A Winter Amid the Ice and Other Thrilling Stories By Jules Verne Published by:The World Publishing HouseNew Yowk, 1877 Contents DOCTOR OX'S EXPERIMENT CHAPTER I. How it is useless to seek, even on the best maps, for the smalltown of Quiquendone CHAPTER II. In which the Burgomaster Van Tricasse and the CounsellorNiklausse consult about the affairs of the town CHAPTER III. In which the Commissary Passauf enters as noisily as unexpectedly CHAPTER IV. In which Doctor Ox reveals himself as a physiologist of the firstrank, and as an audacious experimentalist CHAPTER V. In which the burgomaster and the counsellor pay a visit to DoctorOx, and what follows CHAPTER VI. In which Frantz Niklausse and Suzel Van Tricasse form certainprojects for the future CHAPTER VII. In which the Andantes become Allegros, and the Allegros Vivaces CHAPTER VIII. In which the ancient and solemn German waltz becomes a whirlwind CHAPTER IX. In which Doctor Ox and Ygène, his assistant, say a few words CHAPTER X. In which it will be seen that the epidemic invades the entiretown, and what effect it produces CHAPTER XI. In which the Quiquendonians adopt a heroic resolution CHAPTER XII. In which Ygène, the assistant, gives a reasonable piece ofadvice, which is eagerly rejected by Doctor Ox CHAPTER XIII. In which it is once more proved that by taking high ground allhuman littlenesses may be overlooked CHAPTER XIV. In which matters go so far that the inhabitants of Quiquendone, the reader, and even the author, demand an immediate dénouement CHAPTER XV. In which the dénouement takes place CHAPTER XVI. In which the intelligent reader sees that he has guessedcorrectly, despite all the author's precautions CHAPTER XVII. In which Doctor Ox's theory is explained MASTER ZACHARIUS. CHAPTER I. A winter night CHAPTER II. The pride of science CHAPTER III. A strange visit CHAPTER IV. The Church of St. Pierre CHAPTER V. The hour of death A DRAMA IN THE AIR A WINTER AMID THE ICE CHAPTER I. The black flag CHAPTER II. Jean Cornbutte's project CHAPTER III. A ray of hope CHAPTER IV. In the passes CHAPTER V. Liverpool Island CHAPTER VI. The quaking of the ice CHAPTER VII. Settling for the winter CHAPTER VIII. Plan of the explorations CHAPTER IX. The house of snow CHAPTER X. Buried alive CHAPTER XI. A cloud of smoke CHAPTER XII. The return to the ship CHAPTER XIII. The two rivals CHAPTER XIV. Distress CHAPTER XV. The white bears CHAPTER XVI. Conclusion ASCENT OF MONT BLANC LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. She handed her father a pipe The worthy Madame Brigitte Van Tricasse had now her secondhusband "I have just come from Dr. Ox's" "It is in the interests of science" "The workmen, whom we have had to choose in Quiquendone, are notvery expeditious" The young girl took the line "Good-bye, Frantz, " said Suzel Fiovaranti had been achieving a brilliant success in "LesHuguenots" They hustle each other to get out It was no longer a waltz It required two persons to eat a strawberry "To Virgamen! to Virgamen!" "A burgomaster's place is in the front rank" The two friends, arm in arm The whole army of Quiquendone fell to the earth He would raise the trap-door constructed in the floor of hisworkshop The young girl prayed "Thou wilt see that I have discovered the secrets of existence". "Father, what is the matter?" Then he resumed, in an ironical tone From morning till night discontented purchasers besieged thehouse This proud old man remained motionless "It is there--there!" "See this man, --he is Time" He was dead "Monsieur, I salute you" "Monsieur!" cried I, in a rage "He continued his observations for seven or eight hours withGeneral Morlot" "The balloon became less and less inflated" "Zambecarri fell, and was killed!" The madman disappeared in space "Monsieur the curè, " said he, "stop a moment, if you please" André Vasling, the mate, apprised Jean Cornbutte of the dreadfulevent A soft voice said in his ear, "Have good courage, uncle" André Vasling showed himself more attentive than ever On the 12th September the sea consisted of one solid plain They found themselves in a most perilous position, for anicequake had occurred Map in hand, he clearly explained their situation The caravan set out "Thirty-two degrees below zero!" Despair and determination were struggling in his rough featuresfor the mastery It was Louis Cornbutte Penellan advanced towards the Norwegians Marie begged Vasling on her knees to produce the lemons, but hedid not reply Marie rose with cries of despair, and hurried to the bed of oldJean Cornbutte The bear, having descended from the mast, had fallen on the twomen The old curè received Louis Cornbutte and Marie View of Mont Blanc from the Brevent View of Bossons glacier, near the Grands-Mulets Passage of the Bossons Glacier Crevasse and bridge View of the "Seracs" View of "Seracs" Passage of the "Junction" Hut at the Grands-Mulets View of Mont Blanc from Grands-Mulets Crossing the plateau Summit of Mont Blanc Grands-Mulets:--Party descending from the hut DOCTOR OX'S EXPERIMENT. CHAPTER I. HOW IT IS USELESS TO SEEK, EVEN ON THE BEST MAPS, FOR THE SMALL TOWNOF QUIQUENDONE. If you try to find, on any map of Flanders, ancient or modern, the small town of Quiquendone, probably you will not succeed. IsQuiquendone, then, one of those towns which have disappeared? No. A town of the future? By no means. It exists in spite ofgeographies, and has done so for some eight or nine hundredyears. It even numbers two thousand three hundred and ninety-threesouls, allowing one soul to each inhabitant. It is situatedthirteen and a half kilometres north-west of Oudenarde, andfifteen and a quarter kilometres south-east of Bruges, in theheart of Flanders. The Vaar, a small tributary of the Scheldt, passes beneath its three bridges, which are still covered with aquaint mediæval roof, like that at Tournay. An old château is tobe seen there, the first stone of which was laid so long ago as1197, by Count Baldwin, afterwards Emperor of Constantinople; andthere is a Town Hall, with Gothic windows, crowned by a chapletof battlements, and surrounded by a turreted belfry, which risesthree hundred and fifty-seven feet above the soil. Every hour youmay hear there a chime of five octaves, a veritable aerial piano, the renown of which surpasses that of the famous chimes ofBruges. Strangers--if any ever come to Quiquendone--do not quitthe curious old town until they have visited its "Stadtholder'sHall", adorned by a full-length portrait of William of Nassau, byBrandon; the loft of the Church of Saint Magloire, a masterpieceof sixteenth century architecture; the cast-iron well in thespacious Place Saint Ernuph, the admirable ornamentation of whichis attributed to the artist-blacksmith, Quentin Metsys; the tombformerly erected to Mary of Burgundy, daughter of Charles theBold, who now reposes in the Church of Notre Dame at Bruges; andso on. The principal industry of Quiquendone is the manufactureof whipped creams and barley-sugar on a large scale. It has