by M C Dulac
“Does it surprise you that I have a key to my own house?” Champillon said, as he strode into the hall. He gave me his hat as he slid off his cloak, “Haven’t you lit the rooms as I instructed? Quickly, light the drawing room. I can hardly see in here.”
The blood drained from my face. Champillon was early. Why had he come by himself, and not with the Academy, as he had told me he would, at eight o’clock?
“The candles, Elise,” Champillon repeated.
I calmly raised the taper and lit the candles at the edge of the room. When I lit the Argand lamps, the room glowed with golden light. All the time, I was wondering how I could get Champillon to leave, before Price came into the house.
“Bring me something to drink and tell your master that I am here to see him.”
“My master?”
“Price, Elise. And do not look me in the eye when you speak,” Champillon said, “You no longer behave like a servant. Remember your place here.”
“Of course, Monsieur.”
“You should curtsey when you speak to your superiors. This independence of yours has been growing.”
“Surely you have encouraged it, sir.”
Champillon raised an eyebrow and stalked toward the window.
Could I lie? If Price stayed in the laboratory, I might be able to persuade Champillon that Price was not at home and that he should come back later.
But before I could act, I heard footsteps in the hall.
“Elise, is there someone there?” Price appeared in the doorway. When he saw Champillon, he nodded politely, “Good evening, Monsieur.”
“It is you, Price,” Champillon said with awe, “It is all true.”
Champillon and Price, the two men who controlled my destiny, came face to face at last. I stood at the edge of the room, watching as Champillon and Price circled each other.
“You must excuse me, for I do not believe I know you.”
“Price, it is me. Do you not remember?”
“I have been to many places, over the years. Perhaps, Monsieur, you could remind me of where we met?”
“My name is Jean-Louis Champillon. I accompanied you in Alexandria, twenty years ago, when you searched the city for ancient scrolls.”
Price’s smooth brow wrinkled, “Jean-Louis Champillon. Indeed it is you.”
“It is me grown old. But you are not a day older. I did not think that there would come a day when I would lose the strength and brightness the young take for granted. I never thought that we would meet again and that you would taunt me with the memory of all I have lost.”
“You are not old, Champillon,” Price sighed.
“You say that because you don’t know what age is. You have no grey hair, no lines upon your face. No fear of the future, of decay and decrepitness and all that old age brings.”
“I have fear of the future, Champillon. I have much fear.”
“How is it, Price, that you have discovered the fountain of youth?”
“It is very pleasant to see you again, Champillon, but I must ask, why are you in my drawing room?”
Champillon drew a letter from his pocket, “Because this is my house and my agent advises me you are leaving tonight.”
“You are my landlord,” Price said, “What a coincidence.”
“Nothing is coincidence,” Champillon said, “May I ask where you are going?”
Price was polite, but his eyes were cold, “The country. I have work to do and wish to be settled in for the winter.”
“I would like to learn more about your work some day.”
“I have given your lawyer adequate compensation for ending my lease,” Price’s voice had a hard edge, “Do you require more money, Champillon?”
“I am not here for money,” Champillon said.
“That makes a change,” Price muttered.
“I will not pretend any longer, Price. I knew of your reputation when I offered you this house. It has long been rumoured what you are. You are the living proof of it. Until I saw you with my own eyes, I did not believe that such science was possible.”
Price stood by the fireplace. His scrunched his fist tightly, over and over. It was the only sign he was tense.
“You knew who I was?” he asked flatly.
“Yes, you are Albert Price, the alchemist.”
Price straightened up. He fixed Champillon with a glare, “Be careful what you say, Champillon.”
“For twenty years, I have waited to know if the story you told me in Alexandria was true. Since then I have devoted myself to science and knowledge, but all throughout, I have never forgotten your words. You hold the key to the future.”
“I hold the key to nothing, Champillon.”
“Nothing? Price, you know everything! All my years of worldly study were futile. What I would give to talk to you again.”
“How long have you known I was in Paris?”
“Since you arrived last winter and made enquiries for a house.”
Every muscle in Price’s body had tightened. His eyes darted from side to side like an animal poised to flee.
“You have never approached me. You have never asked me for gold or my secrets. You have never made yourself known to me, until now. Why are you here?”
“I am here to tell you that the Hoffmann family has a warrant for your arrest. They want your books, your knowledge and your laboratory. They will be here within the hour.”
“Within the hour?” I said suddenly. I had been standing at the edge of the room. Champillon had said that the bankers were coming at nine o’clock. I realised I should not have spoken, but this new information sent a chill down my spine.
Champillon cast me a sharp look, “The bankers have convinced the authorities to issue the warrant immediately. I had planned to come later with members of the Academy, to persuade you to join us. Now we do not have time.”
Price swallowed. Under that unnatural glow, he looked ill, “I must destroy everything.”
Champillon stepped forward, “No, Price! To destroy your work is criminal. The Academy will find you a safe hiding space. Let your secrets see the daylight of a new century. Let the scientists and scholars of our age study them.”
