A Romance of Two Worlds | Page 9

with some friends. In spite of the fears
she began to entertain concerning the Mephistophelian character of
Raffaello Cellini, there was one thing of which both she and I felt
morally certain: namely, that no truer or more honourable gentleman
than he ever walked on the earth. Under his protection the loveliest and
loneliest woman that ever lived would have been perfectly safe--as safe
as though she were shut up, like the princess in the fairy-tale, in a
brazen tower, of which only an undiscoverable serpent possessed the
key. When I arrived, the rooms were deserted, save for the presence of
a magnificent Newfoundland dog, who, as I entered, rose, and shaking
his shaggy body, sat down before me and offered me his huge paw,
wagging his tail in the most friendly manner all the while, I at once
responded to his cordial greeting, and as I stroked his noble head, I
wondered where the animal had come from; for though--we had visited
Signor Cellini's studio every day, there had been no sign or mention of
this stately, brown-eyed, four-footed companion. I seated myself, and
the dog immediately lay down at my feet, every now and then looking
up at me with an affectionate glance and a renewed wagging of his tail.
Glancing round the well-known room, I noticed that the picture I
admired so much was veiled by a curtain of Oriental stuff, in which
were embroidered threads of gold mingled with silks of various
brilliant hues. On the working easel was a large square canvas, already
prepared, as I supposed, for my features to be traced thereon. It was an
exceedingly warm morning, and though the windows as well as the
glass doors of the conservatory were wide open, I found the air of the
studio very oppressive. I perceived on the table a finely-wrought
decanter of Venetian glass, in which clear water sparkled temptingly.
Rising from my chair, I took an antique silver goblet from the

mantelpiece, filled it with the cool fluid, and was about to drink, when
the cup was suddenly snatched from my hands, and the voice of Cellini,
changed from its usual softness to a tone both imperious and
commanding, startled me.
"Do not drink that," he said; "you must not! You dare not! I forbid
you!"
I looked up at him in mute astonishment. His face was very pale, and
his large dark eyes shone with suppressed excitement. Slowly my
self-possession returned to me, and I said calmly:
"YOU forbid me, signor? Surely you forget yourself. What harm have I
done in helping myself to a simple glass of water in your studio? You
are not usually so inhospitable."
While I spoke his manner changed, the colour returned to his face, and
his eyes softened--he smiled.
"Forgive me, mademoiselle, for my brusquerie. It is true I forgot myself
for a moment. But you were in danger, and----"
"In danger!" I exclaimed incredulously.
"Yes, mademoiselle. This," and he held up the Venetian decanter to the
light, "is not water simply. If you will observe it now with the sunshine
beating full against it, I think you will perceive peculiarities in it that
will assure you of my veracity."
I looked as he bade me, and saw, to my surprise, that the fluid was
never actually still for a second. A sort of internal bubbling seemed to
work in its centre, and curious specks and lines of crimson and gold
flashed through it from time to time.
"What is it?" I asked; adding with a half-smile, "Are you the possessor
of a specimen of the far-famed Aqua Tofana?"
Cellini placed the decanter carefully on a shelf, and I noticed that he

chose a particular spot for it, where the rays of the sun could fall
perpendicularly upon the vessel containing it. Then turning to me, he
replied:
"Aqua Tofana, mademoiselle, is a deadly poison, known to the ancients
and also to many learned chemists of our day. It is a clear and
colourless liquid, but it is absolutely still--as still as a stagnant pool.
What I have just shown you is not poison, but quite the reverse. I will
prove this to you at once." And taking a tiny liqueur glass from a side
table, he filled it with the strange fluid and drank it off, carefully
replacing the stopper in the decanter.
"But, Signor Cellini," I urged, "if it is so harmless, why did you forbid
my tasting it? Why did you say there was danger for me when I was
about to drink it?"
"Because, mademoiselle, for YOU it would be dangerous. Your health
is weak, your nerves unstrung. That elixir is a powerful vivifying tonic,
acting with great rapidity on the entire system, and rushing through the
veins with the swiftness of ELECTRICITY.