beengoverned by the Van Tricasses, from father to son, for severalcenturies. And yet Quiquendone is not on the map of Flanders!Have the geographers forgotten it, or is it an intentionalomission? That I cannot tell; but Quiquendone really exists; withits narrow streets, its fortified walls, its Spanish-lookinghouses, its market, and its burgomaster--so much so, that it hasrecently been the theatre of some surprising phenomena, asextraordinary and incredible as they are true, which are to berecounted in the present narration. Surely there is nothing to be said or thought against theFlemings of Western Flanders. They are a well-to-do folk, wise, prudent, sociable, with even tempers, hospitable, perhaps alittle heavy in conversation as in mind; but this does notexplain why one of the most interesting towns of their districthas yet to appear on modern maps. This omission is certainly to be regretted. If only history, orin default of history the chronicles, or in default of chroniclesthe traditions of the country, made mention of Quiquendone! Butno; neither atlases, guides, nor itineraries speak of it. M. Joanne himself, that energetic hunter after small towns, says nota word of it. It might be readily conceived that this silencewould injure the commerce, the industries, of the town. But letus hasten to add that Quiquendone has neither industry norcommerce, and that it does very well without them. Its barley-sugarand whipped cream are consumed on the spot; none is exported. Inshort, the Quiquendonians have no need of anybody. Their desires arelimited, their existence is a modest one; they are calm, moderate, phlegmatic--in a word, they are Flemings; such as are still to bemet with sometimes between the Scheldt and the North Sea. CHAPTER II. IN WHICH THE BURGOMASTER VAN TRICASSE AND THE COUNSELLOR NIKLAUSSECONSULT ABOUT THE AFFAIRS OF THE TOWN. "You think so?" asked the burgomaster. "I--think so, " replied the counsellor, after some minutes ofsilence. "You see, we must not act hastily, " resumed the burgomaster. "We have been talking over this grave matter for ten years, "replied the Counsellor Niklausse, "and I confess to you, myworthy Van Tricasse, that I cannot yet take it upon myself tocome to a decision. " "I quite understand your hesitation, " said the burgomaster, whodid not speak until after a good quarter of an hour of reflection, "I quite understand it, and I fully share it. We shall do wisely todecide upon nothing without a more careful examination of thequestion. " "It is certain, " replied Niklausse, "that this post of civilcommissary is useless in so peaceful a town as Quiquendone. " "Our predecessor, " said Van Tricasse gravely, "our predecessornever said, never would have dared to say, that anything iscertain. Every affirmation is subject to awkward qualifications. " The counsellor nodded his head slowly in token of assent; then heremained silent for nearly half an hour. After this lapse oftime, during which neither the counsellor nor the burgomastermoved so much as a finger, Niklausse asked Van Tricasse whetherhis predecessor--of some twenty years before--had not thought ofsuppressing this office of civil commissary, which each year costthe town of Quiquendone the sum of thirteen hundred and seventy-fivefrancs and some centimes. "I believe he did, " replied the burgomaster, carrying his handwith majestic deliberation to his ample brow; "but the worthy mandied without having dared to make up his mind, either as to thisor any other administrative measure. He was a sage. Why should Inot do as he did?" Counsellor Niklausse was incapable of originating any objectionto the burgomaster's opinion. "The man who dies, " added Van Tricasse solemnly, "without everhaving decided upon anything during his life, has very nearlyattained to perfection. " This said, the burgomaster pressed a bell with the end of hislittle finger, which gave forth a muffled sound, which seemedless a sound than a sigh. Presently some light steps glidedsoftly across the tile floor. A mouse would not have made lessnoise, running over a thick carpet. The door of the room opened, turning on its well-oiled hinges. A young girl, with long blondetresses, made her appearance. It was Suzel Van Tricasse, theburgomaster's only daughter. She handed her father a pipe, filledto the brim, and a small copper brazier, spoke not a word, anddisappeared at once, making no more noise at her exit than at herentrance. [Illustration: She handed her father a pipe] The worthy burgomaster lighted his pipe, and was soon hidden in acloud of bluish smoke, leaving Counsellor Niklausse plunged inthe most absorbing thought. The room in which these two notable personages, charged with thegovernment of Quiquendone, were talking, was a parlour richlyadorned with carvings in dark wood. A lofty fireplace, in whichan oak might have been burned or an ox roasted, occupied thewhole of one of the sides of the room; opposite to it was atrellised window, the painted glass of which toned down thebrightness of the sunbeams. In an antique frame above thechimney-piece appeared the portrait of some worthy man, attributed to Memling, which no doubt represented an ancestor ofthe Van Tricasses, whose authentic genealogy dates back to thefourteenth century, the period when the Flemings and Guy deDampierre were engaged in wars with the Emperor Rudolph ofHapsburgh. This parlour was the principal apartment of the burgomaster'shouse, which was one of the pleasantest in Quiquendone. Built inthe Flemish style, with all the abruptness, quaintness, andpicturesqueness of Pointed architecture, it was considered one ofthe most curious monuments of the town. A Carthusian convent, ora deaf and dumb asylum, was not more silent than this mansion. Noise had no existence there; people did not walk, but glidedabout in it; they did not speak, they murmured. There was not, however, any lack of women in the house, which, in addition tothe burgomaster Van Tricasse himself, sheltered his wife, MadameBrigitte Van Tricasse, his daughter, Suzel Van Tricasse, and hisdomestic, Lotchè Janshéu. We may also mention the burgomaster'ssister, Aunt Hermance, an elderly maiden who still bore thenickname of Tatanémance, which her niece Suzel had given her whena child. But in spite of all these elements of discord and noise, the burgomaster's house was as calm as a desert. The burgomaster was some fifty years old, neither fat nor lean, neither short nor tall, neither rubicund nor pale, neither gaynor sad, neither contented nor discontented, neither energeticnor dull, neither proud nor humble, neither good nor bad, neithergenerous nor miserly, neither courageous nor cowardly, neithertoo much nor too little of anything--a man notably moderate inall respects, whose invariable slowness of motion, slightlyhanging lower jaw, prominent eyebrows, massive forehead, smoothas a copper plate and without a wrinkle, would at once havebetrayed to a physiognomist that the burgomaster Van Tricasse wasphlegm