Then the wizard fell on his knees, cursing hell and heaven; for he could
not see how he should escape. For the potion worked. And Antonio
wondered what should fall out next. But Duke Valentine leapt down from
his horse and approached the wizard, while Lorenzo set his sword against
Antonio's breast. And the Duke, desirous to make a final trial, cried
again to Antonio, "Fling yourself from your horse." And Antonio, having
his arms bound, yet flung himself from his horse, and fell prone on the
ground, and lay there sorely bruised.
"It is enough," said the Duke. "You lied, wizard."
But the wizard cried, "I lied not, I lied not, my lord. Slay me not, my
lord! For I dare not die."
But the Duke caught him by the throat and drove his dagger into his
breast till the fingers that held the dagger were buried in the folds
of the wizard's doublet; and the Duke pulled out the dagger, and, when
the wizard fell, he pushed him with his foot over the brink, and the
body fell with a loud splash into the river below.
Thus died the Wizard of Baratesta, who was famed above all of his day
for the hidden knowledge that he had; yet he served not God, but Satan,
and his end was the end of a sinner. And, many days after, his body was
found a hundred miles from that place; and certain charitable men,
brethren of my own order, gave it burial. So that he died that same
night in which the mirror had shown him his face as the face of a dead
man; but whence came the vision I know not.
Then the Duke set Antonio again on his horse, and the three rode
together towards Firmola, and as they went, again and again the Duke
tested the operation of the drug, setting Antonio many strange,
ludicrous, and unseemly things to do and to say; and Antonio did and
said them all. But he wondered greatly that the drug had no power over
him, and that his brain was clear and his senses all his own; nor did
he then believe that the Duke had, in truth, slain the wizard for any
reason save that the wizard had harboured him, an outlaw, and suffered
him to hear the Duke's counsels: and he was grieved at the wizard's
death.
Thus they rode through the night; and it was the hour of dawn when they
came to the gates of Firmola. Now Antonio was puzzled what he should do;
for having been in a swoon, he knew not whether the Duke had more of the
potion; nor could he tell with certainty whether the potion would be
powerless against the senses of a weak girl as it had proved against his
own. Therefore he said to the Duke, "I pray you, my lord, give me more
of that sweet drink. For it has refreshed me and set my mind at rest
from all trouble."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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