Bex dug the slightly sharpened base of the button stick into the sand; planted vertically against the Stock Exchange, it showed the back side of the buttons to the Incomparables’ stage.
After stepping out of sight for a moment, he reappeared carrying under each arm ten long and cumbersome cylinders, made of the same gray metal already amply on display on the button stick.
He crossed the length of the esplanade and set down his heavy load before the red theater.
Each cylinder, a tight metal cap over one end, looked like a kind of huge pencil fitted with an ordinary lead protector.
Bex, piling his entire stock on the ground, composed an ingeniously regular geometric figure.
Four of the monstrous pencils, lying side-by-side flat on the sand, provided the base of the structure. A second row, set over the first, comprised three pencils laid in the shallow trenches formed by the rounded shape of their predecessors. The next, narrower level counted two pencils, themselves topped by the tenth and last, placed alone at the summit of the heap with its triangular façade.
Bex had first secured the whole thing with two heavy stones drawn from his pockets.
It was by following a scrupulously determined order and selection that the chemist had stacked his cylinders, taking care to identify each with a special marking engraved somewhere on their circumference.
The metal caps all aimed their tips at the distant button stick, which acted as a target to the ten giant pencils that were trained on it like cannon barrels.
Before pursuing the experiment, Bex removed his cufflinks, shaped like four golden olives; then, taking from his pockets his watch, money clip, and keys, he handed the lot to Balbet, who promised to look after the glittering deposit.
Back at his post, leaning over the pile of cylinders, Bex firmly gripped a large ring fastened to the tip of the highest lead protector.
The chemist needed only the slight traction of a few steps backward to slip off the metal cap, which fell like a pendulum against his legs.
Now uncovered, the formerly invisible portion of the uppermost cylinder became the focus of our attention. The silvery barrel, indeed looking like an actual and perfectly sharpened pencil, ended in a cone, from which emerged a fat, smooth, and rounded amber-colored lead.
Bex, repeating this same maneuver, successively uncapped the ten cylinders, of which all now showed the same yellowish and diaphanous lead sticking out of their regularly narrowed extremity.
This process finished, the chemist again crossed the esplanade, carrying under his arms the ten sheaths, which he dropped near the button stick.
An explanation was in order, and Bex took the floor to reveal the point of these various exercises.
The amber-colored leads enclosed in the giant pencils were made of a highly complex substance, which Bex had prepared and baptized magnetine.
Despite accumulated obstacles, magnetine was attracted from a distance by a specific metal or precious stone.
Owing to certain differences in composition, the ten leads before our eyes corresponded, in terms of attraction, to the ten buttons solidly held in the slots of the button stick.
To make possible and practicable the manipulation of the recently invented magnetine, it had become indispensable to discover an insulating compound. After extensive research, Bex had obtained stanchium, a dull gray metal produced through laborious efforts.
A thin sheet of stanchium, blocking the emanations from the magnetine, completely nullified its power of attraction, which not even the densest materials could themselves manage to dampen.
The pencils and lead-protectors were all made of stanchium, as were the button stick and the ten rectangular strips rising in tiers alongside the slit. The thread used to sew the buttons to the sheet was composed of the same metal, softened and braided.
By successively guiding the now-hidden disks into the circular opening in the slit, Bex, pushing against the button stick, would provoke the sudden displacement of the cylinders, each of which would rush forcefully toward the object placed in the vicinity of its amber-colored lead.
This last revelation caused the crowd to recoil in panic.
Indeed, many injuries were to be feared from the pencils, which, drawn by our jewelry, watches, coins, keys, or gold teeth, might suddenly come flying right at us.
The visible extremity of each lead, in short, eluded the protective power of the stanchium and fully justified these healthy apprehensions.
In a calm voice, Bex hastened to reassure his audience. To trigger the phenomenon of irresistible magnetism, a substance had to cause a strong reaction in the amber lead, which ran the entire length of each cylinder. The metals or precious stones placed in the axis of the bizarre stack were the only ones capable of such an effect. The button stick, by design, was wide enough to shield the entire threatened area; without it, the attraction would have been strong enough to pull in ships crossing the Atlantic, even as far away as the shores of America—if by some chance the earth’s curvature didn’t prevent this. As the operator, Bex would be very much exposed, and thus had apparently removed in advance any suspect element, including his vest and trouser buckles; his shirt and pants buttons were all made of bone, and a supple silk belt, encircling his waist, replaced his suspenders with their inevitable metal clips. He had definitively immunized himself at the final moment by entrusting Balbet with his most precious objects. By happy circumstance, his pure, excellent teeth were free of any foreign additions.
Just as the chemist was finishing his explanations, an unexpected phenomenon was signaled by a murmur from the crowd, which had slowly approached.
Everyone pointed in astonishment to the gold coins that had been scattered there by Stella Boucharessas.
For some time, the louis, double louis, and hundred-franc pieces had been trembling gently on the ground—to no one’s surprise, as their light movement might have been caused by some capricious breeze.
