"But what is that, Elliott?" Ramses asked.
"No use discussing it," said Elliott. "Allow me to say I'm off to Monte Carlo, and other gambling resorts. I've found as the result of the elixir I have a knack for cards I never exhibited in the past. And I have to use it for obvious reasons."
"Elliott, all you have to do is ask--" Julie said.
"No, my dear. No. We've been through that, and that I cannot do."
Ramses understood the man's pride. He'd understood it from the time of their first meeting. This was a nobleman without a nobleman's usual means, a man of privilege and breeding without the resources to support the houses he owned, or the style of life he was pressured to provide for those closest to him. Elliott knew the world; Elliott knew books, history, literature; and Elliott knew the silent shame of being in debt, and on the brink of ruin always. Now Elliott had within his veins the elixir of eternal life, and he was still not free of the bonds of the heart.
"Well, maybe I have a solution for you, Earl of Rutherford," said Ramses. "Yes, go to Monte Carlo, and gamble with your newfound gifts," he said. "But this will give you something for the future." He felt his inner pocket. All these European clothes were so thick, so padded, so filled with secret pockets. Yes, it was there, the piece of paper on which he'd drawn the map. He gave it now to the earl. "Can you make this out?" he asked.
Elliott took the piece of hotel stationery in his hands and studied it intently before answering. Ramses could see the curiosity in Julie's bright blue eyes, but he waited.
"Of course, I know this, this is the Gold Coast of Africa, you've used all the modern names," said Elliott. "I've never been there..."
"Buy the land there, exactly where I have marked," said Ramses. "No one is looking for gold there. But you will find it there if you look, and you will find the remains of ancient mines which were once the property of the pharaoh of Egypt."
"But why do you give this to me?"
"Take it," said Ramses. "I have other resources just as rich. I've asked questions, many questions, of the bankers we've met here and everywhere, of the agents who handle Julie's affairs. These resources of mine have been forgotten by the world. I can draw on them when I need them. This is only one gold mine, and it is my gift to you, and I command you to take it."
Elliott smiled, affectionately but with faint disapproval. Ramses saw the tragedy in his eyes, the humiliation. And he will live forever, Ramses thought, and someday centuries from now, he will not even recall the agony of this moment. But we are in this moment, and this agony is real.
"I'm serious," said Ramses. "You took the elixir from me, Earl of Rutherford. Now take this. I demand it."
Elliott reflected for a long moment, the lights playing in his blue eyes, eyes almost the same shade as those of Julie, as those most surely of Ramses. Blue eyes of a certain shade that were the infallible evidence of the elixir. Then Elliott folded the map and slipped it into his pocket.
"Go to Monte Carlo," said Ramses again. "Be wise with your winnings, and clever. And you'll soon have the means to explore that mine."
Elliott nodded. "Very well, Your Majesty," he said with a faint ironic tone. "This is very gracious of you." Elliott smiled, but there was defeat behind the smile.
Ramses shrugged. "Talk to your bankers about the land now. A delay in developing the land will be in your favor. But you should purchase it as soon as possible." He glanced at Julie. "As for my precious one, I have other maps, as I said."
Julie was gazing at him with unreserved admiration.
It was now full dark. And the magical realm of the Piazza San Marco had been further transformed as the sky above vanished in the mist, and strains of string quartets rose from the restaurant terraces around them. Perhaps the great golden church would close its doors. Ah, well, he would see it tomorrow. He would go during the quiet afternoon hours while the Italians slept.
Waiters were buzzing about, wine was being poured, and a raging hunger suddenly rose in Ramses as he caught the aromas of other meals being laid out around them. This hunger was never really appeased, nor the thirst that rose with it for wine or beer that would never make him drunk. Bring on the food, he thought excitedly. Intoxication was a thing of the past, but he wanted that flash of warmth from the wine that lasted just a few minutes after each drink.
Julie was speaking in rapid Italian to the waiter. But someone had touched her arm. It was one of those many English people who knew her from London.
She rose, acknowledging the well-dressed man who stood before her, and gave a quick kiss to the woman--a London merchant family.
"But your eyes, Julie!" said the woman. "Your eyes are blue. Julie, your eyes!"
Ramses glanced at Elliott. It was always the same, and now with the same conviction, Julie told the tale of the mysterious fever in Egypt that had changed her eyes from brown to blue. Utterly preposterous. Elliott was hiding his smile. But the couple was moving on, mollified as much as amazed. They had not recognized the Earl of Rutherford, and Julie had made no introductions.
"Spared again," said Elliott with a sigh. "But why do they believe it?"
"What?" asked Julie, settling in her chair once again. She picked up her glass. "That a fever caused my eyes to change color? I'll tell you why they believe it. They have to believe it."
Ramses laughed. He knew precisely what she meant.
"The eyes of human beings simply don't change color," said Julie. "So they welcome the explanation, and they accept it, and then they go back to the ordinary world in which such things simply don't happen." She sipped the wine. "Lovely," she whispered. She disguised her thirst, and only in small sips consumed the entire glass.
Over her shoulder appeared a waiter's hand to fill the glass again.
"Makes perfect sense," said Elliott. "Yet still it surprises me. It's even been in the papers in Lond