The Alchemist in the Shadows

4

Rue Saint-Thomas-du-Louvre was located in a neighbourhood that stretched from the palace of the Louvre in the east to that of the Tuileries in the west, and between rue Saint-Honore to the north and the Grande Galerie to this south. This old neighbourhood had undergone various upheavals over the centuries, to the point of now finding itself curiously embedded in the royal precinct, after the Grande Galerie -also known as 'Gallery on the shore' — was built to link the Louvre to the Tuileries along the bank of the Seine. But whatever its changed circumstances, it had kept its mediaeval appearance. Dirty, cramped, and populous, it offered an unfortunate contrast with the royal buildings that surrounded it on three sides.

Running north from the quays, rue Saint-Thomas-du-Louvre ended at rue Saint-Honore, opposite the Palais-Cardinal. It took its name from a twelfth-century church dedicated to Saint Thomas of



Canterbury, and had acquired a certain notoriety due to the two adjoining mansions of Rambouillet and Chev-reuse. The first was the Parisian residence of the marquise de Rambouillet, who hosted a famous literary salon there. The second belonged to the duchesse de Chevreuse, whose reputation as a lover, schemer, and woman of the world needed no further embellishment.

This evening, the duchesse was receiving guests.

Torches burned at the monument gates of her mansion, lighting up the street in the gathering dusk.

Other torches illuminated the courtyard. The guests were already arriving in coaches, in sedan chairs, on horseback. But also on foot, escorted by lackeys who carried lights and who, once they reached their destination, helped their masters change their shoes or even their stockings. Groups were forming at both ends of rue Saint-Thomas. And people were almost jostling one another before the mansion itself. They conversed gaily, already pleasantly anticipating the excellent evening they would be spending. The jesting of men and the laughter of women rose from the scene, disturbing the night's nascent tranquillity.

In the courtyard, the chairs hindered the carriages as they made the turn to deliver their occupants to the front porch. Made nervous by the agitation, the horses held by their bits whinnied and threatened to rear up between their traces. Lackeys and coachmen did their best to prevent any mishaps. For their masters, it was a question of making the most noteworthy appearance thanks to the splendour of their team and the magnificence of their attire.

There was, however, one guest who — although he came unaccompanied by any servant and descended from a simple hired chair — inspired a certain amount of awe. Thin and pallid, with icy grey eyes and bloodless lips, he was dressed in the austere black robes of a scholar and did not exchange glances with anyone.

'Who is that?' some of those present asked in hushed voices.

'That's Mauduit.'

'Who?'

'Mauduit. Madame de Chevreuse's new master of magic!'

'The one they say is a sorcerer?'

Mauduit.

That was how he was known here. But he had borne and still bore many other names.

And, to a few people only, he was known as the Alchemist of the Shadows.