The next morning I awoke without any headache from the intemperance of the previous night. As soon as I quitted the apartment I met the princess outside. “I am still in the same mind, dear princess,” said I, implanting a kiss upon her hand, “to live for you alone, or die if I cannot remain with you.”
She smiled and answered, “Then for you will I sacrifice every thing; for until I beheld you, I never was aware that I had a heart. Rise and follow me, and you shall know all.”
“We passed the large hall, with which the whole of the bed-chambers communicated, and she conducted me through a dark passage to a room, in which were several golden plinths without statues. At the further end of it I perceived, to my horror, that two of them were already occupied with the forms of the boatswain and sailor who had been intoxicated the night before. They were now changed into the same blue chalcedony of which the statues in the porticos were composed.
“Do you recognise these figures?” inquired the princess.
“I do, indeed,” answered I with amazement.
“Such are the effects,” continued she, “of intoxication from the water of the golden fountain. They contain in solution so large a quantity of the matter which by mineralogists is denominated silex, that once allow the senses to be overpowered by repeated draughts, and in a few hours the effects which you behold will be produced. It is by these means that my father has obtained the variety and number of statues which you have seen—all of whom were once visitors to the island in different ships, not one of the crews of which have ever returned. It has also the power of producing longevity, and hardening the hearts of those who use it in moderation. My father’s cruelty, therefore, is not thought of by his subjects, who, if convicted of any heinous crime, are forced to drink this water, and are erected as monuments of his displeasure in various parts of the island. You may ask, how is it that I have not as little remorse as the other inhabitants?