he made to the imagination.

This young Provencal nobleman was known to dabble in magic, and there
were one or two dark passages in his past life of which more than
a whisper had gone abroad. Of being a student of alchemy, a
"philosopher"--that is to say, a seeker after the philosopher's stone,
which was to effect the transmutation of metals--he made no secret. But
if you taxed him with demoniacal practices he would deny it, yet in a
way that carried no conviction.

To this dangerous fellow Madame de Montespan now made appeal in her
desperate need.

Their eyes met as he was sauntering past, and with a lazy smile and a
languid wave of her fan she beckoned him to her side.

"They tell me, Vanens," said she, "that your philosophy succeeds so well
that you are transmuting copper into silver."

His piercing eyes surveyed her, narrowing; a smile flickered over his
thin lips.

"They tell you the truth," he said. "I have cast a bar which has been
purchased as good silver by the Mint."

Her interest quickened. "By the Mint!" she echoed, amazed. "But, then,
my friend--" She was breathless with excitement. "It is a miracle."

"No less," he admitted. "But there is the greater miracle to come--the
transmutation of base metal into gold."

"And you will perform it?"

"Let me but conquer the secret of solidifying mercury, and the rest is
naught. I shall conquer it, and soon."

He spoke with easy confidence, a man stating something that he knew
beyond the possibility of doubt. The Marquise became thoughtful. She
sighed.

"You are the master of deep secrets, Vanens. Have you none that will
soften flinty hearts, make them responsive?"

He considered this woman whom Saint-Simon has called "beautiful as the
day," and his smile broadened.

"Look in your mirror for the alchemy needed there," he bade her.

Anger rippled across the perfect face. She lowered

"I have looked--in vain. Can you not help me, Vanens, you who know so
much?"

"A love-philtre?" said he, and hummed. "Are you in earnest?"

"Do you mock me with that question? Is not my need proclaimed for all to
see?"

Vanens became grave.

"It is not an alchemy in which myself I dabble," he said slowly. "But I
am acquainted with those who do."

She clutched his wrist in her eagerness.

"I will pay well," she said.

"You will need to. Such things are costly." He glanced round to see that
none was listening, then bending nearer: "There is a sorceress named La