This was the time of the rosy hours of Mazenderan, of which the
daroga's narrative has given us a glimpse. Erik had very original
ideas on the subject of architecture and thought out a palace much as a
conjuror contrives a trick-casket. The Shah ordered him to construct an
edifice of this kind. Erik did so; and the building appears to have
been so ingenious that His Majesty was able to move about in it unseen
and to disappear without a possibility of the trick's being discovered.
When the Shah-in-Shah found himself the possessor of this gem, he
ordered Erik's yellow eyes to be put out. But he reflected that, even
when blind, Erik would still be able to build so remarkable a house for
another sovereign; and also that, as long as Erik was alive, some one
would know the secret of the wonderful palace. Erik's death was
decided upon, together with that of all the laborers who had worked
under his orders. The execution of this abominable decree devolved
upon the daroga of Mazenderan. Erik had shown him some slight services
and procured him many a hearty laugh. He saved Erik by providing him
with the means of escape, but nearly paid with his head for his
generous indulgence.
Fortunately for the daroga, a corpse, half-eaten by the birds of prey,
was found on the shore of the Caspian Sea, and was taken for Erik's
body, because the daroga's friends had dressed the remains in clothing
that belonged to Erik. The daroga was let off with the loss of the
imperial favor, the confiscation of his property and an order of
perpetual banishment. As a member of the Royal House, however, he
continued to receive a monthly pension of a few hundred francs from the
Persian treasury; and on this he came to live in Paris.
As for Erik, he went to Asia Minor and thence to Constantinople, where
he entered the Sultan's employment. In explanation of the services
which he was able to render a monarch haunted by perpetual terrors, I
need only say that it was Erik who constructed all the famous
trap-doors and secret chambers and mysterious strong-boxes which were
found at Yildiz-Kiosk after the last Turkish revolution. He also
invented those automata, dressed like the Sultan and resembling the
Sultan in all respects,[2] which made people believe that the
Commander of the Faithful was awake at one place, when, in reality, he
was asleep elsewhere.
Of course, he had to leave the Sultan's service for the same reasons
that made him fly from Persia: he knew too much. Then, tired of his
adventurous, formidable and monstrous life, he longed to be some one
"like everybody else." And he became a contractor, like any ordinary
contractor, building ordinary houses with ordinary bricks. He tendered
for part of the foundations in the Opera. His estimate was accepted.
When he found himself in the cellars of the enormous playhouse, his
artistic, fantastic, wizard nature resumed the upper hand. Besides,
was he not as ugly as ever? He dreamed of creating for his own use a
dwelling unknown to the rest of the earth, where he could hide from
men's eyes for all time.