“But the elixirs are in the garden house now. I cannot let them be discovered.”
“What elixirs? The elixir of life? Let me see it, Price.”
“Why are you really here, Champillon? To entrap me? To delay me by your talk until the torturers arrive with their chains?”
“Have the sense to know who is helping you. Don’t you realise what I have been doing these last months?”
Champillon cast me an exasperated look. Price noticed and shot me a confused glance.
“Get the drinks, Elise,” Champillon added.
“Sir, I am not aware of where the drinks are kept. We do not have many visitors.”
“In the drinks cabinet in the kitchen,” Champillon snapped.
I ran down the hall and opened the cupboards in the kitchen. I found something in the pantry, which smelt strong and alcoholic. There were so many glasses, I had no idea which ones to use. I did not even know what Champillon wanted to drink or how much to pour. I took the largest glasses and filled them to the brim. With the amber liquid glittering and sloshing in the crystal glasses, I carried the tray through the halls. Approaching the drawing room again, I heard Champillon and Price arguing furiously.
“You cannot keep running from place to place, Price,” Champillon said.
“I know your kind, Champillon. You only want to know my secrets so you can rule the world, even more than you do now. You do not understand that the knowledge I have is sacred. The only way to live is to keep that trust and study the secrets in seclusion.”
“Your gold-making skills are far from secret.”
“I do that only so I can live.”
“Then do not pretend you are noble.”
Price glared as a silence suddenly descended on the room.
Champillon took a drink and swallowed
it whole. He winced and glared at the glass. I feared perhaps I had poured too much.
Price breathed in and out. Slowly a look of calmness came over his face, “Thank you for the warning, Champillon. I will leave Paris now. I would appreciate if you could delay the authorities as much as you can.”
Champillon sighed. He spun around the room in despair, “So you will disappear for another century, avoiding help and friends.”
“I have a true friend now,” Price smiled, “Who will not betray me.”
Price turned to me and smiled, and in that look I saw all that I needed to know. All my doubts about our future were gone. With him by my side, I no longer had any fear.
Champillon glanced from Price to me and back again.
“What?” he spluttered.
“I am leaving Paris and Elise is coming with me. If you would be so kind, we have much to do before our cart arrives.”
“Elise? Elise! What is this nonsense? I never took you for a fool, Elise. Are you to be deluded by his pretty face? He is nothing but a living ghost.”
“You know Champillon, Elise?” Price said.
The many lives and lies I had lived for the last months had now come to an end. It was time to finish the deceit and declare the truth.
“Monsieur Champillon, I thank you for engaging me in this house. I must advise that I am leaving your employ now.”
Champillon had frozen on the spot. His expression was incredulous, “Price? You are leaving with Price?”
“Yes, Monsieur.”
Champillon looked stunned. He controlled everything in his world. Hadn’t he summoned me from the country? Hadn’t he placed me in the house as his maid and spy? Hadn’t I done everything he asked? Now his servant had rebelled. His shoulders sank and he staggered across to the mantelpiece, shaking his head.
“Elise...” he whispered.
Then he raised his eyes.
“So this is your friend, Price. You know so little of human nature. This girl cannot be trusted. She has been spying on you for months. Look, here,” Champillon reached into his cloak, “She has given me all your lists!”
His hand shook with rage and triumph.
Price stared at the papers, with a look of confusion, “That is my writing. You have given him the lists, Elise?”
“I placed Elise in this house to watch you. Each week we have met and she tells me of your movements. We discuss your experiments and the machine you have built in my stables. Elise is loyal to me, Price.”
The lightness in Price’s face dimmed.
“You told him about the engine?”
“You are building a steam engine! I know all about it!” Champillon grinned.
“You have lied to me, Elise,” Price said.
“That is not true! This was before -”
“It does not matter where I go,” Price said, “I will always be hunted and always be betrayed. It ends the same way every time.”
“No, you do not understand!”
“I am going to the laboratory,” Price said, without looking at me.
I tried to follow, but Champillon was ahead of me.
We followed Price across the twilit courtyard. Champillon raced into the laboratory, looking around the room in wonder. Price dragged the crates and tables to the centre of the room.
“I will destroy it all,” Price said, without looking up. The elixirs he had spent months creating were spilling out of their bottles, “Let us prepare for the bonfire.”
“Albert, you must listen!”
“What do you have to say?” he stared at me as though he hated me, “I told you everything. But you are like all the others. You betrayed me, Elise.”
The hate fell away, replaced by confusion. Then it returned, as he smashed the elixirs onto the heap in the centre of the room.
How had it gone so wrong? These months had been like a complicated tapestry. I always thought that it would work out in the end. But now everything had unraveled.
But it was not over yet, I told myself. We had time. Precious time.
“Albert, you must listen. Champillon will help you. He is your only chance now.”
“I have no time for liars,” Price flung a vial onto the heap.
“I never lied. I told the truth that was true at the time.” Even my words confused me. How else could I express the mess I had got into?
“Go to Champillon!” Price roared, “Go back to your master. Liars are the worst of all.”
