Chapter 6: Cesare Mercurio
This morning I was making my way to the laboratory, eager to start the experiments on the powder I have serendipitously generated yesterday. And yet I was floating in a peculiar juvenile lighthearted state of mind, which made my work unusually fragmented and erratic. I incidentally asked myself the origin of this condition, and as I did I caught sight of the flaming head of the woman I had seen yesterday. I must admit – unwillingly – that a rush of mirthful warmth inundated me, uncontrollably. I understood that the carefree merriness I had felt within me few moments earlier was the result of having met this woman who can ignite me with pure happiness by her mere presence, even from a distance. Who is she?, I asked myself. I am not a foolish man, and you must know that never before I have reacted with such irrational impetus to any encounter, let alone to one with an unknown woman! And yet this woman has the power to influence my disposition with the same strength with which the moon affects tides, and I had to discover who she was. I thus observed her from a distance, and let my steps follow hers.
She took a turn in a narrow side street, and for a moment I feared she would become aware of my presence because we were the sole passers-by in that solitary street at that early time of the day. And yet my woman – alas, why I am calling her mine? - and yet the woman who fascinated me like a hot flame in a cold winter day did not see me. After walking awhile in this narrow alley, she guided me into a graciously petite square where I hadn’t been passing in a long time.
Remembrance square is its name. There is an ornate fountain in the center of the square, representing a woman playing with fishes, as the foam of the waves wraps her voluptuous body in a vigorous embrace. In a corner of the square there is an apothecary shop, which I never noticed before today, and there the red headed woman entered. I stood at the opposite side of the square, as if waiting for someone.
From there I had a full view of the shop, of which I could see the inside because of a large window on the front. There was a man in the shop, who seemed to me like the owner because of his age and behaviour. There was an exchange of phrases between them, which seemed to indicate friendly familiarity between the two, although I could not hear the conversation. Then the woman removed her coat and went behind the counter. She is an apothecary! I saw her set some jars on the bench and mount what was clearly a distillation apparatus. She proceeded in setting up the equipment necessary for her work with attentive care. Alas, how adorable her intent expression was! And how peculiar that she is also a chemist, although the application of her work is dissimilar from mine! Do you not believe that I instinctively understood the connection between us? You must recognize that such a similarity is all the more astounding because being an apothecary is by all means an uncommon profession for women. And this woman is much too well dressed, much too refined to be in need for money. Clearly she is an apothecary by choice! Oh beauty!
In spite of the pungent chill of the air I could have spent hours observing her work with loving passion, but how could I motivate my prolonged presence in the square? My precious woman should not detect my presence, not for now at least. I therefore headed to my laboratory, with the hope that my work could soothe the turmoil within me. And of course, I also had a plan for the day, and plenty of discovers awaiting me! Not a single woman in this world could be more intriguing than my science: such was the thought animating my fast-paced return to the laboratory.
Once I reached the laboratory I proceeded to arrange the flasks and the beakers for the proof of water. I was about to set up all the chemicals required for my experiment when I looked up, and my eye caught sight of a glass jar where I had stored two graceful pieces of cinnabar with a peculiar translucence and a dainty shape. And a mad thought crossed my mind. Two pieces of cinnabar…I took them and admired them from a while, holding them on my palm against the cone of light coming from the window.
Indeed, it was a mad thought, but after setting my mind on it I could not renounce it anymore. I placed the cinnabar back into the jar, I hastily donned my coat and slipped the jar in my coat’s pocket. And out I was again, heading to a jeweller’s shop I had seen at the corner of Berzelius Street. The shope had appealed to me because of its solitary and mysterious appearance.
Can you speculate on what my instinct was leading me to do when I decided to walk to the jeweler? If there were two pieces of cinnabar, did it not mean somehow that one should me mine, and the other one should belong to the woman whose hair was red just like the beautiful mineral from which my wondrous, manly mercury derived? There was nobody in the shop, and that was just as well because I needed calm focus to define how to valorize the precious stamina of cinnabar in jewels like nobody has seen before. I wanted the two pieces of jewelry to be unique, imaginific and refined, and worth the value of the mineral they carried within them.
After a while the jeweler came out from the back of the shop, with a slightly arched back, a whiskery face surly with focused attention and dark blue eyes that captured the jar I was holding with rapid and competent precision. The jeweler tried to disguise his astonishment as he observed the contents of the jar.
“May I suggest diamonds with better tones of red?”, he asked
“This is a mineral of unparalleled value”, I replied firmly
“Of course sir”, the jeweler conceded
I was well aware of his skepticism, but I was willing to excuse his ignorance – if not accept it – provided that the man fulfilled my request!
“I am here because you have the reputation of being the best jeweler in town. Respect the mineral I gave you, even if you do not comprehend its value!”, I began and the jeweler nodded, startled by the vehemence of my tone
“I want you to make a necklace and a ring. The necklace must have a pendant, obtained by embedding the mineral in a drop of glass, perfectly transparent, as transparent as the purest water. Mind you, the perfect transparency, the watery quality, is essential! The chain is less important, but make sure it is nothing less than excellent. For the ring, encase the mineral in a piece of gold forged into the shape of a flame. The red cinnabar I am giving you must be enveloped in virile tongues of heat! Are you able to do this by tomorrow afternoon? Work all night, do whatever it takes, but complete the work soon and flawlessly!”, I concluded
“As you wish sir”, the jeweller said
I nodded, and walked out of the shop pondering how to meet my fabulous creature again, how to speak to her and hand her the necklace which would have the same power, elegance and fascination that she herself possessed.
Alas, hours later I am still rolling the same question in my head, unable to do anything but imagine the moment I will give the necklace to the woman…can I make this moment happen? Will it be perfect? And…
The words elude me.
Alas! Alas!