The Alchemist's Daughter Read Online Free PDF

pharmacy.’ And the goldsmith attested that it was pure gold, weighing a pound minus half an ounce. There is a rumour also that Dr. Dee and his assistant Edward Kelley have obtained a supply of this same powder; and that with a single grain, no bigger than the finest grain of sand, they turned an ounce of mercury into an ounce of pure gold. Moreover, they cut a piece out of a warming pan, and turned it into silver. Even now they are practising their alchemical arts in the courts of Poland and Bohemia. Can we offer to do less for our own Queen?”
    â€œAnd what substance do you mean to transmute?”
    â€œUnfortunately, the adepts do not tell us what is to be used for raw material. Some have experimented with grass or mandrake roots, with honey, or wax, or wine, or eggs, or all manner of unlikely materials. None of them had succeeded, as far as I can tell. I have decided to use copper, which has more in common with gold than any of those. See, I am about to begin the work, the black stage, the nigredo , by heating the copper with sulphur.”
    â€œThen I’d best throw open all the doors and windows,” Sidonie sighed, “for whatever else you may produce, we can depend on a terrible stink.”

    Sidonie was hanging linen to dry in the garden when she saw the stranger at the gate. She pushed back her hair, lank from the steam of the laundry vat, and hastily tied a kerchief over it.
    At first glance she took the tall, stooped figure with its limping gait for some elderly scholar, come to consult her father’s library or while away the afternoon in metaphysical discussion. But as she came to greet him, she saw that she had been deceived by the drab black gown and ungainly walk, and in fact the visitor was little older than herself. He was bareheaded, dark-haired, with a narrow, thin-lipped face. His eyes, a pale intense silver-grey, seemed to look straight past her. He said, “I have an appointment with Dr. Quince.”
    â€œHe is in the library, I believe,” said Sidonie, more than a little flustered. “I will show you the way.”
    He followed her inside, with no thanks and no attempt at conversation. His long black sleeves drooped limply, the hem of his gown swept the floor like a seventy-year-old’s. He mistakes me for the serving-woman , thought Sidonie, and this, together with his odd dress and uncivil manner, disposed her less than kindly towards him.
    She showed him into the library, closed the door, and went out to deal with the rest of the laundry.
    â€œWho was it came to see you today?” Sidonie asked her father as they sat down to supper. “I don’t believe I recognized him.”
    â€œAh, did I not tell you, daughter?” Simon Quince broke off a generous chunk of yesterday’s bread. “I have decided to hire an assistant.”
    â€œFather!” Sidonie banged a dish of boiled cabbage down on the table, hard enough to make the ale dance in the beakers.
    â€œMy dear?”
    â€œHow are we to find the money to feed another mouth, or worse, to pay his wages?”
    â€œAh, but that is no longer a difficulty, daughter. Remember the funds Her Majesty has advanced me.”
    â€œAnd did you not think, since we are now so rich, that I could have used an assistant? Father, I have been bent over the washing-vat since dawn, because we have no servant, and I believed there was no money to send out the linen.”
    â€œYou had only to mention it, Sidonie.”
    â€œYes, well,” said Sidonie grimly. “There. Now I have mentioned it. And who, may I ask, is this apprentice you have so summarily hired?”
    â€œNo apprentice, daughter. A fully qualified assistant. He comes with the highest credentials, having worked abroad with alchemists in the courts of . . . ”
    â€œAnd have you proof of that,” interrupted Sidonie, “or merely his word?”
    â€œMy dear, have you so little faith in my judgment? He