"What is this?" Joseph asked, furrowing his brow. Faced with something unfamiliar, Joseph felt little urge to put it in his mouth. Clearly, before he'd been transported here, he hadn't been much of a glutton.
"Allow me to tell you. This crystalline liquid is the nectar of the gods that the goddess of youth, Hebe, served to Zeus, king of the gods and wielder of thunderbolts. It's a divine substance bestowed upon the followers of the Muse... Come, give it a try. It can bring you all kinds of dreams and inspiration, and make you forget all your troubles." Armand answered in an exaggerated, declamatory tone, as if reciting El Cid.
"Come off it, Armand. You're not onstage, and you're not performing El Cid. Put it plainly: what is this stuff?" Joseph's tone had grown impatient.
"Ah, you mortal, an endless treasure lies before you, yet you have no eyes to see it." Armand continued in that melodious, operatic voice. "Do you love gold? With this, the treasure vaults of Ali Baba and Alexander will burst open before your eyes. Do you love fantasy? Drink it, and the boundless heavens and profound oceans will open their arms to you. Do you crave power? Drink it, and you will become Caesar, Augustus, Alexander. Is that not tempting enough?"
"What is it, exactly?" Joseph asked, frowning. He knew that this was an age when all sorts of psychoactive drugs were widely abused.
"Have you ever heard of the Saracens?" Armand asked.
"Of course I have. I even know about Assassin's Creed." That was what Joseph thought, before saying, "Of course. Of course I know."
"Then you must also know about the Old Man of the Mountain, who tried to assassinate Philip Augustus. Legend says he ruled over a rich valley, flanked by towering mountains—that was where his legendary name came from. They say that in that mysterious valley, he had a garden where, according to Marco Polo, he cultivated a kind of magical herb.
"His chosen ones, the Assassins, had only to eat it to ascend to heaven ahead of time. Having witnessed the joys of paradise, they all believed that serving the Old Man would let them enter heaven forever. So when he ordered them to kill someone, they did. They would trek to the ends of the earth, even to the golden apple tree where Heracles had once stood; they would face torture, or even beheading, without fear. They believed these were simply ways to return to the heaven they had once visited. My friend, the key to that heaven is right before you."
"Indian hemp!" Joseph said.
"Exactly, that's the stuff!" Armand declared with an exaggerated grin. "So, want to try it?"
"No, no," Joseph hurriedly replied. "Armand, you know I've always been wary of strange and unusual things when it comes to food and drink."
"Alas, Joseph, how much joy you'll miss out on in life! But perhaps you don't really need this stuff, since you're never short of inspiration. Besides, your attitude toward food reminds me a little of my uncle's." Armand said, "Hmm, what's wrong with your father?"
"We don't know for sure yet." Joseph answered sadly. "But the doctors suspect there's a tumor in his stomach, causing it to ulcerate and bleed repeatedly. In short, it's very dangerous, and the doctors can do almost nothing. They think he doesn't have long. Perhaps soon I'll have to leave school and return to Corsica."
"Will you come back?" Armand asked.
"I hope I can." Joseph said. "Who would want to leave Paris? But you know I have several brothers and sisters. My sisters are one thing, but my brothers all need an education, and that's a considerable expense. If something really happens to my father, as the eldest son, I'll have to step up and shoulder the family's responsibilities."
"Joseph, you're not even fifteen yet," Armand said. "Even if you wanted to work, it would be a little early. You've still got a year before you graduate. If you drop out now, it would be a shame. And the salary you could get by looking for work now would be a lot lower than what you could earn after graduating and getting your diploma.
"Perhaps the salary you'd earn by dropping out and working a year early wouldn't even be half what you could make by gritting your teeth and studying for another year. Your family is noble... Of course, I know Corsican nobility is very different from French nobility... I mean the difference in wealth, not anything else. But nobles are still nobles. Even poor nobles are only poor compared with other nobles. So I think your family can surely find a way to hold on for one more year."
