”
We expressed our happiness that he should have such a fortune. Then he asked if we were Americans and, upon hearing that we were, he formally inquired for an answer as to whether the American nation would buy the bottle. “I can tell you this much,” he concluded, “it contains the elixir of eternal life.”
The ancient seemed to be such proof in himself that he had lived forever that there was no arguing about eternity with him. For the sake of saying something Hori made the casual guess, “Is it radium?” He was startled into palsy. The crowd stared. Evidently they had heard of radium and it meant magic. Alas! We had gouged out the secret. “Ah-h-h!” said he, “since you know so much, how can you resist the opportunity of living forever?” We explained that under the circumstances of our poverty it looked as if we should have to die along with the rest of the world.
“I have been but testing your faith and knowledge,” he said. “The radium of the rocks is permanent. Listen! The bottle may be filled again and again without losing its strength. For only thirty yen you may drink.”
Forthwith he uncorked the bottle and there escaped an odour so vile that if he had said the tube was the sarcophagus of the lost egg of the great auk we should have believed without dispute. He poured a few drops into a glass and said: “Drink, and you will live forever!”
It is not alone honour that may make one choose death.
The crowd, however, sought eagerly for eternity. They passed the glass around and touched their tongues to the liquid. If any out of the number of that circle escaped typhoid that fact alone ought to convince them of their strength to continue a long way on the road to eternity.