“I,” said the second, “have an unmarried sister, for whom it is meet that I should provide.”
“I,” said the third, “have an intimate and much-injured friend, whose cause I may in nowise forsake.”
“And I an enemy upon whom I would fain be avenged,” said the fourth.
“My life,” said the fifth, “is wholly devoted to science. Can I consent to lay it down ere I have sounded the seas of the seven climates?”
“Or I, until I have had speech of the man in the moon?” inquired the sixth.
“I,” said the seventh, “have neither mother nor sister, friends nor enemies, neither doth my zeal for science equal that of my fellows. But I have all the greater respect for my own skin; yea, the same is exceedingly precious in my sight.”
“The conclusion of the whole matter, then,” summed up the sage, “is that not one of you will make a venture for the cup of immortality?”
The young men remained silent and abashed, unwilling to acknowledge the justice of their master’s taunt, and unable to deny it. They sought for some middle path, which did not readily present itself.
“May we not,” said one at last, “may we not cast lots, and each take a phial in succession, as destiny may appoint?”
“I have nothing against this,” replied Aboniel, “only remember that the least endeavour to contravene the conditions by amending the chance of any one of you, will ensure the discomfiture of all.”