When morning came, however, doubts were forgotten, and Twardowski was glad to have the devil at his command. The first thing that he demanded was to have all the silver of Poland gathered together in one place and covered over with great mounds of sand.
Similar requests followed, and it was not long before the devil repented of his bargain. One day it would please Twardowski to fly without wings through the air; on another, to the delight of the crowd, to gallop backward on a cock; on another to float in a boat without a rudder or sail, accompanied by some maiden who for the moment had inflamed his heart. One day, by the use of his magic mirror, he set fire to the castle of an enemy a mile away. This last feat made him greatly feared by people far and wide.
At last the seven years were up. The devil appeared to Twardowski and said:
“Twardowski, the time of our pact is over, and I command you to fulfill your promise and go to Rome.”
“What shall I do there?”
“Give me your immortal soul,” was the answer.
“Do you think I am a fool?” asked Twardowski.
“You gave me your promise to go to Rome after seven years.”
“That I have already done,” said Twardowski, “and I did not promise to stay in Rome.”
“Noble deceiver!” exclaimed the Evil One.