As she, however, shrank back from him, still somewhat fearful, he demanded loftily if she ever would have dared to announce to him, her old master, so candidly what she thought of him, as she had done an hour ago, if she had not inhaled the contents of the phial.  And Frau Vorkel had to admit that she had been forced by some occult power to utter those disrespectful speeches.  She looked with awed wonder, first at her master, then at the little bottle, and suddenly broke out with:  “My!  My What will be left for the judges to do when everyone can be forced to speak out boldly and disclose his smallest sin.  My!  My!  But then we shall hear pretty tales!  From the Burgomaster down, everyone in Leipsic will have to get a new pair of ears, for what one hears will be as outrageous and unseemly as among the savages.”

These observations showed the Court apothecary that Frau Vorkel had, despite her want of intelligence, grasped to a certain extent the importance of his discovery; while this pleased him in a way, it also made him uneasy, therefore he made her swear on the crucifix that so long as she lived she would never impart to any living soul, his son excepted, what she had that evening experienced.

Then Herr Ueberhell went back to his search for the unknown element which had given to his son’s elixir the power that had been exhibited in such wonderful fashion.  But he did not succeed in finding the right ingredient, for as often as he called Frau Vorkel to come and inhale the new mixture, she gave such plausible and politic answers to his dangerous questions that he could be by no means sure of her absolute truthfulness.  Then too the operations progressed slowly because that day at noon his finger had been badly cut by the bursting of a glass retort.  So presently he ceased work for a while and insisted that Frau Vorkel should take the phial in her own hand and inhale its contents once more, because it pleased him to try the power of the elixir.

With an amused smile he asked her if she used the great quantities of wool, which she so constantly demanded, for no other purpose than to knit socks for him.

The phial trembled in the hand of the housekeeper, and before she could help it her response had passed her lips: 

“You have all the socks that you need and it is surely no great crime for me to knit a few pairs to warm the feet of your assistant, that poor, silent worm who stands downstairs the livelong day in the cold shop.”

Despite this reply Herr Ueberhell only laughed and continued the inquisition gaily.  He next wished to know who was dearer to the heart of the housekeeper, the assistant or her late husband, to which she rejoined “Why should I lament Vorkel?  He was a bully, who never could learn how to cut out a coat, and always stole his customers’ cloth.”  At that moment there was an ominous crash on the floor, and a powerful odour filled the laboratory; the phial had slipped from the hands of the frightened woman.