Page:Cerise, a tale of the last century (IA cerisetaleoflast00whytrich).pdf/69

 of distinction, but there was an expression of intellect and energy in his dark beetle-browed face, with its restless black eyes, that, in spite of low stature and ungainly make, redeemed him from the imputation of utter vulgarity.

His hands, too (and there is a good deal of character in the hand), were strong, nervous, and exceedingly well-shaped, though sadly stained and scorched by the acids he made use of in the prosecution of his art.

A less keen observer than the Abbé might not have remarked beneath the signor's cordial greeting symptoms of anxiety, and even apprehension, blended with something of the passive defiance which seems to say, "I am in a corner. I have no escape. I don't like it; but I must make the best of it."

A less keen observer, too, might not have detected a ring of bravado in the tone with which he accosted his visitor as a disciple and fellow-labourer in the cause of science.

"Welcome, monsieur," said he—"welcome to the teacher who needs the assistance of his pupil every step he travels on the radiant path. Have you made discoveries, Monsieur l'Abbé? Fill your glass, and impart them. Have you encountered difficulties?—Fill your glass, and conquer them. Have you seen the true light glimmering far, far off across the black waters?—Fill your glass, I say, and let us drink success to our voyage ere we embark once more in search of the Great Secret."

"Faith, I believe we're nearer it than you think for, Bartoletti," answered Malletort, smiling coldly; "though I doubt if you could look to the right point of the compass for it with all your geography. What do you think of the Scotchman's banking scheme, my gold-seeking friend? Is not Monsieur Las a better alchemist than either of us? Has he not discovered the Great Arcanum? And without fire or bellows, crucible, alembic, or retort? Why, the best of us have used up every metal that the earth produces without arriving—though I grant you we have come very near it—yet without arriving at perfection; and here's an Englishman only asks for a ton or so of paper, a Govern-*