personified. Never, either from anger or passion, had anyemotion whatever hastened the beating of this man's heart, orflushed his face; never had his pupils contracted under theinfluence of any irritation, however ephemeral. He invariablywore good clothes, neither too large nor too small, which henever seemed to wear out. He was shod with large square shoeswith triple soles and silver buckles, which lasted so long thathis shoemaker was in despair. Upon his head he wore a large hatwhich dated from the period when Flanders was separated fromHolland, so that this venerable masterpiece was at least fortyyears old. But what would you have? It is the passions which wearout body as well as soul, the clothes as well as the body; andour worthy burgomaster, apathetic, indolent, indifferent, waspassionate in nothing. He wore nothing out, not even himself, andhe considered himself the very man to administer the affairs ofQuiquendone and its tranquil population. The town, indeed, was not less calm than the Van Tricassemansion. It was in this peaceful dwelling that the burgomasterreckoned on attaining the utmost limit of human existence, afterhaving, however, seen the good Madame Brigitte Van Tricasse, hiswife, precede him to the tomb, where, surely, she would not finda more profound repose than that she had enjoyed on earth forsixty years. This demands explanation. The Van Tricasse family might well call itself the "Jeannotfamily. " This is why:-- Every one knows that the knife of this typical personage is ascelebrated as its proprietor, and not less incapable of wearingout, thanks to the double operation, incessantly repeated, ofreplacing the handle when it is worn out, and the blade when itbecomes worthless. A precisely similar operation had been goingon from time immemorial in the Van Tricasse family, to whichNature had lent herself with more than usual complacency. From1340 it had invariably happened that a Van Tricasse, when left awidower, had remarried a Van Tricasse younger than himself; who, becoming in turn a widow, had married again a Van Tricasseyounger than herself; and so on, without a break in thecontinuity, from generation to generation. Each died in his orher turn with mechanical regularity. Thus the worthy MadameBrigitte Van Tricasse had now her second husband; and, unless sheviolated her every duty, would precede her spouse--he being tenyears younger than herself--to the other world, to make room fora new Madame Van Tricasse. Upon this the burgomaster calmlycounted, that the family tradition might not be broken. Such wasthis mansion, peaceful and silent, of which the doors nevercreaked, the windows never rattled, the floors never groaned, thechimneys never roared, the weathercocks never grated, thefurniture never squeaked, the locks never clanked, and theoccupants never made more noise than their shadows. The godHarpocrates would certainly have chosen it for the Temple ofSilence. [Illustration: the worthy Madame Brigitte Van Tricasse had nowher second husband] CHAPTER III. IN WHICH THE COMMISSARY PASSAUF ENTERS AS NOISILY AS UNEXPECTEDLY. When the interesting conversation which has been narrated began, it was a quarter before three in the afternoon. It was at aquarter before four that Van Tricasse lighted his enormous pipe, which could hold a quart of tobacco, and it was at thirty-fiveminutes past five that he finished smoking it. All this time the two comrades did not exchange a single word. About six o'clock the counsellor, who had a habit of speaking ina very summary manner, resumed in these words, -- "So we decide--" "To decide nothing, " replied the burgomaster. "I think, on the whole, that you are right, Van Tricasse. " "I think so too, Niklausse. We will take steps with reference tothe civil commissary when we have more light on the subject--later on. There is no need for a month yet. " "Nor even for a year, " replied Niklausse, unfolding hispocket-handkerchief and calmly applying it to his nose. There was another silence of nearly a quarter of an hour. Nothingdisturbed this repeated pause in the conversation; not even theappearance of the house-dog Lento, who, not less phlegmatic thanhis master, came to pay his respects in the parlour. Noble dog!--a model for his race. Had he been made of pasteboard, with wheelson his paws, he would not have made less noise during his stay. Towards eight o'clock, after Lotchè had brought the antique lampof polished glass, the burgomaster said to the counsellor, -- "We have no other urgent matter to consider?" "No, Van Tricasse; none that I know of. " "Have I not been told, though, " asked the burgomaster, "that thetower of the Oudenarde gate is likely to tumble down?" "Ah!" replied the counsellor; "really, I should not be astonishedif it fell on some passer-by any day. " "Oh! before such a misfortune happens I hope we shall have cometo a decision on the subject of this tower. " "I hope so, Van Tricasse. " "There are more pressing matters to decide. " "No doubt; the question of the leather-market, for instance. " "What, is it still burning?" "Still burning, and has been for the last three weeks. " "Have we not decided in council to let it burn?" "Yes, Van Tricasse--on your motion. " "Was not that the surest and simplest way to deal with it?" "Without doubt. " "Well, let us wait. Is that all?" "All, " replied the counsellor, scratching his head, as if toassure himself that he had not forgotten anything important. "Ah!" exclaimed the burgomaster, "haven't you also heardsomething of an escape of water which threatens to inundate thelow quarter of Saint Jacques?" "I have. It is indeed unfortunate that this escape of water didnot happen above the leather-market! It would naturally havechecked the fire, and would thus have saved us a good deal ofdiscussion. " "What can you expect, Niklausse? There is nothing so illogical asaccidents. They are bound by no rules, and we cannot profit byone, as we might wish, to remedy another. " It took Van Tricasse's companion some time to digest this fineobservation. "Well, but, " resumed the Counsellor Niklausse, after the lapse ofsome moments, "we have not spoken of our great affair!" "What great affair? Have we, then, a great affair?" asked theburgomaster. "No doubt. About lighting the town. " "O yes. If my memory serves me, you are referring to the lightingplan of Doctor Ox. " "Precisely. " "It is going on, Niklausse, " replied the burgomaster. "They arealready laying the pipes, and the works are entirely completed. " "Perhaps we have hurried a little in this matter, " said thecounsellor, shaking his head. "Perhaps. But our excuse is, that Doctor Ox bears the wholeexpense of his experiment. It will not cost us a sou. " "That, true enough, is our excuse. Moreover, we must advance withthe age. If the experiment succeeds, Quiquendone will be thefirst town in Flanders to be lighted with the oxy--What is thegas called?" "Oxyhydric gas. " "Well, oxyhydric gas, then. " At this moment the door opened, and Lotchè came in to tell