If you will observe it now with the sunshine beating full against it, I think you will perceive peculiarities in it that will assure you of my veracity." I looked as he bade me, and saw, to my surprise, that the fluid was never actually still for a second.

A sort of internal bubbling seemed to work in its centre, and curious specks and lines of crimson and gold flashed through it from time to time.
"What is it ?" I asked; adding with a half-smile, "Are you the possessor of a specimen of the far-famed Aqua Tofana ?" Cellini placed the decanter carefully on a shelf, and I noticed that he chose a particular spot for it, where the rays of the sun could fall perpendicularly upon the vessel containing it.

Then turning to me, he replied: "Aqua Tofana, mademoiselle, is a deadly poison, known to the ancients and also to many learned chemists of our day.

It is a clear and colourless liquid, but it is absolutely still--as still as a stagnant pool.

What I have just shown you is not poison, but quite the reverse.
I will prove this to you at once." And taking a tiny liqueur glass from a side table, he filled it with the strange fluid and drank it off, carefully replacing the stopper in the decanter.
"But, Signor Cellini," I urged, "if it is so harmless, why did you forbid my tasting it?
Why did you say there was danger for me when I was about to drink it ?" "Because, mademoiselle, for YOU it would be dangerous.