his 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.

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 t