theburgomaster that his supper was ready. Counsellor Niklausse rose to take leave of Van Tricasse, whoseappetite had been stimulated by so many affairs discussed anddecisions taken; and it was agreed that the council of notablesshould be convened after a reasonably long delay, to determinewhether a decision should be provisionally arrived at withreference to the really urgent matter of the Oudenarde gate. The two worthy administrators then directed their steps towardsthe street-door, the one conducting the other. The counsellor, having reached the last step, lighted a little lantern to guidehim through the obscure streets of Quiquendone, which Doctor Oxhad not yet lighted. It was a dark October night, and a light fogovershadowed the town. Niklausse's preparations for departure consumed at least aquarter of an hour; for, after having lighted his lantern, he hadto put on his big cow-skin socks and his sheep-skin gloves; thenhe put up the furred collar of his overcoat, turned the brim ofhis felt hat down over his eyes, grasped his heavy crow-beakedumbrella, and got ready to start. When Lotchè, however, who was lighting her master, was about todraw the bars of the door, an unexpected noise arose outside. Yes! Strange as the thing seems, a noise--a real noise, such asthe town had certainly not heard since the taking of the donjonby the Spaniards in 1513--terrible noise, awoke the long-dormantechoes of the venerable Van Tricasse mansion. Some one knocked heavily upon this door, hitherto virgin tobrutal touch! Redoubled knocks were given with some bluntimplement, probably a knotty stick, wielded by a vigorous arm. With the strokes were mingled cries and calls. These words weredistinctly heard:-- "Monsieur Van Tricasse! Monsieur the burgomaster! Open, openquickly!" The burgomaster and the counsellor, absolutely astounded, lookedat each other speechless. This passed their comprehension. If the old culverin of thechâteau, which had not been used since 1385, had been let off inthe parlour, the dwellers in the Van Tricasse mansion would nothave been more dumbfoundered. Meanwhile, the blows and cries were redoubled. Lotchè, recoveringher coolness, had plucked up courage to speak. "Who is there?" "It is I! I! I!" "Who are you?" "The Commissary Passauf!" The Commissary Passauf! The very man whose office it had beencontemplated to suppress for ten years. What had happened, then?Could the Burgundians have invaded Quiquendone, as they did inthe fourteenth century? No event of less importance could have somoved Commissary Passauf, who in no degree yielded the palm tothe burgomaster himself for calmness and phlegm. On a sign from Van Tricasse--for the worthy man could not havearticulated a syllable--the bar was pushed back and the dooropened. Commissary Passauf flung himself into the antechamber. One wouldhave thought there was a hurricane. "What's the matter, Monsieur the commissary?" asked Lotchè, abrave woman, who did not lose her head under the most tryingcircumstances. "What's the matter!" replied Passauf, whose big round eyesexpressed a genuine agitation. "The matter is that I have justcome from Doctor Ox's, who has been holding a reception, and thatthere--" [Illustration: I have just come from Doctor Ox's] "There?" "There I have witnessed such an altercation as--Monsieur theburgomaster, they have been talking politics!" "Politics!" repeated Van Tricasse, running his fingers throughhis wig. "Politics!" resumed Commissary Passauf, "which has not been donefor perhaps a hundred years at Quiquendone. Then the discussiongot warm, and the advocate, André Schut, and the doctor, Dominique Custos, became so violent that it may be they will calleach other out. " "Call each other out!" cried the counsellor. "A duel! A duel atQuiquendone! And what did Advocate Schut and Doctor Gustos say?" "Just this: 'Monsieur advocate, ' said the doctor to hisadversary, 'you go too far, it seems to me, and you do not takesufficient care to control your words!'" The Burgomaster Van Tricasse clasped his hands--the counsellorturned pale and let his lantern fall--the commissary shook hishead. That a phrase so evidently irritating should be pronouncedby two of the principal men in the country! "This Doctor Custos, " muttered Van Tricasse, "is decidedly adangerous man--a hare-brained fellow! Come, gentlemen!" On this, Counsellor Niklausse and the commissary accompanied theburgomaster into the parlour. CHAPTER IV. IN WHICH DOCTOR OX REVEALS HIMSELF AS A PHYSIOLOGIST OF THE FIRSTRANK, AND AS AN AUDACIOUS EXPERIMENTALIST. Who, then, was this personage, known by the singular name ofDoctor Ox? An original character for certain, but at the same time a boldsavant, a physiologist, whose works were known and highlyestimated throughout learned Europe, a happy rival of the Davys, the Daltons, the Bostocks, the Menzies, the Godwins, theVierordts--of all those noble minds who have placed physiologyamong the highest of modern sciences. Doctor Ox was a man of medium size and height, aged--: but wecannot state his age, any more than his nationality. Besides, itmatters little; let it suffice that he was a strange personage, impetuous and hot-blooded, a regular oddity out of one ofHoffmann's volumes, and one who contrasted amusingly enough withthe good people of Quiquendone. He had an imperturbableconfidence both in himself and in his doctrines. Always smiling, walking with head erect and shoulders thrown back in a free andunconstrained manner, with a steady gaze, large open nostrils, avast mouth which inhaled the air in liberal draughts, hisappearance was far from unpleasing. He was full of animation, well proportioned in all parts of his bodily mechanism, withquicksilver in his veins, and a most elastic step. He could neverstop still in one place, and relieved himself with impetuouswords and a superabundance of gesticulations. Was Doctor Ox rich, then, that he should undertake to light awhole town at his expense? Probably, as he permitted himself toindulge in such extravagance, --and this is the only answer we cangive to this indiscreet question. Doctor Ox had arrived at Quiquendone five months before, accompanied by his assistant, who answered to the name of GédéonYgène; a tall, dried-up, thin man, haughty, but not lessvivacious than his master. And next, why had Doctor Ox made the proposition to light thetown at his own expense? Why had he, of all the Flemings, selected the peaceable Quiquendonians, to endow their town withthe benefits of an unheard-of system of lighting? Did he not, under this pretext, design to make some great physiologicalexperiment by operating _in anima vili?