e books, he might do if he would brave the
terrors of the underworld.

So Twardowski determined to enter the gates of hell. At his magic
speech the ground opened and he began the path of descent. Blue flames
lighted the way. Deeper and deeper he went through dark and winding
passages. At last he reached the underworld itself, and many awful
sights did he behold.

And the farther he went the more frightened did he become. He could
not help feeling that the devil had plotted something against him.
Finally he found himself in a small room, and cast a hasty glance
around, looking for a means of escape.

Seeing a child in a cradle in one corner of the room he seized it
hastily, threw his cloak around it, and was about to leave when the
door opened and the Evil One entered.

He made a respectful bow and said, "Will you be good enough to go with
me now?"

"Why so?" asked Twardowski, obstinately.

"Because of our agreement."

"But," said the magician, "only in Rome have you power over me."

"Yes," replied the devil, "and Rome is the name of this house."

"You think to trick me by a pun; but you cannot. I carry this talisman
of innocence," and throwing aside his cloak, he disclosed the sleeping
child.

Anger showed in the face of the devil; but he stepped nearer to
Twardowski and said softly:

"What are you thinking of, Twardowski? Have you forgotten your
promise? The nobleman's word is sacred to him."

Pride awoke in the breast of the magician.

"I must keep my word," he said, laying the child back in the crib, and
surrendering himself.

On the shoulders of the devil two wings appeared, like the wings of a
bat. He seized Twardowski and flew away with him, mounting higher and
higher into the night. The magician was so terrified and suffered
such anguish in the clutches of the Evil One that in a few moments he
was changed into an old man, but he did not lose consciousness. At
last so high were they that cities appeared like flies and Krakau with
its mighty turrets like two spiders. Deeply moved, Twardowski looked
down upon the scene of all his struggles and all his joys.

But higher and higher they went--higher than any eagle has ever
flown--and more lonely and more fearful did it seem to Twardowski.
Only occasionally bright stars passed by them, or fiery meteors,
leaving a long streak of light behind.

At last they came to the moon, which stared at them with dead eyes.
Then a song that Twardowski had read i