The Alchemist of Paris

by M C Dulac

  “Keeping his secrets? He is the most famous secret in Paris.”

  I could not make Champillon suspicious but I had to defend Price, “Perhaps he has no choice. It is society that forces him into the shadows.”

  “He cannot blame society. Price brings all his problems upon himself. He comes to the Academy with new and fascinating technology and then he disappears. He lets it known that he can make gold, but then makes powerful enemies. He learns the secrets of medicine, and yet does not share them.”

  “He is in a difficult position,” I pleaded.

  “He makes his own life difficult. And dangerous. It does not trouble me that Price is using my house for forgery, but I am concerned that he has packed my garden house with volatile mercury.”

  “He watches his experiments closely - I’m sure.”

  “Let us pray that he does. The house on the Rue Belle has been in my family for many years. I really do not want to see it burnt to the ground.”

  I pressed my fingertips to my forehead. I had a headache across my skull.

  Champillon dropped his voice. His tone was kind, “I can help you, Elise, as long as you help me. Believe me, Price is in great danger. I will send Gerard, my servant boy, to you each evening. Write down anything you notice and hand Gerard the note. And you must come here at once if I tell you.”

  I nodded.

  Champillon took a deep breath, “Together we will save Price from himself.”

  Champillon was flustered. Why did he care? Was it fear for his house, desire for Price’s secrets or concern for Price’s safety?

  “Go, Elise,” he said, “And be careful.”

  The headache did not lift as I walked through the grey streets to the Rue Belle. Champillon’s words ran through my mind, over and over.

  Price was my hero. I did not want to believe he had faults. And yet was there some truth in what Champillon said? Price’s very secrecy created an aura of mystery which attracted attention. Price could be forgetful and easily distracted. He buried himself in his work as if he were trying to escape reality. I thought of Price’s vast laboratory, with all the bubbling pots, the books strewn across the floor and the half completed experiments. His devotion to his art was admirable, but where was it leading?

  And what of his words in the cemetery? Did he really have feelings for me? How could I, a mere servant, be a companion to such a learned and mysterious man? Such feelings could only be expressed in the dark shadows of night, for how could we live together in daylight? Our future was surely doomed.

  And yet I could not help believing that Price would work everything out.

  I desperately wanted to speak to Price. I waited in the courtyard until the sun set. As the sun sank beneath the rooftops, the lock on the laboratory door moved. My heart leapt as the door opened.

  Price wore a cloak and hat. They were his finest clothes, the same that he had worn the night he had spoken to the man in the Rue St-Honoré. As he strode across the yard, his chin was firm and his eyes were determined. He had the air of a man as old as Champillon. This was yet another side of Price, and when he was this way I knew I could not get through to him.

  He checked his pocket watch and glanced at the street. I stepped out of the shadows. When he saw me his eyes softened, but he was distracted.

  “Good evening, Elise,” his smile melted my heart as always, “I must attend to business this evening.”

  I hoped he was not going to the Rue St-Honoré. I wanted to ask, but how could I say that I knew that he was making gold for the bankers, without admitting that Champillon had told me?

  “Do you need me to come with you?”

  “Unfortunately I must go alone.”

  “When will you be back?”

  “I am not certain.”

  “Monsieur -”

  “We will speak tomorrow,” Price kissed my hand, “Do not wait up.”

  I watched him disappear along the Rue Belle.

  Midnight came and went and Price did not return. I sat by my attic window, unable to sleep. There was not a single carriage or cart in the streets now. The railings and the trees were mere silhouettes in the dark. There was no light to give form to the shapes of the night.

  Then my gaze stopped, for there was a movement by the gatepost.

  As the shadowy shape stepped away from the post, I saw it was a man in a hat and coat. He looked at the house and the courtyard.

  I had never seen anyone near the Rue Belle before. My thoughts flew to the afternoon when I had been followed home. I did not recognise the man, but that meant little. Half of Paris was watching Albert Price, so it seemed.