_ In short, what was thisoriginal personage about to attempt? We know not, as Doctor Oxhad no confidant except his assistant Ygène, who, moreover, obeyed him blindly. In appearance, at least, Doctor Ox had agreed to light the town, which had much need of it, "especially at night, " as CommissaryPassauf wittily said. Works for producing a lighting gas hadaccordingly been established; the gasometers were ready for use, and the main pipes, running beneath the street pavements, wouldsoon appear in the form of burners in the public edifices and theprivate houses of certain friends of progress. Van Tricasse andNiklausse, in their official capacity, and some other worthies, thought they ought to allow this modern light to be introducedinto their dwellings. If the reader has not forgotten, it was said, during the longconversation of the counsellor and the burgomaster, that thelighting of the town was to be achieved, not by the combustion ofcommon carburetted hydrogen, produced by distilling coal, but bythe use of a more modern and twenty-fold more brilliant gas, oxyhydric gas, produced by mixing hydrogen and oxygen. The doctor, who was an able chemist as well as an ingeniousphysiologist, knew how to obtain this gas in great quantity andof good quality, not by using manganate of soda, according to themethod of M. Tessié du Motay, but by the direct decomposition ofslightly acidulated water, by means of a battery made of newelements, invented by himself. Thus there were no costlymaterials, no platinum, no retorts, no combustibles, no delicatemachinery to produce the two gases separately. An electriccurrent was sent through large basins full of water, and theliquid was decomposed into its two constituent parts, oxygen andhydrogen. The oxygen passed off at one end; the hydrogen, ofdouble the volume of its late associate, at the other. As anecessary precaution, they were collected in separate reservoirs, for their mixture would have produced a frightful explosion if ithad become ignited. Thence the pipes were to convey themseparately to the various burners, which would be so placed as toprevent all chance of explosion. Thus a remarkably brilliantflame would be obtained, whose light would rival the electriclight, which, as everybody knows, is, according to Cassellmann'sexperiments, equal to that of eleven hundred and seventy-one waxcandles, --not one more, nor one less. It was certain that the town of Quiquendone would, by thisliberal contrivance, gain a splendid lighting; but Doctor Ox andhis assistant took little account of this, as will be seen in thesequel. The day after that on which Commissary Passauf had made his noisyentrance into the burgomaster's parlour, Gédéon Ygène and DoctorOx were talking in the laboratory which both occupied in common, on the ground-floor of the principal building of the gas-works. "Well, Ygène, well, " cried the doctor, rubbing his hands. "Yousaw, at my reception yesterday, the cool-bloodedness of theseworthy Quiquendonians. For animation they are midway betweensponges and coral! You saw them disputing and irritating eachother by voice and gesture? They are already metamorphosed, morally and physically! And this is only the beginning. Wait tillwe treat them to a big dose!" "Indeed, master, " replied Ygène, scratching his sharp nose withthe end of his forefinger, "the experiment begins well, and if Ihad not prudently closed the supply-tap, I know not what wouldhave happened. " "You heard Schut, the advocate, and Custos, the doctor?" resumedDoctor Ox. "The phrase was by no means ill-natured in itself, but, in the mouth of a Quiquendonian, it is worth all the insultswhich the Homeric heroes hurled at each other before drawingtheir swords, Ah, these Flemings! You'll see what we shall dosome day!" "We shall make them ungrateful, " replied Ygène, in the tone of aman who esteems the human race at its just worth. "Bah!" said the doctor; "what matters it whether they think wellor ill of us, so long as our experiment succeeds?" "Besides, " returned the assistant, smiling with a maliciousexpression, "is it not to be feared that, in producing such anexcitement in their respiratory organs, we shall somewhat injurethe lungs of these good people of Quiquendone?" "So much the worse for them! It is in the interests of science. What would you say if the dogs or frogs refused to lendthemselves to the experiments of vivisection?" [Illustration: It is in the interests of Science. ] It is probable that if the frogs and dogs were consulted, theywould offer some objection; but Doctor Ox imagined that he hadstated an unanswerable argument, for he heaved a great sigh ofsatisfaction. "After all, master, you are right, " replied Ygène, as if quiteconvinced. "We could not have hit upon better subjects than thesepeople of Quiquendone for our experiment. " "We--could--not, " said the doctor, slowly articulating each word. "Have you felt the pulse of any of them?" "Some hundreds. " "And what is the average pulsation you found?" "Not fifty per minute. See--this is a town where there has notbeen the shadow of a discussion for a century, where the carmendon't swear, where the coachmen don't insult each other, wherehorses don't run away, where the dogs don't bite, where the catsdon't scratch, --a town where the police-court has nothing to dofrom one year's end to another, --a town where people do not growenthusiastic about anything, either about art or business, --atown where the gendarmes are a sort of myth, and in which anindictment has not been drawn up for a hundred years, --a town, inshort, where for three centuries nobody has struck a blow withhis fist or so much as exchanged a slap in the face! You see, Ygène, that this cannot last, and that we must change it all. " "Perfectly! perfectly!" cried the enthusiastic assistant; "andhave you analyzed the air of this town, master?" "I have not failed to do so. Seventy-nine parts of azote andtwenty-one of oxygen, carbonic acid and steam in a variablequantity. These are the ordinary proportions. " "Good, doctor, good!" replied Ygène. "The experiment will be madeon a large scale, and will be decisive. " "And if it is decisive, " added Doctor Ox triumphantly, "we shallreform the world!" CHAPTER V. IN WHICH THE BURGOMASTER AND THE COUNSELLOR PAY A VISIT TO DOCTOROX, AND WHAT FOLLOWS. The Counsellor Niklausse and the Burgomaster Van Tricasse at lastknew what it was to have an agitated night. The grave event whichhad taken place at Doctor Ox's house actually kept them awake. What consequences was this affair destined to bring about? Theycould not imagine. Would it be necessary for them to come to adecision? Would the municipal authority, whom they represented, be compelled to interfere? Would they be obliged to order arreststo be made, that so great a scandal should not be repeated? Allthese doubts could not but trouble these soft natures; and onthat evening, before separating, the two notables had "decided"to see each other the next day. On the next morning, then, before dinner, the Burgomaster VanTricasse proceeded in person to the Counsellor Niklausse's house. He found his friend more calm. He himself had recovered hisequanimity. "Nothing new?" asked Van Tricasse. "Nothing new since yesterday, " replied Niklausse. "And the doctor, Dominique Custos?" "I have not heard anything, either of him or of the advocate, André