Then the Master took down from a shelf the philosopher’s stone, an object no larger than a small bird, and of texture and colour similar to what we call fireclay, but of a slightly yellower tint; its shape resembled the shape of the lumps of pumice we use. This he took to his lectern and put down beside the book, but before lecturing upon its use he explained to Ramon Alonzo that many had sought it, as the world knew; and many had found it, as the world knew not. With this the philosophers made gold by touching certain metals, upon which he would afterwards discourse, in a certain manner, which he would later explain; and when they had done with the gold they usually buried it in the extremes of Africa, or in a continent that there was to the south, or in other places beyond the possessions of Spain, so that the object of their experiments should not corrupt men. He then discoursed on the power of gold to corrupt the unlearned; but this Ramon Alonzo had already studied in the school of the good fathers, so he let his thoughts roam far from the gloomy house, whither his body had not gone since first he had entered it so many days ago. He thought of the village of Aragona, its flowers, its merry houses, the trees with their deep-leaved branches bending over its happy lanes, and its simple mortal people following their earthly callings. So that soon he had planned to see that world again, with its sunlight, movement, and voices, of which he had only known for some days now through the black letters of books.
As the magician ended his lecture on the corrupting power of gold the young man through force of habit murmured Amen. The magician stepped sideways, and made, swift as a parry, a sign to guard himself that was not the sign of the Cross. And then Ramon Alonzo felt again that confusion that had troubled him once when he inadvertently swore, while the Bishop of Salamanca rode near on his mule. The bishop had not heard him and all had been well.
The brief silence was broken by the Master of the Art, who said: “Tomorrow I will discourse on those metals, whose structure most nearly resembling the structure of gold, are therefore most adaptable to the changes of transmutation.”
“Master,” said Ramon Alonzo, “I pray you to give me half a holiday.”
“For what purpose?” asked the magician.
“To see the world,” said Ramon Alonzo, “as far as Aragona.”
“There is nothing,” replied the magician, “to be learned in the world that is not taught in this house. Moreover there is no error in this wood; but fare beyond it and you shall meet much error, to the confusion of true learning.”
“All error that I meet beyond the wood I hope to correct by your teaching,” said Ramon Alonzo.
The ancient mind of the magician, perpetually refreshed through the ages, and stored with wisdom that few have time to acquire, perceived the ring of mere flattery in this statement, and yet he was not immune from this earthly seduction. He let Ramon Alonzo go.
“Go in the morning,” he said, “and be back before the sun is westering.”
Ramon Alonzo rejoiced. But the magician only cared that he had got the young man’s shadow. For his power was chiefly over shadowy things, and he lusted for shadows as others lust for the substance, having learned by ages of learning the utter vanity of substantial things. And he counted the secret of gold well yielded up in exchange for a shadow; for he knew how men set their hearts and hopes on gold, and how it failed them, and wot well that these hopes could not be built on a shadow.
And Ramon Alonzo went, light of heart, to find the charwoman, to let her see how little, as he supposed, he had lost by giving away his shadow. The magician returned to his box and took all his shadows out, and enjoyed amongst them awhile that absolute power that ancient monarchs had, who had no laws to control them or hostile neighbours to fear.
And while the magician was revelling in his power, in the quiet and gloom of his room, Ramon Alonzo, guided by his more human sympathies, was telling the charwoman that he had seen the shadow-box, and knew where it lay in the cobwebs behind a crocodile, and hoped somehow to coax it open and rescue her shadow. While she sighed and shook her head he walked often up and down before a window so that she saw the shadow, and could see she never suspected the price he had paid for the sight he had had of the shadow-box. And he, as he saw that perfect copy running so nimbly behind him, believed with the blindness of youth that he had paid nothing.
VIII
Ramon Alonzo Shares the Idleness of the Maidens of Aragona
Next morning Ramon Alonzo descended blithely the steps of timber and stone, and soon he was listening to the magician’s lecture with his thoughts away in the village of Aragona. The magician explained that there was but one element, of which all material things were composed, but that the fragments of