  The stranger stood by the gate for a long time. He was no tramp or urchin. He took a final glance at the house and the courtyard, and then sauntered down the Rue Belle.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Champillon said he would send Gerard each evening, but when I looked out the kitchen window the following morning, I saw the small boy by the gate of the Rue Belle. I wiped my hands on a cloth and ran out to meet him.

  “M’sieur Champillon says come to the café at noon today,” Gerard said through the railings.

  “Today? But I met him yesterday.”

  “He said come today,” Gerard ordered, then scampered down the street.

  Did Champillon not have time to write a note? Or was the boy wrong? I was annoyed as I made my way through the streets at noon. When I entered the café however, I saw Champillon at his usual table.

  “Things have got worse,” Champillon said, “The banker Julius Hoffmann is obtaining a warrant for Price’s arrest.”

  “Arrest?”

  “Hoffmann wants Price arrested and his laboratory impounded. Even the King and the Court would not be above this.”

  “They cannot arrest Price!”

  “They can and they will.”

  A wave of unease swept over me. My heart heaved in my chest and my head was dizzy. The walls of the garden house were packed with chemicals and the cellar was full of priceless elixirs. Price had so many experiments that he did at times seem to be hurtling to the disaster he feared. I pressed my palms to the table.

  “Then I must tell him at once.”

  “No. I will try to delay the issue of the warrant. My friends at the Academy will pretend that Price is a charlatan. He is such a shadowy character in Paris, many do not think he even exists. No one knows that he is in the Rue Belle, besides my household.”

  “A man followed me to the Rue Belle two days ago. He did not see me enter the house. I led him away. But last night, someone was outside the gates. He was watching the house.”

  Champillon looked genuinely worried, “Then maybe the bankers know more than we think. Return to the house, and report to me tomorrow morning when Gerard comes.”

  “Yes, Monsieur.”

  “I will find out who has charge of the warrant,” Champillon rose from the table, tugging the fine lace cuffs around his wrists, “Let us go now.”

  I ran as fast as I could to the Rue Belle.

  Sunlight trickled through the late summer treetops as I unlocked the gate. The garden looked so tranquil, it was impossible to believe any danger could lurk here.

  Price had shown me how to open the metal bolt on the garden house door. I furrowed my brow as I remembered his instructions. I tried once and the mechanical teeth hissed and tightened. I tried again and the bar exhaled and rose like magic. The door fell open.

  I had never been in the laboratory during the day. The liquids bubbled and the mercury spluttered as I made my way through the darkened curtains. As I suspected, Price’s living quarters were in the laboratory. He had made his home at the back of the minstrel’s gallery that ran along one wall of the garden house.

  Price was lying on his bed. He was like a marble statue. The elixir had made every part of him glow, down to the sheen of his rich hair and his thick eyelashes. As he breathed in and out, deep in sleep, there was a brightness in his skin, as though particles were traveling right below its
surface.

  “Monsieur,” I pressed his shoulder.

  His eyelids fluttered.

  “Monsieur!” I pressed him again.

  “Elise,” he smiled.

  “There is danger coming. Do you know a man called Julius Hoffmann?”

  “Yes,” he passed a hand over his eyes sleepily.

  “Did you refuse to work for him?”

  The smile disappeared, “Yes. I had enough gold to finance my laboratory. Why do you ask, Elise?”

  “He is getting a warrant for your arrest.”

  Price staggered to his feet, “Where did you hear this?”

  For a moment my mind was blank. I had concealed my thoughts from Champillon and now I had to make up lies for Price too.

  “At the apothecary,” I stuttered, hoping he would not ask more.

  “Do you know when this will happen?”

  “The warrant has not been issued but it is underway.”

  “Then it is over,” he said. Price raked his hands through his hair. He spun around the room, like a trapped animal, “It was all but a dream and now the nightmare starts again.”

  “No! It is not over but you cannot stay here.”