Schut. " After an hour's conversation, which consisted of three remarkswhich it is needless to repeat, the counsellor and the burgomasterhad resolved to pay a visit to Doctor Ox, so as to draw from him, without seeming to do so, some details of the affair. Contrary to all their habits, after coming to this decision thetwo notables set about putting it into execution forthwith. Theyleft the house and directed their steps towards Doctor Ox'slaboratory, which was situated outside the town, near theOudenarde gate--the gate whose tower threatened to fall in ruins. They did not take each other's arms, but walked side by side, with a slow and solemn step, which took them forward but thirteeninches per second. This was, indeed, the ordinary gait of theQuiquendonians, who had never, within the memory of man, seen anyone run across the streets of their town. From time to time the two notables would stop at some calm andtranquil crossway, or at the end of a quiet street, to salute thepassers-by. "Good morning, Monsieur the burgomaster, " said one. "Good morning, my friend, " responded Van Tricasse. "Anything new, Monsieur the counsellor?" asked another. "Nothing new, " answered Niklausse. But by certain agitated motions and questioning looks, it wasevident that the altercation of the evening before was knownthroughout the town. Observing the direction taken by VanTricasse, the most obtuse Quiquendonians guessed that theburgomaster was on his way to take some important step. TheCustos and Schut affair was talked of everywhere, but the peoplehad not yet come to the point of taking the part of one or theother. The Advocate Schut, having never had occasion to plead ina town where attorneys and bailiffs only existed in tradition, had, consequently, never lost a suit. As for the Doctor Custos, he was an honourable practitioner, who, after the example of hisfellow-doctors, cured all the illnesses of his patients, exceptthose of which they died--a habit unhappily acquired by all themembers of all the faculties in whatever country they maypractise. On reaching the Oudenarde gate, the counsellor and theburgomaster prudently made a short detour, so as not to passwithin reach of the tower, in case it should fall; then theyturned and looked at it attentively. "I think that it will fall, " said Van Tricasse. "I think so too, " replied Niklausse. "Unless it is propped up, " added Van Tricasse. "But must it bepropped up? That is the question. " "That is--in fact--the question. " Some moments after, they reached the door of the gasworks. "Can we see Doctor Ox?" they asked. Doctor Ox could always be seen by the first authorities of thetown, and they were at once introduced into the celebratedphysiologist's study. Perhaps the two notables waited for the doctor at least an hour;at least it is reasonable to suppose so, as the burgomaster--athing that had never before happened in his life--betrayed acertain amount of impatience, from which his companion was notexempt. Doctor Ox came in at last, and began to excuse himself for havingkept them waiting; but he had to approve a plan for thegasometer, rectify some of the machinery--But everything wasgoing on well! The pipes intended for the oxygen were alreadylaid. In a few months the town would be splendidly lighted. Thetwo notables might even now see the orifices of the pipes whichwere laid on in the laboratory. Then the doctor begged to know to what he was indebted for thehonour of this visit. "Only to see you, doctor; to see you, " replied Van Tricasse. "Itis long since we have had the pleasure. We go abroad but littlein our good town of Quiquendone. We count our steps and measureour walks. We are happy when nothing disturbs the uniformity ofour habits. " Niklausse looked at his friend. His friend had never said so muchat once--at least, without taking time, and giving long intervalsbetween his sentences. It seemed to him that Van Tricasseexpressed himself with a certain volubility, which was by nomeans common with him. Niklausse himself experienced a kind ofirresistible desire to talk. As for Doctor Ox, he looked at the burgomaster with slyattention. Van Tricasse, who never argued until he had snugly ensconcedhimself in a spacious armchair, had risen to his feet. I know notwhat nervous excitement, quite foreign to his temperament, hadtaken possession of him. He did not gesticulate as yet, but thiscould not be far off. As for the counsellor, he rubbed his legs, and breathed with slow and long gasps. His look became animatedlittle by little, and he had "decided" to support at all hazards, if need be, his trusty friend the burgomaster. Van Tricasse got up and took several steps; then he came back, and stood facing the doctor. "And in how many months, " he asked in a somewhat emphatic tome, "do you say that your work will be finished?" "In three or four months, Monsieur the burgomaster, " repliedDoctor Ox. "Three or four months, --it's a very long time!" said VanTricasse. "Altogether too long!" added Niklausse, who, not being able tokeep his seat, rose also. "This lapse of time is necessary to complete our work, " returnedDoctor Ox. "The workmen, whom we have had to choose in Quiquendone, are not very expeditious. " [Illustration: "The workmen, whom we have had to choose inQuiquendone, are not very expeditious. "] "How not expeditious?" cried the burgomaster, who seemed to takethe remark as personally offensive. "No, Monsieur Van Tricasse, " replied Doctor Ox obstinately. "AFrench workman would do in a day what it takes ten of yourworkmen to do; you know, they are regular Flemings!" "Flemings!" cried the counsellor, whose fingers closed together. "In what sense, sir, do you use that word?" "Why, in the amiable sense in which everybody uses it, " repliedDoctor Ox, smiling. "Ah, but doctor, " said the burgomaster, pacing up and down theroom, "I don't like these insinuations. The workmen of Quiquendoneare as efficient as those of any other town in the world, you mustknow; and we shall go neither to Paris nor London for our models!As for your project, I beg you to hasten its execution. Our streetshave been unpaved for the putting down of your conduit-pipes, and itis a hindrance to traffic. Our trade will begin to suffer, and I, being the responsible authority, do not propose to incur reproacheswhich will be but too just. " Worthy burgomaster! He spoke of trade, of traffic, and the wonderwas that those words, to which he was quite unaccustomed, did notscorch his lips. What could be passing in his mind? "Besides, " added Niklausse, "the town cannot be deprived of lightmuch longer. " "But, " urged Doctor Ox, "a town which has been un-lighted foreight or nine hundred years--" "All the more necessary is it, " replied the burgomaster, emphasizing his words. "Times alter, manners alter! The worldadvances, and we do not wish to remain behind. We desire ourstreets to be lighted within a month, or you must pay a largeindemnity for each day of delay; and what would happen if, amidthe