The knight was visibly perturbed, but at last he answered,—
“In this matter I am sworn to secrecy.”
“All secrets reveal themselves at the king’s command,” replied James sternly. “Speak out; speak fully, and speak quickly.”
“There is no guilt in the secret, your majesty. I doubt if any of your court would hesitate to tell you all, were it not that they fear ridicule, which is a thing a Scottish noble is loth to put up with whether from the king or commoner.”
“Get on, and waste not so much time in the introduction,” said his majesty shortly.
“Well, there came some time since to Stirling, an Italian chemist, who took up his abode and set up his shop in the abandoned refectory of the old Monastery. He is the author of many wonderful inventions, but none interests the court so much as the compounding of pure gold in a crucible from the ordinary earth of the fields.”
“I can well believe that,” cried the king. “I have some stout fighters in my court who fear neither man nor devil in battle, yet who would stand with mouth agape before a juggler’s tent. But surely, Davie, you, who have been to the colleges, and have read much from learned books, are not such a fool as to be deluded by that ancient fallacy, the transmutation of any other metals into gold?”
Sir David laughed uneasily.
“I did not say I believed it, your majesty, still, a man must place some credence in what his eye sees done, as well as in what he reads from books; and after all, the proof of the cudgel is the rap on the head. I have beheld the contest, beginning with an empty pot and ending with a bar of gold.”