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Updated: June 27, 2025
And having thus spoken, M. d'Asterac pushed us inside the pavilion, where between MSS. strewn all round was seated in a large arm-chair an old man with piercing eyes, a hooked nose, and a couple of thin streams of white beard growing from a receding chin; a velvet cap, formed like an imperial crown, covered his bald skull, and his body, of an inhuman emaciation, was wrapped up in an old gown of yellow silk, resplendent but dirty.
M. d'Asterac, who opened the door, stood quietly before us. His long black figure seemed to be enveloped in flaming air. He asked quietly on what pressing business we were looking for him at so late an hour. There was no conflagration but a terrible fire, burning in a big furnace with reflectors, which as I have since learned are called athanors.
True, we only know the minor part of the universe, and it is quite possible, as M. d'Asterac says who is a bit of a fool that this earth is no more than a spot of mud in the infinity of worlds. Maybe the astronomer Copernicus was not altogether dreaming when he taught that, mathematically, the earth is not the centre of creation.
Perhaps she'll love someone else, and bestow on him the same caresses as she gave to me." The idea of such an infidelity became unbearable. But as the world goes, one has to be ready for anything. "My son," M. d'Asterac began to say again, "you do not sufficiently feed the athanor.
M. d'Asterac, believing that I had passed the night at the cookshop, kindly inquired after my parents, and, as he could not abstract himself for a single moment from his visions, said: "When I speak of that cook as being your father it is quite understood that I express myself in a worldly sense, and not according to nature. Nothing proves, my son, that you have not been begot by a Sylph.
At the bottom of the small wooden bowl lay five or six little diamonds, of which M. d'Asterac made no mention. My tutor asked him if they also were of his make, and, the alchemist having acknowledged it: "Sir," said the abbe, "I should counsel you to show the curious those diamonds prior to the other stones by way of caution.
While making this speech, M. d'Asterac had turned into the lane of the mandrakes, where we could see Mosaide's cottage, half hidden by foliage, when suddenly an appalling voice burst upon us and made my heart beat faster hoarse sounds, accompanied by a sharp gnashing, and on getting nearer the sounds seemed to be modulated, and each phrase ended in a sort of very feeble melody, which could not be listened to without shuddering.
But it is a fact that in jumping out of her carriage I nearly fell on M. d'Asterac, whose tall figure leant against a tree on the roadside. Courteously I saluted him and showed the surprise I felt at this pleasant encounter. "Chance," he said, "lessens as knowledge grows; for me it is suppressed. I knew, my son, that I had to meet you at this place.
"What!" broke out my good master. "Mosaide has killed a Christian? He is dangerous, my dear Tournebroche. You'll have to come to the same conclusion that I have arrived at myself about this adventure. It is quite certain that his niece is the mistress of M. d'Asterac, whose room she doubtless had just left when I met her on the stairs.
"The thorns count for nothing," said M. d'Asterac, "but I'm afraid, Monsieur l'Abbe, that you have trodden on a mandrake." "Mandrakes," replied the abbe, "are certainly the least of my cares." "You're wrong," said M. d'Asterac. "It suffices to tread on a mandrake to become involved in a love crime, and perish by it miserably."
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