darkness, some affray should take place?" "No doubt, " cried Niklausse. "It requires but a spark to inflamea Fleming! Fleming! Flame!" "Apropos of this, " said the burgomaster, interrupting his friend, "Commissary Passauf, our chief of police, reports to us that adiscussion took place in your drawing-room last evening, DoctorOx. Was he wrong in declaring that it was a political discussion?" "By no means, Monsieur the burgomaster, " replied Doctor Ox, whowith difficulty repressed a sigh of satisfaction. "So an altercation did take place between Dominique Gustos andAndré Schut?" "Yes, counsellor; but the words which passed were not of graveimport. " "Not of grave import!" cried the burgomaster. "Not of graveimport, when one man tells another that he does not measure theeffect of his words! But of what stuff are you made, monsieur? Doyou not know that in Quiquendone nothing more is needed to bringabout extremely disastrous results? But monsieur, if you, or anyone else, presume to speak thus to me--" "Or to me, " added Niklausse. As they pronounced these words with a menacing air, the twonotables, with folded arms and bristling air, confronted DoctorOx, ready to do him some violence, if by a gesture, or even theexpression of his eye, he manifested any intention of contradictingthem. But the doctor did not budge. "At all events, monsieur, " resumed the burgomaster, "I propose tohold you responsible for what passes in your house. I am bound toinsure the tranquillity of this town, and I do not wish it to bedisturbed. The events of last evening must not be repeated, or Ishall do my duty, sir! Do you hear? Then reply, sir. " The burgomaster, as he spoke, under the influence ofextraordinary excitement, elevated his voice to the pitch ofanger. He was furious, the worthy Van Tricasse, and mightcertainly be heard outside. At last, beside himself, and seeingthat Doctor Ox did not reply to his challenge, "Come, Niklausse, "said he. And, slamming the door with a violence which shook the house, theburgomaster drew his friend after him. Little by little, when they had taken twenty steps on their road, the worthy notables grew more calm. Their pace slackened, theirgait became less feverish. The flush on their faces faded away;from being crimson, they became rosy. A quarter of an hour afterquitting the gasworks, Van Tricasse said softly to Niklausse, "Anamiable man, Doctor Ox! It is always a pleasure to see him!" CHAPTER VI. IN WHICH FRANTZ NIKLAUSSE AND SUZEL VAN TRICASSE FORM CERTAINPROJECTS FOR THE FUTURE. Our readers know that the burgomaster had a daughter, Suzel But, shrewd as they may be, they cannot have divined that thecounsellor Niklausse had a son, Frantz; and had they divinedthis, nothing could have led them to imagine that Frantz was thebetrothed lover of Suzel. We will add that these young peoplewere made for each other, and that they loved each other, asfolks did love at Quiquendone. It must not be thought that young hearts did not beat in thisexceptional place; only they beat with a certain deliberation. There were marriages there, as in every other town in the world;but they took time about it. Betrothed couples, before engagingin these terrible bonds, wished to study each other; and thesestudies lasted at least ten years, as at college. It was rarethat any one was "accepted" before this lapse of time. Yes, ten years! The courtships last ten years! And is it, afterall, too long, when the being bound for life is in consideration?One studies ten years to become an engineer or physician, anadvocate or attorney, and should less time be spent in acquiringthe knowledge to make a good husband? Is it not reasonable? and, whether due to temperament or reason with them, the Quiquendoniansseem to us to be in the right in thus prolonging their courtship. When marriages in other more lively and excitable cities are seentaking place within a few months, we must shrug our shoulders, and hasten to send our boys to the schools and our daughters to the_pensions_ of Quiquendone. For half a century but a single marriage was known to have takenplace after the lapse of two years only of courtship, and thatturned out badly! Frantz Niklausse, then, loved Suzel Van Tricasse, but quietly, asa man would love when he has ten years before him in which toobtain the beloved object. Once every week, at an hour agreedupon, Frantz went to fetch Suzel, and took a walk with her alongthe banks of the Vaar. He took good care to carry his fishing-tackle, and Suzel never forgot her canvas, on which her pretty handsembroidered the most unlikely flowers. Frantz was a young man of twenty-two, whose cheeks betrayed asoft, peachy down, and whose voice had scarcely a compass of oneoctave. As for Suzel, she was blonde and rosy. She was seventeen, and didnot dislike fishing. A singular occupation this, however, whichforces you to struggle craftily with a barbel. But Frantz lovedit; the pastime was congenial to his temperament. As patient aspossible, content to follow with his rather dreamy eye the corkwhich bobbed on the top of the water, he knew how to wait; andwhen, after sitting for six hours, a modest barbel, taking pityon him, consented at last to be caught, he was happy--but he knewhow to control his emotion. On this day the two lovers--one might say, the two betrothed--were seated upon the verdant bank. The limpid Vaar murmured a fewfeet below them. Suzel quietly drew her needle across the canvas. Frantz automatically carried his line from left to right, thenpermitted it to descend the current from right to left. The fishmade capricious rings in the water, which crossed each otheraround the cork, while the hook hung useless near the bottom. From time to time Frantz would say, without raising his eyes, -- "I think I have a bite, Suzel. " "Do you think so, Frantz?" replied Suzel, who, abandoning herwork for an instant, followed her lover's line with earnest eye. "N-no, " resumed Frantz; "I thought I felt a little twitch; I wasmistaken. " "You _will_ have a bite, Frantz, " replied Suzel, in her pure, soft voice. "But do not forget to strike at the right moment. Youare always a few seconds too late, and the barbel takes advantageto escape. " "Would you like to take my line, Suzel?" "Willingly, Frantz. " "Then give me your canvas. We shall see whether I am more adroitwith the needle than with the hook. " And the young girl took the line with trembling hand, while herswain plied the needle across the stitches of the embroidery. Forhours together they thus exchanged soft words, and their heartspalpitated when the cork bobbed on the water. Ah, could they everforget those charming hours, during which, seated side by side, they listened to the murmurs of the river? [Illustration: the young girl took the line] The sun was fast approaching the western horizon, and despite thecombined skill of Suzel and Frantz, there had not been a bite. The barbels had not shown themselves complacent, and seemed toscoff at the two young people, who were too just