“Wait a few moments longer, my friend,” said the alchemist, still stirring on. “You would not surely have me throw away the labour of years to gratify your selfish object. Just step aside in the meantime into that recess, as I am not quite certain what is about to happen. There may come an explosion, such has occurred before now, and then at the bottom of this crucible I firmly believe that I shall discover the philosopher’s stone. It has never appeared yet, but, once in my possession, I shall leave this cold vault for ever, and emerge into the upper world, to commence the great undertaking I have designed. Stand aside! stand aside! at any moment there may be an explosion.”
The Count at first thought that the wisest plan would be to escape up the stone steps, as he had no wish to be exposed to the effects of the expected explosion; but, curious to see the result, he stepped aside, as the old alchemist advised him, into a recess of the vault. Still the alchemist stirred on, but nothing occurred. The Count was losing patience when he heard the sound of feet descending the steps.
“Here comes my familiar spirit,” muttered the alchemist; “he always does come just when I am about to make my grand discovery.”
“He treads very heavily for a spirit!” thought the Count.
At that moment a remarkable and unattractive-looking person came into the light of the lamp; he was a short, thick-set man, with a huge head, almost a dwarf, dressed in a long coat and high boots, carrying in his hand a kettle.
The alchemist as he saw him started up. “Why have you come? Why hast thou come, thou enemy of science? thou who, night after night, hast prevented me from making the grand discovery, the aim of my existence, thou disturber of my studies, thou foe of the human race!”
“You know well enough, Mynheer Bosch, that what you say is all nonsense, and that I will not allow you to abuse me in this fashion,” exclaimed the dwarf, lifting up the kettle as if he were about to throw it at the philosopher’s head. “Come along, and leave your old bottles and jars; it is high time that you were in bed, and my business is to see you safe there, and to lock you up till to-morrow morning.”
“But I have a visitor,” said the philosopher, calming down, and looking perfectly resigned to his
fate. “A visitor who may become my pupil, and aid me in making my grand discovery, which has, through your interference, been so long delayed.”