Full resolution (JPEG) - On this page / på denna sida - I. The Hand of the Invisible
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My newly-won freedom gave me a feeling of
expansion and elevation above the petty cares
of life in the great capital. In this arena of
intellectual warfare I had just gained a victory,
which, although worthless in itself, signified a
great deal to me. It was the fulfilment of a
youthful dream which all my countrymen had
dreamed, but which had been realised by me
alone, to have a play of one’s own performed
in a Paris theatre. Now the theatre repelled
me, as everything does when one has reached
it, and science attracted me. Obliged to
choose between love and knowledge, I had
decided to strive for the highest knowledge; and
as I myself sacrificed my love, I forgot the
other innocent sacrifice to my ambition or my
mission.
As soon as I returned to my poor student’s
room in the Latin Quarter, I rummaged in my
chest and drew out of their hiding-place six
saucepans of fine porcelain. I had bought them
a long time ago, although they were too dear
for my means. A pair of tongs and a packet
of pure sulphur completed the apparatus of my
laboratory. I kindled a smelting-furnace in the
fireplace, closed the door, and drew down the
blinds, for only three months after the execution
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