  “Where can I go?” he stared ahead.

  “Anywhere but the Rue Belle!”

  Price was talking to himself, “Rome perhaps, but my acquaintances there will be old now, perhaps dead. I am so tired of fleeing.”

  “But you have to go somewhere!”

  “Where was the place you grew up, Elise?”

  “Reveille.”

  “Reveille means dream. Is it true to its name?”

  “It is beautiful, sir. The river winds through the valley. The town is small and surrounded by fields and forests. You can walk for miles without seeing a house or barn. There is a monastery nearby and a walled garden, where they grow the herbs for medicines.”

  “Would you like to see this place again, Elise?”

  “More than anything.”

  “Then let us get ready. If the warrant isn’t issued, we have at least tomorrow and the day after. There may even be time to dismantle the machine. We will go to Reveille,” Price stopped. Colour rose in his cheeks, “If of course, you wish to join me.”

  I was so overwhelmed, I had almost forgotten to breath.

  “Will you join me, Elise?”

  In the last hour, fear had replaced all other feelings in my heart. But now those other feelings - hope, elation, excitement - rushed in again.

  “Of course!”

  Price picked me up by the waist, swirling me around the room. He was stronger than I realised.

  “When we get away from here, we will decide how we will live. You can be my assistant, my muse or my wife. Fleeing always fills me with dread. But with you by my side, I have hope.”

  He hugged me and planted a kiss on my cheek. I put my arms around his neck as he swirled me around again. He put me down and we stared at each other, neither sure what to say.

  “Come on, Elise. We have much to do.”

  The rest of the day we threw ourselves into preparations. Price began packing away his equipment, while I placed all the books and scrolls in the study into one of Price’s traveling cases. I was about to pack the last picture, the one of the pyramid, when I saw Gerard, Champillon’s servant boy, standing by the front gate.

  I ran down the stairs quickly and crossed the courtyard. The door to the garden house was closed. Anxious that Price would not hear us, I dropped my voice to a whisper.

  “What is it, Gerard?”

  “Monsieur Champillon wants to see you, Elise.”

  My heart skipped a beat, “Is he here?”

  “He is at home. He asked me to take you there.”

  “Wait,” I said, as my mind spun. If I did not go, Champillon might come to the Rue Belle. If I did go, Price might become suspicious. I ran across to the garden house.

  Price looked up from his vials with an absent smile, “All is well, Elise?”

  “I must go out - to the market,” as Price did not eat, he would not know what food we needed.

  “Good idea. I need some sodium to stabilise these potions. Can you get some from the apothecary?”

  “Certainly.”

  “Elise,” he said as I turned away, “Make sure you take some coin.”

  I grabbed the gold that was lying on the table.

  “This is the salt I need,” he handed me a note, “You are breathing too fast. There is no need to worry. We have plenty of time.”

  I tried to smile. Little did Price realise the tightrope on which I was walking.

  Gerard was waiting in the lane. We darted like sparrows through the city.

  Paris had never looked more beautiful than on that last run through the city. I had forgotten the squalor and smells of the narrow streets now and saw only the grandeur of the rooftops against the sky. Gerard guided me out of Le Marais and along the broad boulevards near the Louvre Palace. We ran through arcades and before churches, past statues and under stone carvings. We passed the scaffolds and skeletons of the new Paris that was being built. We saw sudden vistas of the Seine and the hills above the city. The clouds rolled out majestically across the sky. I had no idea why I thought this city frightening when the carriage had first rolled through the city gates. Paris was my city now and I knew all its lanes and colonnades and bridges.

  “Keep running!” Gerard said. He was the fastest boy I had ever met.

  Our footsteps eventually slowed as we reached a grand and somber neighbourhood. High windows and turrets and balconies looked down upon us. Gerard led me to a stone arch. I realised this was the gateway to a house.

  Champillon’s house was grander than any I had seen in Paris. Gerard and I crossed a courtyard. A maid opened the door and ushered us inside.

