by M C Dulac
Then at other times, he smiled in a way that made my heart race. He had the good looks of a young man and the sophisticated amusement of someone much older. Was he aware of the power of his attractiveness? Was that the reason I spent these hours by his side, forgetting to sleep or rest? Did he know I was under his spell? When Price gazed at me with his smoldering eyes, I was completely helpless.
But when I drew my eyes away from him, I had all the wonders of his magical laboratory. What I had learned from reading the books and the lists fused together and the Great Work appeared all around me. Even making gold was simple, once the secrets fell into place.
I wandered freely around the laboratory, peering into pots and bottles and trying to guess their contents. On the far wall behind a velvet curtain I found shelves of powders of every colour and hue. At the top of the shelf was a bottle containing bright red powder. The grains were shiny and seemed to vibrate behind the glass. I thought of the story of Price’s mistress and master. I did not ask Price if this bottle contained the alchemist’s last defense. Just looking at it, I knew its contents were not of our world.
There was only one time in that week, when the spell was broken. I had found an apparatus hidden amongst the shelves.
Dead petals floated to the surface of a liquid that had the unhealthy look of a stagnant pond. Next to the apparatus was a bottle of gold flakes and a powder that I had obtained at great trouble and expense from an apothecary near the Pont au Change.
“I forgot about that experiment,” Price said when I showed him, “It was a promising idea, but I must not have added the sulphur in time.”
“Should I throw it out?” I was cross, for I remembered how hard I had worked to get the gold flakes.
Price, the almighty alchemist, looked guilty, “If you wish. Take it into the garden.”
I poured the liquid down a drain near the gate. I was annoyed my hard work had come to nothing. Price was prolific but he left so many things unfinished.
* * * * *
Price told me many more strange fragments of his youth and stories of cities of the past, as though the events had just happened yesterday. Often this was when his experiments were not working, or needed to settle, or if he had no heart to work. He liked to walk through Paris, when the sun had set.
As we strolled along a fine boulevard one evening, he told me of the gradual changes the elixir wrought.
“One time I was in a castle outside Dublin, working on a potion. It must have been a hundred years after I had first tasted the elixir. I had rushed to my desk, to review my notes. Only when I went to blow out the candles, did I realise I had never lit them. I had been reading in utter darkness. When I caught my reflection in the glass, my eyes glowed blue. I was as frightening as a cat, prowling the night. What had the elixir done to me? First I could not bear sunlight and now the dark was claiming me.
“And a few years after that, a prince had given me a cellar in Germany in which to work. I worked day and night on medicines, until one day, the prince’s servant placed a hand on my shoulder. He said I had not eaten for days. It was true that I could not remember when I had last eaten, just as it was true I felt no hunger. I wondered how long the feeling would last. Then I realised, all I needed was the elixir.”
We stood before the skeleton of a grand building. Flares had been lit around the foundations, casting a golden glow on the piles of stone and pulleys. Our new king was building many monuments across Paris. Some had been planned by Napoleon before his fall. Parisians often grumbled at the constant works and noise.
“Everything changes, even Paris,” Price remarked, “If we return two centuries from now, will we recognise the city? Most people are born and die and are given one span of life. They grow old in the same place, and are revered and respected. But what of my life? My times were but a speck in history.”
“But think of all the things you have seen.”
“It is true I have seen many changes. I often wonder, will there ever be a century when I no longer have the heart to change?”
“It depends on the century,” I ventured, “And if it is exciting.”
Price laughed, and we continued on.
* * * * *
On a moonlit evening towards the end of the week, we took a carriage across Paris and came eventually to a cemetery on the edges of the city.
The statues of angels and crosses looked eerie among the twisting trees. But Price stepped out, asking the driver to wait for us. Price unlocked the iron gates and began walking along the rows of tombs, reading the inscriptions.
“I knew this man,” he said, standing before a marble tombstone, “He was a good scientist.”
The date on the stone was 1702.
“Cemeteries hold a great interest for me,” he winked, “As it is unlikely I will ever be in one.”
We strolled past the vaults of wealthy families and the humbler graves of the poor. At last we stopped at the feet of a marble angel.
“This is the tomb of a lady,” I peered at the lead inscription. The marble was so old, the lead stood out an inch from the surface, “Elise Marguerite - she has my name! What a beautiful monument.”
“This is how human beings attain immortality,” Price seemed very sad.
“But you have true immortality,” I said.
“Of course. I am a walking tombstone.”
Price was so dashing in the moonlight, he looked as perfect as any of the statues. I did not want to say such a thing, so I remained silent. He stared at me for a moment. I wandered ahead, aware he was close behind.
Who was I tonight - his apprentice, assistant or servant? That night I felt I was none of these. As I glanced at his alluring eyes, Price seemed strangely vulnerable and human.
“Sometimes I envy the dead and their monuments,” Price said, “Centuries go by, but I have no one to remember me, no one to grieve.”
“I will remember you - always!”
