Reaching different subdivisions in the portion of the thermometer located below the glass, the white knob, moved several times, successively provoked a military march, a cornet solo, a waltz, a polka, and blaring clarion calls.

Suddenly, opening the cold tap full throttle, Bex rapidly obtained a frigid temperature drop, whose effects could be felt by the nearest spectators through the diaphanous partitions. All eyes turned to a gramophone with a large horn, which emitted a rich and powerful baritone voice. A huge box, perforated with air holes and placed beneath the device, apparently contained a series of records that caused the membrane to vibrate phonographically by means of a special wire; imperceptible fluctuations, carefully regulated by the chemist in the hyperborean atmosphere, offered us a host of recitativos and romances, sung by male or female voices in a wide range of timbres and registers. As a secondary function, the harp and keyboard took turns accompanying the sometimes lighthearted, sometimes tragic melodies in the seemingly inexhaustible repertoire.

Wishing to underscore the astounding flexibility of his extraordinary metal, not a fragment of which could be seen, Bex spun the red knob and waited a few seconds.

In no time the glacier changed into a furnace, and the thermometer shot up to its highest point. A group of flutes and fifes immediately punctuated a rousing march over sharp, regular drumbeats. Here again, different oscillations in temperature produced unexpected results. Several fife solos, discreetly supported by the brass fanfare, were followed by a graceful duet, based on the echo principle, that presented each scale twice in a row, performed first by a flute and then by a fluid soprano emanating from the phonograph.

Swelling anew, the purple liquid rose to the top of the tube, which seemed ready to burst. Several people stood back, discomfited by the torrid heat from the nearby cage, in which three hunting horns, set near the harp, lustily blew a deafening call. Minuscule dips in temperature then provided a sampling of the primary cynegetic fanfares, the last of which was a spirited hallali.

Having run through the main workings of his orchestra, Bex offered to take requests, and activate again any of the groups of instruments we’d already heard.

One by one, each of us expressed a wish that the chemist instantly gratified, with nothing more than his knobs. Demonstrating a second time and in random order his many polyphonic combinations, he slightly altered the character of the works by coquettishly introducing imperceptible thermal differences.

For his finale, Bex reached a special group of temperature markings, traced in red on the tube. Now practically every one of the instrument’s components worked in concert, executing a grand, majestic symphony into which joined a choir clearly nuanced by the gramophone. The percussion, composed of a bass drum with cymbals, the drum played earlier, and several additional bells of various pitches, enlivened the piece with its plain, steady rhythm. The orchestral repertoire was infinitely rich, as Bex presented a panoply of dances, medleys, overtures, and variations, finishing with a furious gallopade that strained the bass drum to full capacity. He then lifted the pedal and again took his place at the rear of the vehicle, pushing it before him like a child’s wagon.

As he turned to leave, everyone began talking excitedly about bexium and the marvelous results obtained with this astounding metal, whose stupefying qualities the instrument had just demonstrated so conclusively.

 

 

Bex, who had briefly vanished behind the Stock Exchange, soon returned, holding upright in both hands what looked like a giant button stick,1 three feet wide and twice as high, made of a dull gray metal that suggested tarnished silver.

A narrow longitudinal slit like a buttonhole opened in the middle of the giant slab, except that the circular opening which would allow the buttons through was placed midway up the slit and not at its end.

With a glance, the chemist, keeping his distance, made sure he had our attention; he then designated ten large buttons aligned vertically one against the other near the bottom of the slit, naming the substance from which each was composed.

The whole thing formed a shiny, multicolored line giving off the most varied reflections.

At the top, the first button, of smooth, tawny gold, offered a sparkling surface. Below it, the second, of pure silver, barely stood out from the similarly colored background of the button stick. The third, made of copper, fourth, of platinum, fifth, of pewter, and sixth, of nickel, were all of the same size and without ornamentation. The next four were made of various precious stones, delicately attached; one was composed solely of diamonds, the other of rubies, the third of sapphires, and the last of gleaming emeralds.

Bex spun the board around to show us its other side.

At the bottom hung a piece of blue cloth to which all the buttons were sewn.

Ten very thin strips of gray metal, attached to the fabric, lay one above the other along the slit, and were of exactly the same width. They occupied, on this side of the board, the places corresponding to each button, whose diameter was equal to their height. Ten lengths of metal thread, also gray, which anchored the precious disks solidly to the board, formed at the very center of each narrow rectangular strip a jumble of criss-crosses ending in a fat knot formed by the expert fingers of some able seamstress.

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.