Corbario's hand again lay on the table and he was gazing out into the
night, as if he were curious about the weather. The moon was just
rising, being past the full.

"Is that all you have of the poison?" he asked in an idle tone.

"Oh, no! This is only a small supply which I carry with me for
experiments. I have made enough to send all our thirty-three millions of
Italians to sleep for ever!"

Kalmon laughed pleasantly.

"If this could be properly used, civilisation would make a gigantic
stride," he added. "In war, for instance, how infinitely pleasanter and
more æsthetic it would be to send the enemy to sleep, with the most
delightful dreams, never to wake again, than to tear people to pieces
with artillery and rifle bullets, and to blow up ships with hundreds of
poor devils on board, who are torn limb from limb by the explosion."

"The difficulty," observed the Contessa, "would be to induce the enemy
to take your poison quietly. What if the enemy objected?"

"I should put it into their water supply," said Kalmon.

"Poison the water!" cried the Signora Corbario. "How barbarous!"

"Much less barbarous than shedding oceans of blood. Only think--they
would all go to sleep. That would be all."