Joseph shook his head. "My friend, our finances are worse than you imagine. The poor nobles you're talking about are poor French nobles. Poor Corsican nobles are poorer still. You know Corsica has just been through a war, and war has devastated its wealth. Besides, at first France didn't recognize the nobility of Corsican nobles. Later, they granted recognition under certain conditions, but getting that recognition cost money—a great deal of money. It nearly drained our family dry. So we're much poorer than you think."
"All right, all right," Armand said. "But I still think... Oh, by the way, how's your English?"
"Pretty good. It might even be slightly better than my French," Joseph replied. "Why do you ask?"
"You're short of money, aren't you?" Armand said. "Someone asked me to find a person to translate Shakespeare's and Milton's poems and plays. The pay is decent—not much less than what you'd get if you dropped out and found a job. Well, the truth is, your studies don't cost much. If you live frugally enough, you might even have some money left over. If you keep going to school, take on a few jobs like this, and your family tightens its belt, you should be able to get by for a year. Then you'll graduate, and you'll have a chance to earn a lot more than you do now."
Joseph knew that Armand wasn't telling the whole truth when he said someone had asked him to find a translator for Shakespeare and Milton's poems and plays. The real situation was probably that someone had asked Armand to translate them.
"Armand, they asked you to translate these, didn't they? If I take the job, won't I be taking money away from you?" Joseph said.
"Oh, I'm so busy these days. Where would I find time for that? Look, I have to enjoy the nectar of the goddess of youth, Hebe, while also keeping up with my whole regiment of mistresses... Good heavens, when would I have time for such dull work? If I spent my youth at a desk, all my mistresses would run off to Fabio's bed—or some other fellow's. It's just that the person who asked me is a friend, so I couldn't refuse. If you're willing to do it, you'd be freeing me!" Armand replied in his usual exaggerated tone.
Armand was handsome, came from a good family, and was wealthy, so he was indeed very attractive to women. He himself also liked to compare himself to Don Juan, the archetypal womanizer of medieval European legend, much like the Chinese figure known as the "lady-killer." So there were indeed often different women around him. But claiming to have a whole regiment of mistresses was surely an exaggeration.
"Then I'm very grateful to you," Joseph replied sincerely. "Also, do you think I could work as your uncle's assistant after I graduate?"
"What? Work as his assistant?" Armand's eyes widened. "Ah, my friend, with your level of mathematics and natural philosophy, you could certainly do it. But I wouldn't recommend working as my famous uncle's assistant after you graduate."
"Why?" Joseph asked.
"If you weren't under financial pressure, working for him wouldn't be a bad choice. You could learn a lot. But perhaps you don't know that my uncle... Ah, he's my elder, and the pride of all France. I shouldn't say anything against him. But no one is perfect except Jesus. My uncle is no different. In some respects... Have you read Shakespeare's The Merchant of Venice?"
"I have." Joseph nodded.
"In certain ways, he's a little like Shylock in that play. So if you're under financial pressure, working as his assistant isn't a good choice." Armand gave a wry smile.
"I see..." Joseph echoed.
Joseph knew that Armand's uncle, Lavoisier, was one of France's greatest scientists, but he also knew Armand probably wasn't slandering his own uncle. Lavoisier had been consumed by a desire for wealth. So even during the Revolution, despite knowing that as a nobleman he was disliked by the ruling Jacobins, he had still risked tax farming, hoarding goods, and speculation. In the end, those activities had landed him on the guillotine.
The great mathematician Lagrange had lamented, "It took France a hundred years to produce such a brilliant mind, but they cut it off in a second." Yet even Lagrange, who had said this, didn't believe Lavoisier had never done the things the Jacobins accused him of.
"Actually, with your abilities and the reputation of Lycée Louis-le-Grand, finding a suitable job won't be hard," Armand said. "For instance, it would be easy for you to become a priest in a black robe. Of course, in theory, priests have to give up a lot of things, but in practice, that's another matter. You know, many popes kept mistresses. Pope Alexander VI may even have... with his own daughter. Truly... enviable!"
"You beast!" Joseph hurriedly exclaimed.
"Thank you for your high praise," Armand replied shamelessly.
Before you continue