He smashed a shelf onto the floor, ripped it apart and tossed it onto the growing heap.
“Champillon is not my master! No one is!”
“Be gone!” Price cried, waving toward the door.
I ran outside and stood with my back to the wall, watching the setting sun. I had done this, I told myself. I had made this worse. All my meddling had destroyed everything I cared about. I do not know who I had betrayed in the end. I had tried to do the right thing. But it had ended in ruins.
There was a noise at the gate. I saw several men with lanterns. The phantoms that had followed me across Paris had finally reached the Rue Belle. They had come for us at last.
* * * * *
Champillon was suddenly beside me.
“It is Julius Hoffmann. But there are no guards. He must want to negotiate. Take him into the house, Elise, and I will speak to him. Price, lock your laboratory.”
Price glared at us. He had the scowl of a wounded animal.
I ran across to the gate. The lanterns cast grotesque shadows on the men’s faces. The man in the centre of the group wore a fine coat and was flanked by four taller men. There were no police or soldiers among them.
The man in the centre, the one whom I assumed was Julius Hoffmann, stepped forward.
“It is only a girl,” he peered through the railings, “Girl,” he said, “Let us in at once. We are here to see Albert Price.”
Champillon nodded from the shadows.
I unlocked the gate and the men walked toward the house. They strutted inside, casting an appraising look around the hall, the walls and the ceiling.
“Get your master, girl,” Julius Hoffmann said, as he walked into the drawing room and sat himself down in a brocade armchair.
There were footsteps in the hall. The men’s eyes shot toward the door. I followed their gaze too as I did not know who was coming.
“Monsieur Champillon,” Julius said, disappointed.
“Julius. What a coincidence.”
“Why are you here, Jean-Louis?”
“This is my house. I had stopped by to farewell my tenant. He is leaving Paris, I believe,” I was impressed by Champillon’s cool manner, “Would you like something to drink?”
“I would like to see Albert Price.”
“Alas,” Champillon said loudly, “So would all of Paris. I came here a few minutes ago with the same aim. I am afraid that Monsieur Price is not at home.”
Julius Hoffmann crossed his short legs, “I am sure that we can wait.”
“I believe he may not return until tomorrow. A cart was seen leaving earlier today. He may have left the city already.”
“One could almost believe this Price does not exist,” Julius Hoffmann sighed.
“I have only communicated through letter,” Champillon said, “And have not had the pleasure of meeting him in person.”
“It is strange that he is in your house,” Julius Hoffmann said, “Price is not here, but you are, Champillon.”
Champillon laughed weakly. I noticed a pearl of sweat streak down his face.
“But I am here,” Price said suddenly, appearing in the doorway.
I thought of how Champillon had described Price as a living ghost. For surely that was what he was. His body was animated by the elixir that forbade it from dying. Inside that body was the spirit of a boy born in Switzerland centuries before, who had long outlived his natural span.
And yet, in the glow of the candles, he had an extraordinary presence. His dark rimmed eyes had a determination I had never s
een before, as though he was more than a match for any of the men in the room. His luxuriant hair was free of its tie and gave him a wild and ferocious air.
“Albert Price,” Julius Hoffmann rose from his seat, “It is a pleasure to meet you at last.”
“Gentlemen, I assume you are here to see my laboratory.”
“Your laboratory is here?”
“Of course. Do you not know that I am an alchemist?”
A tall, thin banker clutched his handkerchief, as a murmur went up among the others.
Julius Hoffmann smiled, “That is quite a claim, Monsieur. We have heard it from your own lips. Is it really true?”
“Certainly, sir. Some people think what I do is science, but to others I am a magician, an idea I much prefer,” Price smiled strangely.
He had a tone and manner I had never seen before. He went on, “To entertain you, I can show you gold,” Price scattered some coins on the table, “Life,” he placed a bottle of the elixir next to the gold, “And death,” he smiled as he held up the jar of red powder, “Do not touch these mixtures gentlemen, nor, sir, try to slip the coins into your pocket,” he grinned at Julius Hoffmann, “there is much more in my laboratory. Life I shall leave on the table, so to speak. I will keep death with me,” Price clutched the red bottle, “Death is too dangerous to leave lying about in one’s drawing room.”
“I do not like this, Monsieur Champillon,” I whispered.
“Let us follow him, Elise.”
Price shot us a quick glance. Did he think Champillon and I were conspirators? More pain carved his face. I wished that everyone would leave us, so I could talk to Price alone.
But Price had picked up a candelabra and was leading the bankers through the house and across the courtyard. The bankers were excited as schoolboys. The garden house was unlocked, but Price demonstrated the mechanical beam. They murmured in delight as it rose and fell, seemingly by itself.
“This way, please,” Price smiled.
The bankers laughed and gasped as they saw the half empty laboratory. They grabbed every vial and flask, tube and urn, pot and bottle as though it were made of gold. Two of the men even praised what was left of the engine.
Champillon stayed close to my side as Price weaved among the bankers, encouraging even their most foolish observations.