In reality, the imponderable amount of currency was under the influence of the top cylinder and its powerful force; already several coins had flown straight toward its amber lead and attached themselves solidly. Others followed suit, sometimes round and intact, sometimes having been creased and trampled underfoot.
Soon the ground was completely bare along a strictly regular stripe, bordered on either side by the remainder of coinage located outside the zone of attraction.
The lead was now hidden beneath a veritable buffer of gilded paper, covered with dates and effigies.
Several infinitesimal atoms of real gold must have entered into the composition of those tinsel riches.
Indeed, by its position, the overlayered lead corresponded, without any doubt, to the gold button meant to fill the opening at the center of the button stick. Its very specific power could thus not have been exerted on an imitation that was completely devoid of auriferous elements.
The slowness of the coins, their initial hesitation, had been caused solely by an insufficiency of pure gold in their composition.
Paying little heed to the incident, which in no way disturbed his plans, Bex grasped the width of blue drapery by its upper end, pulling it smoothly toward the top of the button stick.
The easy and regular slide required almost no effort.
The cloth, climbing up the slit, gradually hid the circular opening, which, invisible but easily divined, soon framed the first strip of stanchium.
At that point, Bex, with his knees and left hand, had to restrain the button stick, which was being pulled mightily toward the group of cylinders.
Indeed, behind the cloth, the gold button corresponding to the first strip was now encircled by the round eyelet. Two fragments of its disk, deprived of their stanchium armor, now had no obstacle between them and the amber leads aimed their way.
Bex’s resistance proved stronger than the first cylinder, which suddenly shot forward and flew like a rocket across the esplanade, slamming its tip into the button stick next to the thin protective strip.
> Still leaning in mightily, the chemist had been careful to shift his body to the right, staying out of the path the monstrous pencil would take.
The force of the strike nearly toppled the button stick, but, in Bex’s firm grip, it soon regained its balance.
Now immobile, the pencil hung in a gentle slope from its unsharpened end, dipping toward the ground, to the amber tip solidly adhered to the gold button despite the blue cloth between them.
The paper coins had in no way impeded the powerful attraction of the pure metal; flattened by the impact, they still decorated the lead with their artificial sparkle.
Through the cloth, Bex gently manipulated the gold button, which he labored to lift into the portion of the vertical slot above the eyelet.
The amber lead held fast, making the operation difficult.
The chemist persisted, for lack of a more practical method. Any attempt to pry the pencil loose would have proven fruitless. Only the slow, gradual interposition of a stanchium barrier could ultimately overcome the extraordinary attachment of the two bodies.
A series of laborious efforts eventually yielded the desired result.
At the very top of the slit, the gold button, still invisible, was once more completely sheltered behind the two panels of the button stick, rejoined at that spot by its faithful and rigid strip.
Bex stood the immense pencil upright.
With the sharp edge of a lead protector, he tried to scrape bare the amber tip that was still coated in gilded paper.
The thin, rounded blade, closely shaving the yellow surface, soon bested the light paper money, whose highly diluted alloy gave only feeble resistance.
When all the coins had drifted haphazardly to the ground, Bex fit the lead protector back onto the pencil, which he could now lay aside without fear of where it might point.
Then, returning to the button stick, he gently grasped the width of cloth and lifted it farther upward.
This second experiment, identical to the first, produced the flight of a second pencil, the lead of which rammed violently into the invisible silver button that had slipped into the gap.
After being liberated through the same painstaking process he’d previously employed, the pencil, now capped with a lead protector, was promptly set aside.
In its turn, the copper button, behind the blue cloth, attracted a third cylinder, which, briskly covered with stanchium, went to join the first and second.
The two top levels were now missing from the triangular façade initially formed by the stack of pencils.
Bex continued his unchanging maneuver. One by one, the buttons slid into the opening and drew the amber leads despite the distance; after this, Bex glided them into the upper part of the slot.
The pencils, having played their parts, were immediately capped and lined up on the ground one by one.
The last four disks, sumptuously composed of precious stones, corresponded to the lowest rung of cylinders, which alone remained facing the Incomparables’ Theater.
Their power of attraction was in no way inferior to that of the metals, and the impact of the docile amber leads against them was extraordinarily violent.
The experiment completed, Bex, addressing us once more, told us of the exorbitant offers that certain banking houses, wishing to exploit his discovery, had thrown at him.
And indeed, his collection of cylinders, with their ability to locate ore and gem deposits, could have become the source of limitless wealth. Instead of relying on chance to prospect underground, miners, precisely guided by an instrument that could be easily built, would immediately find the richest veins, with no false starts or wasted efforts.
But famous scientists, motivated by their proverbial disinterest, had long observed a kind of professional tradition that Bex wished to perpetuate.
Therefore rebuffing the proffered millions and even billions, he had wisely contented himself with his giant button stick, which, in tandem with the cylinders, highlighted his discovery to no practical end.