A smile lit up his face, “Will you, Elise?”
“Of course,” I blushed in the darkness.
“Then remember me in secret. To the world I cannot exist,” Price said.
I frowned and hung my head. Price grew silent as we walked past the gnarled trees. What was the reason for his change of mood?
“One day the world will be ready for your knowledge,” I said, “We are living in an age of discovery - and possibility.” I frowned when I realised I had used Champillon’s own words.
We had reached a very old part of the cemetery now. Tree branches brushed the ground over which we were walking. Price helped me down a set of cracked steps.
I went on, “If you share your knowledge with the Academy, you don’t have to be alone. These men are fascinated by inventions and engines and medicines. Tell them what you know and they will work with you.”
In a gap between the tombs, I saw the lights of Paris. Thousands of candles, glittering in thousands of windows. Surely, in all this teeming metropolis, there were some sympathetic souls.
“If only it could be.”
“The men in the Academy will not misuse your knowledge.”
“You are young, Elise, and you do not know men’s greed. No, I must work in secret, like all the alchemists, in the pursuit of true knowledge, unhindered by human weaknesses.”
He looked so strong and heroic in the moonlight. Price was a true alchemist, a scientist and an adventurer.
Price had cast a spell over me more powerful than any elixir. Even though my heart beat fast whenever he was near, and my gaze drifted to his handsome features, I did not dare dream of anything more. But as we stood under the trees that night, how I wished he felt the same way!
Price’s head was bowed as we walked on through the tombs. He was not the cold scientist, nor the distracted inventor, nor the determined businessman that night. He was a young man barely older than myself and every part of him was perfect. I breathed in the night air, aware my heart was racing.
“Elise,” Price said suddenly, stopping in fron
t of me. He seemed uncertain and when he spoke his breath was short, “I want you to know that I will always remember you.”
“Thank you, Monsieur.”
“Always,” he added.
I nodded.
His next question made my heart stop.
“Do you think that I am a handsome man?”
“Yes,” I said, for there was no denying it.
“That is also an effect of the elixir. I believe it has an effect on the impulses in the nerves, which give a person a heightened glow. My mistress was one of the most beautiful women I had ever seen, all those years ago in Switzerland. Perhaps that is why I stayed by her side.”
Under the stars, he glowed slightly as if something magical floated in his blood.
“Her beauty and the life she described was so intriguing. I had the idea I must either save her or join her and then face the same awful fate.”
Price walked around a mausoleum and then looked at me with his dark brooding eyes.
“I can never be sure if a person’s feelings are genuine or if it is the elixir. It is wrong to bewitch you. But I wish - is it too much to hope for that after all these lonely centuries, I have found a true companion at last?”
My heart skipped a beat. I could hardly believe what he had just said.
“Monsieur, I am surely unworthy.”
“Elise, you are more than worthy. It is I who do not deserve you.”
He pushed away a strand of my hair. His touch sent a chill down my spine. Was he really speaking these words? My world began to spin. It was impossible that he felt this way. But he leaned closer and his lips were close to mine.
If only the world would stop at this moment.
“How did you come to be here, Elise? It is like heaven itself sent you.”
Price’s words were like a knife through my heart. My cheeks suddenly burned with guilt as I thought of Champillon and his scheme to place me in the house.
“I hope, Monsieur, that heaven has a good reason,” I said, turning my face away.
Price straightened up.
“I am sorry,” he said quickly, “I should not have said such things. It was improper.”
He walked ahead of me. Price had misunderstood completely. I was aware of how everything had changed. How could I be such a fool? But what could I say to him? His strides were long and I ran to catch up.
“No, Monsieur, I did not mean -”
“Elise,” he held up his hand, “I understand. Please forgive me for my impertinence. I should not have spoken of my feelings and I should not have brought you here alone.”
I shook my head helplessly.
Price stared into the sky, then looked at me again, with a steady smile, “Let us speak of other things.”
The trees in this part of the cemetery grew high over the tombs. Price took something from his pocket. He knelt down and spilt a little on the ground.
“I do not know if the elixir has the same effect on plants. Wouldn’t it be wonderful to create a tree that lasted forever?”
The soil glowed and sizzled. Fumes rose and drifted into the night. The glow subsided. Nothing happened at once. But the elixir was beginning its work, changing the earth around the sapling. I gazed at the magical potion, dreaming of the everlasting tree.
“Monsieur -”
He offered me his arm, “There is no need to speak, Elise. My world is complex. And a cemetery is hardly the place for talk of matters of the heart.”
We walked back along the avenue of tombs. As we reached the cemetery gates, a crow rose from the branches overhead, shrieking loudly. It disturbed the other birds, and suddenly the whole night sky was alive.
“There must be a cat nearby,” I said.
“No. The birds sense dead things,” Price said grimly.
The carriage was waiting. Price helped me inside. My mind was spinning. Had he really said that I might be his true companion? Did he really feel that way about me? Now I knew his true feelings, my heart was like a bird with wings.
