The old chemist excited pity among persons of his own rank, satirical curiosity among the others,--two sentiments big with contempt and with the "vae victis" with which the masses assail a man of genius when they see him in misfortune.

Persons often stopped before the House of Claes to show each other the rose window of the garret where so much gold and so much coal had been consumed in smoke.

When Balthazar passed along the streets they pointed to him with their fingers; often, on catching sight of him, a mocking jest or a word of pity would escape the lips of a working-man or some mere child.

But Lemulquinier was careful to tell his master it was homage; he could deceive him with impunity, for though the old man's eyes retained the sublime clearness which results from the habit of living among great thoughts, his sense of hearing was enfeebled.
To most of the peasantry, and to all vulgar and superstitious minds, Balthazar Claes was a sorcerer.

The noble old mansion, once named by common consent "the House of Claes," was now called in the suburbs and the country districts "the Devil's House." Every outward sign, even the face of Lemulquinier, confirmed the ridiculous beliefs that were current about Balthazar.