Auriol | Page 7

had
not caught at the terrestrial sphere for support.
"Help me -- help me!" he screamed, fixing a glance of unutterable
anguish on his relative.
"It is worth the struggle," cried Auriol. And, by a great effort, he raised
himself, and staggered towards the old man.
"Saved -- saved!" shrieked Darcy. "Pour it down my throat. An instant,
and all will be well."
"Think you I have done this for you?" cried Auriol, snatching the
potion; "no -- no."
And, supporting himself against the furnace, he placed the phial to his
lips, and eagerly drained its contents.
The old man seemed paralysed by the action, but kept his eye fixed
upon the youth till he had drained the elixir to the last drop. He then

uttered a piercing cry, threw up his arm, and fell heavily backwards.
Dead -- dead!
Flashes of light passed before Auriol's eyes, and strange noises smote
his ears. For a moment he was bewildered as with wine, and laughed
and sang discordantly like a madman. Every object reeled and danced
around him. The glass vessels and jars clashed their brittle sides
together, yet remained uninjured; the furnace breathed forth flames and
mephitic vapours; the spiral worm of the alembic became red hot, and
seemed filled with molten lead; the pipe of the bolt-head ran blood; the
sphere of the earth rolled along the floor, and rebounded from the wail
as if impelled by a giant hand; the skeletons grinned and gibbered; so
did the death's-head on the table; so did the skulls against the chimney;
the monstrous sea-fish belched forth fire and smoke; the bald
decapitated head opened its eyes, and fixed them, with a stony glare, on
the young man; while the dead alchemist shook his hand menacingly at
him.
Unable to bear these accumulated horrors, Auriol became, for a short
space, insensible. On recovering, all was still. The lights within the
lamp had expired; but the bright moonlight, streaming through the
window, fell upon the rigid features of the unfortunate alchemist, and
on the cabalistic characters of the open volume beside him. Eager to
test the effect of the elixir, Auriol put his hand to his side. All traces of
the wound were gone; nor did he experience the slightest pain in any
other part of his body. On the contrary, he seemed endowed with
preternatural strength. His breast dilated with rapture, and he longed to
expand his joy in active notion. Striding over the body of his aged
relative, he threw open the window. As he did so joyous peals burst
from surrounding churches, announcing the arrival of the new year.
While listening to this clamour, Auriol gazed at the populous and
picturesque city stretched out before him, and bathed in the moonlight.
"A hundred years hence," he thought, "and scarcely one soul of the
thousands within those houses will be living, save myself. A hundred
years after that, and their children's children will be gone to the grave.
But I shall live on -- shall live through all changes -- all customs -- all

time. What revelations I shall then have to make, if I should dare to
disclose them!"
As he ruminated thus, the skeleton hanging near him was swayed by
the wind, and its bony fingers came in contact with his cheek. A dread
idea was suggested by the occurrence.
"There is one peril to be avoided," he thought; "ONE PERIL! -- what is
it? Pshaw! I will think no more of it. It may never arise. I will be gone.
This place fevers me."
With this, he left the laboratory, and hastily descending the stairs, at the
foot of which he found Flapdragon, passed out of the house.
BOOK THE FIRST -- EBBA
I
THE RUINED HOUSE IN THE VAUXHALL ROAD
One night, in the spring of 1830, two men issued from a low, obscurely
situated public-house, near Millbank, and shaped their course
apparently in the direction of Vauxhall-bridge. Avoiding the footpath
near the river, they moved stealthily along the further side of the road,
where the open ground offered them an easy means of flight, in case
such a course should he found expedient. So far as it could be discerned
by the glimpses of the moon, which occasionally shone forth from a
rack of heavy clouds, the appearance of these personages was not much
in their favour. Haggard features, stamped deeply with the characters of
crime and debauchery; fierce, restless eyes; beards of several days'
growth; wild, unkempt heads of hair, formed their chief personal
characteristics; while sordid and ragged clothes; shoes without soles;
and old hats without crowns, constituted the sum of their apparel.
One of them was tall and gaunt, with large hands and feet; but despite
his meagreness, he evidently possessed great strength: the other