The Alchemist of Paris

by M C Dulac

  “Good,” Champillon sighed heavily, “Then all is in order.”

  “All is in order,” I said drily.

  “Do you understand, Elise?”

  “Yes, the Academy will capture Price.”

  Champillon’s tone softened, “The Academy does not capture people, Elise. Price will be our guest, as he should have been as soon as he arrived in Paris. The alternative is far worse for Price, Elise.”

  “Why do you have such an interest in him, Monsieur Champillon?”

  I was aware Champillon was placing himself in great danger by helping Price. He was defying the bankers and the law. I had always thought of him as arrogant and self-absorbed, but his actions now surprised me.

  Champillon spoke humbly, “Perhaps I understand Price. I saw the look in his eye in Alexandria when he discovered the scrolls. It was the look of a true adventurer. Price has many faults but in his pursuit of knowledge, he is a great man.”

  We were silent for a moment.

  “You are right, Monsieur.”

  “Now run, Elise!”

  When I stood on the steps of the house, I stared at the letter again. I could not deliver it. Price said neither the bankers or the Academy could be trusted. Nor could I really trust Champillon.

  Price and I had less than one day to escape Paris.

  Chapter Fourteen

  My breath came in gasps by the time I reached the laboratory. I had run all the way back to the Rue Belle.

  Price was standing among the open crates. Less than half the laboratory had been packed away. How long would it take to pack the rest? How could I tell Price to hurry up without making him suspicious? He had no idea how every moment mattered now. We were in greater danger than ever before.

  “Did you get the salt, Elise?”

  I put my fingertips to my temples, “I forgot, Monsieur.” I must warn him that the bankers were coming. I thought fast, amazed at my acting skills, “The warrant is being prepared. I overheard people talking in the market.”

  “Who did you overhear?”

  “Police I believe. The bankers are coming tomorrow night.”

  “When?”

  “We must be gone by seven o’clock.”

  Price ran his hand over his face, “Then we have less time than I thought. The elixirs will be too unstable to move without the salt. Would you go out again, Elise?”

  “Of course,” I said.

  “Go to the apothecary in Le Marais. Their salt is always good quality,” he ran to his desk, “And then go to the sign of the Three Mice and hand this letter to Madame Jarvin.”

  “The sign of the Three Mice?”

  “It is a shop in Le Marais. Madame Jarvin is the wife of my carriage driver. Jarvin knows to come when I ask and not ask questions. I will tell him to prepare a cart, so that I can move part of the laboratory tonight and the remainder when the elixirs are stable.”

  Price folded the paper and pressed it with a wax seal, “Here. And take this,” he filled a pouch with gold coins, “Jarvin may need persuading.”

  I slipped both notes into my dress.

  Price placed his hand on my shoulder, “Now run, Elise!”

  I ran through the streets to Le Marais. I came upon the sign of the Three Mice suddenly. The shop smelt of onions when I opened the door. A stout woman stood behind the counter.

  “Madame Jarvin? I have a note for you from my master. You must give it to your husband straightaway.”

  Madame Jarvin opened the letter without speaking, “Monsieur Albert Price,” she said slowly, “So he wants the cart this evening,” Madame Jarvin shook her head, “And so late.”

  “Monsieur Price has given me this coin.”

  Madame Jarvin peered into the bag, and gave me a shrewd look, “You look very young and innocent to be involved with such a character. I do not know what sort of devil Price is, but we would all be wise to stay away from him.”

  I was out of breath from running. My whole body swayed. I did not expect that after all the dangers I had faced, our plans would be thwarted by this grim, disapproving woman.

  Then Madame Jarvin shrugged and said in her slow drawl, “All right, I will tell my husband. He will be there tonight as your Monsieur Price requests.”

  I broke into a smile. Madame Jarvin smiled grudgingly in return. I closed the door with a bang and ran on through the streets. The city with its grey houses and hidden passages, wandering people and meandering carts, was an endless maze. I longed for fields and open country.

  I reached the apothecary. The owner was closing up, but unlocked the door when he saw me. I asked for the salt and he went into the back room.

  “I only have one bottle,” he said, “The mines in the Alps have been flooded. I should have a new shipment by the end of next week.”

  “The end of the week?”

  “Yes. I have other salt, if Price wants it.”

  In all the time I had been in Paris, I had always been able to get whatever Price needed. I could not believe that there was a delay now. I was feeling dizzy again. I placed my hands on the bench to steady myself.

  The apothecary was unaware of my distress. He wandered around peering in his shelves. Why was everyone moving so slowly this afternoon?

  “Of course, some other shops may have some in stock. But the floods have affected everyone’s supplies.”

  “Thank you, Monsieur. I will take all that you have.”

  I left the shop and ran to the apothecary at the end of the street, but found it closed. It was nearing dark when I returned to the Rue Belle. The salts I had purchased were frothing in the bottle.

  I explained the shortage when I gave the bottle to Price.

  “Floods!” Price declared, “That has not happened for a hundred years. But this is better than nothing. Do not worry, Elise, we can search for sodium again tomorrow. Have something to eat and rest.”

