The intense excitement of the last few days had exhausted the sick man,
and before dawn Frau Schimmel was roused by his bell. When she entered
his room she found him sitting up in bed with burning cheeks and coughing
violently. He called for something to drink, saying that he was dying of
thirst.
When he was refreshed by a glass of wine mixed with water, which in Italy
had grown to be his favourite drink, he said to the old housekeeper that
he would not need to use his son's blood, as his own was equally
efficacious. He also asked her if perchance his father had wounded his
hand before he had discovered the elixir, and when Frau Schimmel stated
that he had, for she remembered the broken glass retort which had cut the
Court apothecary's finger the day before his death, he smiled and said:
"Now the wonderful fact of his discovery is explained. A drop of the
paternal blood must have found its way into the mixture. Thus one riddle
after another is solved, and soon the last mystery that remains will
become clear to me."
Then he added that having brought Truth into the world he was glad to
depart to that region where it was always day, where there were no
deceits and no uncertainties, and where the star of his life that had
set would arise for him once more.
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