Part 3 [a plan in motion]
There was a soft knock on the door. Lorenz composed himself and gathered some of his papers as he asked Hilde to come in. It was time for lunch, she said, eyeing him carefully. From her tone, he quickly realized that he hadn't eaten in a full day. His body was caught up in a strange sense of weightlessness, both in a state of softness from the lack of sustenance and in extreme tension due to his anticipation for the evening's function. He let her lead the way to the dining room, where the usual meal had been served.
They never spoke much on those occasions; he quite liked it that way. He did, however, indulge in extensive observations of her gestures, as her custom was of reading at the table and thus, she was blissfully unaware of his examinations. He'd had no illusions as to the reason behind her parents' petition. He had eluded the marital question for a while now and would have continued to do so quite happily, but a single conversation with her had moved him to act out of immense pity. The wretched thing had been born with the wits of a man, and he knew that unless he took her under his wing, her fate would've quickly ended in a witch's burning.
It was perhaps confirmation as to the profane essence of Nature; evidence of the hand of the Earthly Rulers, that there would be women gifted with the intellectual gifts that were so disparate with their prima materia. For, if Men really came from dust, females were a lot further back in their evolution from it that males were. Incomplete as they were, filled with stupid passions and with a tendency for vice, they were fertile soil for all pursuits that drove a good man away from the Divine. How could it be any other way? A single glance at Hilde's soft, fine neck, her pristine hands, or her full, voluptuous lips was enough to convince anyone of the baseness of their nature. They were so lovely, so inviting; clear traps meant to drive men into temptation, to throw all expectations of immortality away, and lose themselves in their soft folds.
And yet, and yet... he, an Alchemist, a craftsman after God's own image, he who was seeking for the most debase matter to perform the most perfect miracle, could simply not partake in Hilde's nature for his operation. For she was lovely, a perfect temptress; but she was righteous in her own way, chaste, and her mind was attuned to the same sense of awe for the Divine as his was. She was to be trapped in a realm in between, Sheol; not quite in Hell and not quite in Heaven. He would not be his wife in the retort.
A sudden feverish vision overtook him, and he had to restrain himself. They had been fairly common since her arrival, and were especially violent when they'd spend long amount of times together in the lab, where the dense atmosphere and the dim lighting made evil bubble forth in the veins of Man. A man of a lesser nature would've caved in; but he took it in stride, dissolved the thought and coagulated it, and let it fester in the back of his head, for it all went to the perfect retort he was preparing.
Her eyes left the book for a moment, and fixed on his face with an uncanny sense of timing. Lorenz had the sudden thought that she was able to sense the shift in his moods; and felt no little amount of alarm. He said nothing; neither did she, but the look in her eyes was enough to fill books. The pity in them disarmed him, and he had to leave the table.