  I took Price’s advice for I was thoroughly exhausted.

  * * * * *

  I must have fallen asleep, for when I woke, the sky was dark. When I looked out of my window, there was a cart in the courtyard. Price and another man were carrying a crate across the yard. The man was thin and bent like a blade of wheat, and I assumed he was the long-suffering husband of Madame Jarvin.

  Price and Jarvin carried part of the engine to the cart. When there was no more room in the cart, Jarvin put on his cap, climbed onto his seat, circled the fountain and drove off into the night.

  Price paced across the yard. He wore a loose white shirt with the sleeves rolled up. He returned to the garden house and I heard more bangs and clangs.

  My head was heavy. Crushed by the spectre of all we faced, I returned to bed, and fell into a deep sleep. I had to be bright and alert for our last day in Paris.

  * * * * *

  The next morning, the garden house door was closed. I supposed Price was asleep. He had looked very drawn the previous evening, and he needed some sort of rest, even if he was immortal. I would use these hours to go on my errands, finding every last speck of the special salt in Paris.

  I frowned as I saw Gerard, the servant boy, tossing stones against the wall below. He had begun to rattle the gate when I crossed the courtyard.

  I hushed him.

  “I have errands to run,” the boy said, sternly, “I can’t wait here all day.”

  “Why have you come?”

  “Monsieur Champillon said to give you this.”

  Gerard pushed a note through the railings. With his task done, he raced down the street.

  I held the note close to me as I returned to the house. I broke Champillon’s seal, and read the message with a pounding heart.

  “The bankers and the police are coming to the Rue Belle this evening, nine o’clock. I confirm I will be there at eight with the men from the Academy. Do not let Price suspect anything. Ensure he is home.

  Burn this note.

  J-L C”

  I lit an Argand lamp and dipped the letter into the tongue of flame, dropping the b
lackened paper into the fireplace.

  The time of our reckoning had been set. But at eight o’clock that evening, Champillon and the Academy would find an empty house. Price and I would be safely out of Paris by then.

  I locked the gate and set off on my final errand.

  On the Île de la Cité, the grimy-faced men in the strange shop gave me their last bottle of the salt. The fine shop on the Pont au Change had a small quantity, which they wrapped with a ribbon. The apothecary in the Rue de Rivoli had two bottles and the shop near the church in Saint-Germain des Prés gave me another. The girl who loved Pierre had none of the salt in stock. I told her that Pierre had indeed gone away forever. A tear welled in her eye. She had a broken heart, but that would mend in time.

  I saw the soaring buttresses and gargoyles of Notre Dame as I crossed the river. I would come back here, one day, when all this was behind me.

  I did not return to the Rue Belle until mid-afternoon. The garden house door was ajar. Inside, the curtains were gone and the tables were bare. The engine stood by silently like a hollow beetle.

  Price had placed all the remaining elixirs on the table.

  “I have salt,” I said, taking all the bottles from my basket.

  “Well done, Elise. Is there any of this salt left in Paris?”

  “Probably not,” I smiled.

  Price opened a bottle and immediately began measuring out the salt, “It will take several hours to settle the potions. Jarvin will be here with his cart at half past seven.”

  “Half past seven? I thought we were leaving at seven.”

  “The potions will not be ready.”

  I pushed away my fears. Half past seven. Was that too late? Champillon and the Academy were coming to the Rue Belle at eight. I felt the sweat bead on my forehead. I must not panic.

  “What if Jarvin is late?”

  “Jarvin is never late. His wife makes sure of that,” Price smiled. There were dark circles beneath his eyes, which gave him a haunted but romantic look, “Of all my escapes, this is the most orderly. I will leave Paris with my debts paid and my affairs in order. Jarvin is delivering a letter to my landlord as we speak.”

  My blood ran cold, “You have written to your landlord?”

  “To my landlord’s lawyer, the man who approached me about the house at the beginning of the year. I have not met my landlord in person.”

  “What does the letter say?”

  “That I am leaving Paris. And I have given the landlord a very substantial payment, to compensate for breaking my lease.”

  I hoped dearly that Champillon would not see the letter until after we had gone.

  Price went on, “Jarvin took two sets of crates last night. When he arrives tonight, we can pack the elixirs and destroy any which are not ready. We will leave with Jarvin on the cart and then change to a carriage at an inn on the edge of Paris.”

  I had not thought beyond the next hour. I stared into the future Price described, trying to imagine it.

  “Elise. Do not look so concerned. You have done a superb job. Go to the house and rest until we leave.”

  “I cannot sleep now. What else can I do to help?”

  Price raked his hands through his hair as he looked around, “I may have some coats in the study. Why don’t you go and see?”

  He was humouring me, but I was glad to be away from the laboratory. I knew I could never rest until we were safely away. The strain of concealing my secrets from Price was too great.

  I returned to the house and ascended the grand staircase. I remembered that first night with Madame Bourget, when we had wandered about the rooms in candlelight. I had sensed something unusual about this house. The floors were polished and the furniture shone, but the house was like a stage. I was right, for behind the stage was the real drama. Price was in the wings, operating the machinery and creating the illusions. I had gone from a player on the stage to a conspirator behind the scenes.

