Today I took a brief respite from my labors to attend divine services with the Suprenants, followed by a lovely Sunday dinner. It was life-saving, for I have been living at the Guild Hall and eating my own cooking—a skill I have never acquired, and for which I have no time! I wonder if Bertrand has any ability to cook. I wonder if Bertrand will be coming to help me. I found an arrow from Amelie awaiting me at the Suprenant's today, but it simply said that she understood my instructions and would attend to things in Bois-de-Bas. I take that as a good sign, but not as conclusive, for she will still have to deal with Bertrand's father.
I wonder if I can afford to hire a woman to come in and cook and clean the guild hall.
Mr. Trout thinks I am building models and perfecting my design, and in truth I have built a few models—the sort of thing I made when I first started thinking about flight last year—just so that there is something for him to see should he infiltrate the guildhall in my absence. I have also fashioned a hiding place for you, Dear Journal, of a sort only another former might notice. It wouldn't do for Trout or his agents to find you. I have also put a small amount of money and some papers in the hiding place beneath Master Grenadine's bed; if Trout goes looking he should find something, lest he keep looking!
But mostly I have been trying to work out plausible relationships between Greed and Generosity in formed objects: what Master Grenadine refers to as charité and envie. I have been re-reading him closely, trying to glean anything more that he has to say. But no, there is nothing. He got almost as far as Luc and I have in our observations, and he wrote them down in his highly poetic way; but beyond that he seems to have contented himself with idle speculation.
I wonder…perhaps there is nothing practical in his book because all of the practical applications are in his grimoire? They would be near the end, which I confess I have not read carefully. And, of course, I left his grimoire in Bois-de-Bas. I shall have to send another arrow to Amelie.
I spoke to M. Fournier yesterday, asking for books about mathematics. I should have done so a month ago, when I first thought of it. He had none, alas; as I believe I have noted before, his clientele purchases books to give the appearance of culture, not the appearance of learning. In better days, he told me, he might get me one from Toulouse in a matter of a few months. But it is not impossible, he told me, that there might be one among his acquaintances who is interested in such things, or who knows of such a person. I am to be patient.
In the meantime, I am pondering harmonie. Master Grenadine says that a thing exhibits harmonie if its formed parts exhibit charité and envie to the same degree, and describes harmonie as a blessed state much to be achieved. It is clear that he is speaking of exactly that state of balance between Greed and Generosity that I am seeking. And yet, how is one to know that two parts are in this state of balance without measurement? He doesn't say.
He goes on to wonder whether we might ever form a single thing that exhibits harmonie in and of itself. This is worth thinking on: would this be a hardened block that also warms, a thing formed in two distinct ways? An unusual thing to do, though I'm not sure why; and I don't know whether that would mean forming it in one way, and then, subsequently, in another. Or would it be something else, a new kind of forming altogether, where rather than aiming at a particular Greedy effect and also at a particular Generous effect, one aims at a single Harmonious effect?
I am not even sure that that last idea makes any sense! Indeed, I'm not sure that Grenadine distinguished between different kinds of Greedy or Generous effects.
In the meantime, I have at least managed to procure a balance and a set of weights, and a thermometer, by the simple expedient of telling Trout that I need them. They should arrive tomorrow; and then I can begin to get on with my trials.