The Magician | Page 6

account of the physical
perfection which contrasted so astonishingly with the countless
deformities in the study of which his life was spent. But one phrase
escaped him almost against his will.
'The first time I saw her I felt as though a new world had opened to my
ken.'
The divine music of Keats's lines rang through Arthur's remark, and to
the Frenchman's mind gave his passion a romantic note that foreboded

future tragedy. He sought to dispel the cloud which his fancy had cast
upon the most satisfactory of love affairs.
'You are very lucky, my friend. Miss Margaret admires you as much as
you adore her. She is never tired of listening to my prosy stories of
your childhood in Alexandria, and I'm quite sure that she will make you
the most admirable of wives.'
'You can't be more sure than I am,' laughed Arthur.
He looked upon himself as a happy man. He loved Margaret with all
his heart, and he was confident in her great affection for him. It was
impossible that anything should arise to disturb the pleasant life which
they had planned together. His love cast a glamour upon his work, and
his work, by contrast, made love the more entrancing.
'We're going to fix the date of our marriage now,' he said. 'I'm buying
furniture already.'
'I think only English people could have behaved so oddly as you, in
postponing your marriage without reason for two mortal years.'
'You see, Margaret was ten when I first saw her, and only seventeen
when I asked her to marry me. She thought she had reason to be
grateful to me and would have married me there and then. But I knew
she hankered after these two years in Paris, and I didn't feel it was fair
to bind her to me till she had seen at least something of the world. And
she seemed hardly ready for marriage, she was growing still.'
'Did I not say that you were a matter-of-fact young man?' smiled Dr
Porhoët.
'And it's not as if there had been any doubt about our knowing our
minds. We both cared, and we had a long time before us. We could
afford to wait.'
At that moment a man strolled past them, a big stout fellow, showily
dressed in a check suit; and he gravely took off his hat to Dr Porhoët.

The doctor smiled and returned the salute.
'Who is your fat friend?' asked Arthur.
'That is a compatriot of yours. His name is Oliver Haddo.'
'Art-student?' inquired Arthur, with the scornful tone he used when
referring to those whose walk in life was not so practical as his own.
'Not exactly. I met him a little while ago by chance. When I was getting
together the material for my little book on the old alchemists I read a
great deal at the library of the Arsenal, which, you may have heard, is
singularly rich in all works dealing with the occult sciences.'
Burden's face assumed an expression of amused disdain. He could not
understand why Dr Porhoët occupied his leisure with studies so
profitless. He had read his book, recently published, on the more
famous of the alchemists; and, though forced to admire the profound
knowledge upon which it was based, he could not forgive the waste of
time which his friend might have expended more usefully on topics of
pressing moment.
'Not many people study in that library,' pursued the doctor, 'and I soon
knew by sight those who were frequently there. I saw this gentleman
every day. He was immersed in strange old books when I arrived early
in the morning, and he was reading them still when I left, exhausted.
Sometimes it happened that he had the volumes I asked for, and I
discovered that he was studying the same subjects as myself. His
appearance was extraordinary, but scarcely sympathetic; so, though I
fancied that he gave me opportunities to address him, I did not avail
myself of them. One day, however, curiously enough, I was looking up
some point upon which it seemed impossible to find authorities. The
librarian could not help me, and I had given up the search, when this
person brought me the very book I needed. I surmised that the librarian
had told him of my difficulty. I was very grateful to the stranger. We
left together that afternoon, and our kindred studies gave us a common
topic of conversation. I found that his reading was extraordinarily wide,
and he was able to give me information about works which I had never

even heard of. He had the advantage over me that he could apparently
read, Hebrew as well as Arabic, and he had studied the Kabbalah in the
original.'
'And much good it did