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.

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.

"Stupid devil!" cried Twardowski.

Then after a