  The illustration of Ancient Egypt was still hanging on the wall of the study. I told myself I must not forget to take the picture with us.

  I opened the wardrobe and began to take out Price’s coats.

  I had not thought what my life would be like, now I had agreed to leave with Price. Where were we going? How would we support ourselves, except with that pile of forged gold? Had Price really lived like this for so long?

  My misgivings increased as I looked at the coats. Price had the outfits of a Parisian gentleman, all new, all spotless. He had nothing more than a few years old. Did he discard his past so easily? Did he reinvent himself every few years, to become the perfect example of his times? But then, if he had kept all he had once owned, what would a wardrobe of three hundred years look like?

  And if I joined Price, who knew what new clothes and identity I would assume?

  I sunk down on the chair.

  What was I doing? I had changed my purpose so many times, even I did not know what I wanted. Price was an alchemist and I was aiding his escape. I was about to flee with him. I was giving up any chance of returning to a normal life.

  What grand cities would we see and strange lands would we visit? What if he grew tired of me and regretted his invitation? Would my questions about our future add to his worry? He had survived so long on his own. If you had eternal youth and immortality, would you want a mere mortal companion?

  One thing was clear. I must do everything I could to help him get away from Paris. I could not let him be captured by the Academy or by the bankers. The modern world was as unready for alchemy as any time before it. The arrogance of the scientists of our age might be worse. The men of today did not have the humility to beware the dragon, the fiery beast, of the alchemical texts. Instead of realising the dangers of Anubis’ fire, they might greedily seek its creation.

  I could not see far ahead of me, but I knew what I was doing was right.

  I carried the packing case down the stairs and across the courtyard. The door to the garden house was open and I placed the case with the other crates in the laboratory, ready for Jarvin to collect. Price was nowhere about. I looked for him behind the machine and on the minstrels’ gallery. I opened the door of the cellar and peered inside. Concerned that he might have gone out on business again, I returned to the courtyard.

  I gazed across the garden, aware of a figure beneath the trees. Price was sitting behind the fountain.

  Here, under the tree branches and beneath the line of houses, the shadows were as dim as twilight. The fountain bubbled quietly and the rose bushes rippled in the breeze.

  Even with circles under his eyes and his shirtsleeves rolled up, Price looked perfect. The elixir gave him not only youth but an unworldly handsomeness. With his head bowed, he looked like a marble statue. I did not want to disturb his thoughts but the garden house door creaked behind me. Price’s eyes lit up and he smiled.

  There was an orange glow in the distance as the late summer sun burned over Paris.

  “Sit down next to me, Elise,” he beckoned.

  I crossed the cobblestones and sat on the stone bench, “Monsieur -”

  “Elise, call me Albert.”

  I swallowed as I asked the question I dreaded.

  “Albert,” I said, getting used to saying his name, “Are you sure you want me to come with you?”

  “Of course,” he looked concerned, “Do you want to come with me?”

  “Yes. Of course. I think so,” I answered.

  “I know that the life I offer is unusual. I have no right to ask you to join me.”

  A frown wrinkled his smooth brow. I chewed my lip. I thought through my doubts and tried to see ahead. Despite it all, I knew the answer.

  “I do want to. I have never wanted anything so much,” my words surprised me, but they were true. How could I resist Price - his handsome looks, his secrets, his dedication to the Great Work? I had longed to discover nature’s mysteries since I had tended the herbs in the gardens at Reveille. I had longed for a greater purpose ever since I had stood b
efore the statues of the saints. I realised I had at last found my calling. And - Price.

  “I do want to join you,” I said firmly.

  Price broke into a broad smile. Then he leaned forward and kissed me.

  If I had any doubts at all, they were all gone now. What would Sister Agatha think!

  Price smiled, “I can face anything, now you are with me.”

  Price held my hand as we sat in the shadows of the late afternoon. This should have been the happiest moment of my life. But I would be happier when we were far away.

  I ran through my plans again.

  All his possessions were packed. I had given Price warning and arranged our safe passage out of the city. In a few hours we would be far away from Paris.

  My future was uncertain but my conscience was clear.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Never had there been a more important hour in my life than seven thirty that evening. All I wanted was for Jarvin to arrive with his cart and for Price and myself to be as far away from Paris as possible. Every time I passed one of the fine rooms, I glimpsed a clock on the mantelpiece or on the wall. And each time, the minutes until that hour seemed endless.

  I remember the evening was strangely quiet. There was no wind at all. The leaves of the huge plane tree which rustled day and night, were still. The Rue Belle was deserted and even the murmurs of the city ceased.

  I lit the lamps as always, as I did not want to arouse any suspicion. But when I reached the front hall, I had the strange feeling I was not alone.

  Footsteps were coming across the front yard. I listened with a pounding heart. They came up the steps and paused near the front door. I heard a key in the lock and the handle turned.

  I was frozen with fear. I could not speak or move. Price was in the laboratory. Who then was about to enter the house?

  The door opened. A tall figure stood silhouetted in the doorway, peering into the darkness.