  “Monsieur Champillon is waiting in his study,” she said sternly. She had the quizzical and polite look of Madame Bourget. Champillon’s staff must indeed wonder about the goings-on in the household of the mysterious Albert Price.

  I followed the maid along a corridor. Tall windows looked over a green garden. This was the house where Sister Agatha assumed I would live, all those months ago. How different my life might have been if I had been one of Champillon’s maids, going about my daily duties. I might have peeled potatoes in the kitchen or polished the gilt frames of the mirrors. My only concern might have been the temperature of the ovens or a misplaced napkin. But I was not like the girl beside me, who probably knew nothing of nature or medicine. It was my skills that had caught Champillon’s attention in Reveille. It was that knowledge that led me to being here today.

  We stood before a set of tall white doors trimmed with gold. The maid frowned and gave me a curious glance. She knocked rapidly.

  “Come in,” I heard Champillon’s voice and the maid opened the door.

  I had only a moment to glance over the high ceiling, fine rugs and polished cabinets. I made my way past a globe of the world, several marble statues and many Egyptian artifacts.

  At the far end of the room, Champillon was writing at a desk, “Come here, Elise,” he dipped his pen in an inkpot without looking up, “Things are moving faster than I anticipated. The warrant may be signed tomorrow. I am doing all I can to delay it.”

  “Tomorrow?”

  “Yes, so I need to know what is in that laboratory.”

  “Tomorrow? Then we have less a day.”

  “That is correct, Elise.”

  I felt like I was going to faint. I fought back a dizziness that threatened to engulf me. I pressed my fingers to my temples.

  “Why do you need to know what is in the laboratory?”

  “Because, Elise,” Champillon blotted the letter and rose from his seat, “The bankers are coming not just for Price but for all his secrets, his books and his laboratory. Tell me what is there.”

  The ground moved under my feet. My throat was dry, “I believe there is a gold-making machine, sir.”

  “Yes. And the engine. A large vat
of mercury too.”

  “And potions. Lots of potions in pans and pots. And shelves of chemicals and powders.”

  “I have made here a list of the powders you fetched for Price. Is this correct?”

  I read Champillon’s notes and nodded.

  “Have you seen scrolls?”

  “In his study, yes.”

  “Books?”

  “He has many ancient books.”

  “We must not let the books fall into the bankers’ hands.”

  “What will you do?”

  “I will arrange for the laboratory to be taken to a safe place.”

  The room was swimming again, “Where will you take it, sir?”

  “To friends of the Academy. I need you to deliver this letter at once. I believe you have been to the house before. It is in Saint-Germain. It is time the Academy visited Price.”

  The paper he handed me was stark white, with a red wax seal and gold crest. The last time I had seen that crest was on the letter Champillon had sent to Sister Agatha. It filled me with dread again.

  “Do you know the house?”

  “The gentleman with the geometric garden and the Egyptian statues.”

  “That is the place. Hurry, it’s getting late. Go straight to Saint-Germain now. It will take time to arrange carts to transport the laboratory.”

  “When will you come to the Rue Belle?”

  “I will be there with the other members of the Academy at eight o’clock tomorrow evening. We will be safely away before the police arrive.”

  I began to think fast. Would Price be ready to go before then? If Champillon was coming at eight, we would have to be gone by seven.

  Champillon was pacing the room, “One more thing, Elise - is there anything volatile in the laboratory?”

  I closed my eyes, “There is a red powder. It is highly explosive.”

  “Where is it kept?”

  My mind raced. I could not let Champillon know what I had seen, “On a shelf on the right of the laboratory. I saw Price carry it there one night.”

  “Iron red?”

  “Brighter than that. It is kept in a square jar. I believe the alchemists keep it as their last defense.”

  I was surprised at my own words. But I could not let Champillon accidentally destroy Price’s work. If the Academy or the bankers rushed in, unsettling that powder could destroy everything.