As he spoke, Bex picked up his pencils, all ten of them secured by their lead protectors.
He then disappeared with his burden, preceding Rao, who carried off the promptly uprooted button stick.
After a brief pause, we noticed the Hungarian Skariovszki in his tight-fitting red gypsy jacket, wearing a policeman’s kepi of the same color.
His right sleeve, rolled up to the elbow, revealed a thick coral bracelet coiled six times around his bare forearm.
He carefully watched over three black porters bearing various objects, who halted with him in the middle of the esplanade.
The first Negro carried in his arms a zither and a folding stand.
Skariovszki opened the stand, planting its four feet solidly on the ground. Then, on a narrow hinged frame unfolded horizontally, he rested the zither, which resounded at this gentle impact.
To the left of the instrument, a metal stem attached to the frame of the stand rose vertically after a slight bend, then split at its end like two tines of a fork; to the right, another identical stem formed its companion piece.
The second Negro carried, with no great effort, a long, transparent receptacle that Skariovszki set like a bridge above the zither, fitting its two ends onto the metal forks.
The shape of the new object was ideally suited to this means of installation. Built like a trough, it was composed of four slabs of mica. Two main slabs, identically rectangular, formed a sharp-edged base by joining their two planes at an angle. In addition, two triangular pieces, facing each other and adhering to the narrow ends of the rectangles, completed the diaphanous apparatus, which looked like a yawning, oversized change purse. A gap the width of a pea ran along the entire bottom edge of the translucent trough.
The third Negro had just set down a large earthenware vessel brimming with clear water, the weight of which Skariovszki asked one of us to gauge.
La Billaudière-Maisonnial, skimming off a tiny portion in the hollow of his hand, showed the keenest surprise and exclaimed that the strange liquid felt heavy as mercury.
During this time, Skariovszki lifted his right forearm to his face, uttering several coaxing words with great tenderness.
We then saw the coral bracelet, which was none other than a giant earthworm as thick as the Hungarian’s index finger, uncoil its two top rings and stretch slowly toward him.
La Billaudière-Maisonnial, straightening up again, now had to lend himself to another demonstration. At the gypsy’s request, he received the worm, which crawled over his open hand; his wrist immediately dropped beneath the sudden weight of the intruder, which apparently was heavy as solid lead.
Skariovszki removed the worm, still coiled around his arm, and placed it on the lip of the mica trough.
The annelid crawled into the empty receptacle, pulling with it the rest of its body, which gradually slid from around the gypsy’s flesh.
Soon the animal completely blocked the gap in the bottom edge, its horizontally stretched body supported by the two narrow inner ledges formed by the rectangular plates.
With great effort, the Hungarian hoisted the weighty vessel, the entire contents of which he poured into the trough, which was soon full to the brim.
Then, placing a knee on the ground and tilting his head to one side, he set the empty vessel beneath the zither, at a precisely determined point verified with a glance up and down the back of the instrument.
This last task accomplished, Skariovszki, standing nimbly upright, shoved his hands in his pockets, as if to limit himself from here on to a spectator’s role.
The worm, left to its own devices, suddenly raised, then immediately let drop, a short segment of its body.
Having had time to slip into the gap, a drop of liquid fell heavily onto one of the zither strings, which on impact emitted a pure and ringing low C.
Farther on, another twitch in the obstructing body let through a second drop, which this time struck a bright E. A G, then a high C, attacked in the same way, completed
the perfect chord that the worm sounded again over an entire octave.
After the third and final C, the seven consonant notes, struck at the same time, provided a kind of conclusion to this trial prelude.
Thus warmed up, the worm launched into a slow Hungarian melody, tender and languorously sweet.
Each drop of liquid, released by an intentional spasm of its body, struck precisely the right string, which then split it into two equal globules.
A felt strip, glued into place on the wood of the zither, cushioned the fall of the heavy fluid, which otherwise would have produced a bothersome dripping noise.
The liquid, which accumulated in round puddles, penetrated inside the instrument via two circular openings drilled in the soundboard. Each of the two expected overspills rolled silently down a thin inner layer of felt specifically designed to absorb it.
A fine, limpid stream, emerging from some hidden egress, soon formed beneath the zither and ended precisely at the mouth of the earthenware vessel that Skariovszki had carefully set in place. The fluid, following the slope of the narrow and equally felt-lined channel, flowed noiselessly to the bottom of the enormous basin, which prevented any of it from inundating the grounds.
The worm continued its musical contortions, sometimes striking two notes at once, much like professional zither players who hold a hammer in each hand.
Several melodies, plaintive or lighthearted, succeeded the initial cantilena without a pause.
Then, moving beyond the scope of the instrument’s habitual repertoire, the annelid launched into the polyphonic execution of a strangely danceable waltz.
Accompaniment and melody vibrated in harmony on the zither, which normally was limited to the production of a mere two simultaneous sounds.
Impressions of Africa (French Literature Series) Page 6