Price must have sensed it too. He held my hand on the journey to the Rue Belle. There were still so many misunderstandings. But we would overcome everything - I was sure of it.
Chapter Twelve
I woke the next morning elated. Price was not a monster, but a man fighting the monstrous side of human nature. Being alone so long had made him mistrustful and wary. I knew I could bring him out of the shadows. We would avoid the mistakes of the past. I would be his guide for the new century.
Then, like dark storm clouds, other thoughts gathered at the edge of my mind.
Champillon.
Champillon wanted me to spy on Price. I had told him about the powders, the chemicals and even the existence of the machine. I had to meet him that very day.
I had to make a choice. My decision was as clear as the stark daylight pouring through the attic windows. I would not see Champillon again.
As the hour of the meeting passed, I felt a twinge of guilt. But I repeated to myself over and over: I was now on Price’s side.
However, I could not escape Champillon. Mid-afternoon I heard a noise in the courtyard and saw a small boy dressed in a coat and breeches rattling the front gate. The boy called out as I opened the door.
“Are you Elise?”
“Yes. Why do you ask?”
“M’sieur Champillon sent me. M’sieur Champillon wants to know why you did not go to the café as he had told you.”
“Tell him -” I hated to lie, “Tell him, I was ill today.”
The boy nodded and scampered off.
Price needed herbs for the elixir of Saturn from a shop on the Rue St-Claude. I set out late that afternoon. I knew no one in that part of Le Marais, and it was unlikely Champillon would see me. Part of my mind was filled with guilt at defying Champillon; the other part was dreaming of seeing Price again. I was wandering so carelessly along the streets, that I was almost at the Rue Belle when I noticed a man close behind me. The man was watching intently. I had no choice except to walk straight past the house and around the corner. I lost the man near the gardens and returned to the Rue Belle unnoticed.
I realised how I could never be off my guard. Fate, so it seemed, was on my side this time, for the man had disappeared. But Price’s enemies were everywhere. It was now more important than ever to be vigilant.
Price appeared after sunset in high spirits. I forgot all my concerns at once. Although he did not mention our conversation in the cemetery, we were both aware of what had been said. There was a glow to his cheeks beneath the glow of the elixir. I hoped that I might be the cause, and took every smile and glance as a sign. I sat with him in the laboratory again, watching as he sprinkled the herbs into his swirling elixirs, and wishing the night was longer.
* * * * *
For the past week I had been in a daze. I had stayed awake all night to be with Price and had often forgotten to eat. But I was no immortal. The next morning, my head ached and my stomach growled in protest.
I was eating bread and cheese in the kitchen when I heard banging at the front gate. I peered warily through the window. It was Champillon’s servant boy again.
“M’sieur Champillon says to give you this,” he passed a note through the railings.
Champillon’s handwriting was wild and flamboyant, the opposite of Price’s. I could almost hear his voice:
“Come to the café at midday. Do not delay. J-L C”
I tried to think. Champillon must not know anything about the last week. I would not tell him that I had seen Price’s laboratory or that I had spoken with Price. My head ached when I thought how much I had already told him. I felt ill when I thought that he had Price’s lists.
I must pretend, I told myself, as I trailed through the mud to the café.
Champillon sat in the corner, scowling at the café and its patrons. His brows crossed as I approached and he did not offer any greeting.
“My servant boy said you were ill yesterday.”
“That is right, si
r.”
“Do not leave me waiting again,” he said, “Now tell me what Price has been doing.”
“He works in his laboratory, sir. He has only sent me out two days this last week.”
“The lists.”
“I did not bring them.”
Champillon glared at me, “You did not bring them?”
“Price only needed herbs - rosemary and nightshade - from the apothecary. The second time, he needed sulphur and magnesium, and he told me in person.”
“I hope, Elise,” Champillon said flatly, “That you are not lying to me.”
I looked away, although I could almost feel his burning eyes.
“I was speaking to a government minister at dinner last week. The conversation turned to Price,” Champillon said.
My pulse quickened and I leaned forward, “To Price?”
“Price is in serious trouble.”
The word sent a chill through my bones, “What sort of trouble?”
“Price has produced a quantity of gold for a family in the Rue St-Honoré. A rival family also approached Price but Price declined to help them. These bankers are very influential. Price is foolish to offend them.”
I took a deep breath. So Price had done what he knew was wrong. He was making gold for bankers.
“The government is also aware that Price is creating a steam-powered machine. That is of great interest to our industrialists, not to mention the English and the Prussians. There are many ears listening, all over Paris.”
“I am sure that Price knows what he is doing.”
“The more I learn of Price, the less I believe that he has any idea about anything.”
I chewed my lip. First bankers, now English and Prussian spies. I felt the walls of the city closing in on us.
Champillon continued, “He locks himself away with ancient books and chemicals, and yet what does he achieve?”
“Maybe he has good reasons for keeping his secrets.”