Before long there was an earthquake; great rocks were loosened, the ground opened at Twardowski's feet and flames leaped out; and in the flames appeared the Evil One himself, in the form of a man, clad in a red cloak with the well-known pointed red cap.
“What do you wish?” the devil asked.
“The power of your most secret wisdom,” was the answer.
“And how is this to be done?”
“You shall make me the most celebrated of all the learned men of the century, and shall besides give me such happiness as no man has ever enjoyed upon this earth before.”
“So be it,” said the devil. “But on condition that at the end of seven years I gain possession of your soul.”
“You may take me,” answered Twardowski, “but only in Rome may you have power over me. Thither, at the end of seven years, will I go.”
The devil hesitated over this clause, but thinking of the fun he could have in the holy city, finally agreed. Leaning against the wall of stone he wrote the compact, which Twardowski, making a slight wound in his arm, signed with his own blood.
When Twardowski descended from the mountain and made his way, book under arm, through the valley, he heard the bells in all the towers of the city ringing out clearly and solemnly on the still night air. He listened, wondering at the unaccustomed noise, then hurried into the town, inquiring from every one he met what the occasion was. But no one seemed to have heard the sound.
Then a deep feeling of sadness came over him as he realized the meaning of the bells. They were the funeral knell of his own soul.