to bear themmalice. "We shall be more lucky another time, Frantz, " said Suzel, as theyoung angler put up his still virgin hook. "Let us hope so, " replied Frantz. Then walking side by side, they turned their steps towards thehouse, without exchanging a word, as mute as their shadows whichstretched out before them. Suzel became very, very tall under theoblique rays of the setting sun. Frantz appeared very, very thin, like the long rod which he held in his hand. They reached the burgomaster's house. Green tufts of grassbordered the shining pavement, and no one would have thought oftearing them away, for they deadened the noise made by thepassers-by. As they were about to open the door, Frantz thought it his dutyto say to Suzel, -- "You know, Suzel, the great day is approaching?" "It is indeed, Frantz, " replied the young girl, with downcasteyes. "Yes, " said Frantz, "in five or six years--" "Good-bye, Frantz, " said Suzel. [Illustration: "Good-bye, Frantz, " said Suzel. ] "Good-bye, Suzel, " replied Frantz. And, after the door had been closed, the young man resumed theway to his father's house with a calm and equal pace. CHAPTER VII. IN WHICH THE ANDANTES BECOME ALLEGROS, AND THE ALLEGROS VIVACES. The agitation caused by the Schut and Custos affair had subsided. The affair led to no serious consequences. It appeared likelythat Quiquendone would return to its habitual apathy, which thatunexpected event had for a moment disturbed. Meanwhile, the laying of the pipes destined to conduct theoxyhydric gas into the principal edifices of the town wasproceeding rapidly. The main pipes and branches gradually creptbeneath the pavements. But the burners were still wanting; for, as it required delicate skill to make them, it was necessary thatthey should be fabricated abroad. Doctor Ox was here, there, andeverywhere; neither he nor Ygène, his assistant, lost a moment, but they urged on the workmen, completed the delicate mechanismof the gasometer, fed day and night the immense piles whichdecomposed the water under the influence of a powerful electriccurrent. Yes, the doctor was already making his gas, though thepipe-laying was not yet done; a fact which, between ourselves, might have seemed a little singular. But before long, --at leastthere was reason to hope so, --before long Doctor Ox wouldinaugurate the splendours of his invention in the theatre of thetown. For Quiquendone possessed a theatre--a really fine edifice, intruth--the interior and exterior arrangement of which combinedevery style of architecture. It was at once Byzantine, Roman, Gothic, Renaissance, with semicircular doors, Pointed windows, Flamboyant rose-windows, fantastic bell-turrets, --in a word, aspecimen of all sorts, half a Parthenon, half a Parisian GrandCafé. Nor was this surprising, the theatre having been commencedunder the burgomaster Ludwig Van Tricasse, in 1175, and onlyfinished in 1837, under the burgomaster Natalis Van Tricasse. Ithad required seven hundred years to build it, and it had, beensuccessively adapted to the architectural style in vogue in eachperiod. But for all that it was an imposing structure; the Romanpillars and Byzantine arches of which would appear to advantagelit up by the oxyhydric gas. Pretty well everything was acted at the theatre of Quiquendone;but the opera and the opera comique were especially patronized. It must, however, be added that the composers would never haverecognized their own works, so entirely changed were the"movements" of the music. In short, as nothing was done in a hurry at Quiquendone, thedramatic pieces had to be performed in harmony with the peculiartemperament of the Quiquendonians. Though the doors of thetheatre were regularly thrown open at four o'clock and closedagain at ten, it had never been known that more than two actswere played during the six intervening hours. "Robert le Diable, ""Les Huguenots, " or "Guillaume Tell" usually took up threeevenings, so slow was the execution of these masterpieces. The_vivaces_, at the theatre of Quiquendone, lagged like real_adagios_. The _allegros_ were "long-drawn out" indeed. Thedemisemiquavers were scarcely equal to the ordinary semibreves ofother countries. The most rapid runs, performed according toQuiquendonian taste, had the solemn march of a chant. The gayestshakes were languishing and measured, that they might not shockthe ears of the _dilettanti_. To give an example, the rapid airsung by Figaro, on his entrance in the first act of "Le Barbiérde Séville, " lasted fifty-eight minutes--when the actor wasparticularly enthusiastic. Artists from abroad, as might be supposed, were forced to conformthemselves to Quiquendonian fashions; but as they were well paid, they did not complain, and willingly obeyed the leader's baton, which never beat more than eight measures to the minute in the_allegros_. But what applause greeted these artists, who enchanted withoutever wearying the audiences of Quiquendone! All hands clapped oneafter another at tolerably long intervals, which the paperscharacterized as "frantic applause;" and sometimes nothing butthe lavish prodigality with which mortar and stone had been usedin the twelfth century saved the roof of the hall from fallingin. Besides, the theatre had only one performance a week, that theseenthusiastic Flemish folk might not be too much excited; and thisenabled the actors to study their parts more thoroughly, and thespectators to digest more at leisure the beauties of themasterpieces brought out. Such had long been the drama at Quiquendone. Foreign artists werein the habit of making engagements with the director of the town, when they wanted to rest after their exertions in other scenes;and it seemed as if nothing could ever change these inveteratecustoms, when, a fortnight after the Schut-Custos affair, anunlooked-for incident occurred to throw the population into freshagitation. It was on a Saturday, an opera day. It was not yet intended, asmay well be supposed, to inaugurate the new illumination. No; thepipes had reached the hall, but, for reasons indicated above, theburners had not yet been placed, and the wax-candles still shedtheir soft light upon the numerous spectators who filled thetheatre. The doors had been opened to the public at one o'clock, and by three the hall was half full. A queue had at one time beenformed, which extended as far as the end of the Place SaintErnuph, in front of the shop of Josse Lietrinck the apothecary. This eagerness was significant of an unusually attractiveperformance. "Are you going to the theatre this evening?" inquired thecounsellor the same morning of the burgomaster. "I shall not fail to do so, " returned Van Tricasse, "and I shalltake Madame Van Tricasse, as well as our daughter Suzel and ourdear Tatanémance, who all dote on good music. " "Mademoiselle Suzel is going then?" "Certainly, Niklausse. " "Then my son Frantz will be one of the first to arrive, " saidNiklausse. "A spirited boy, Niklausse, " replied the burgomastersententiously; "but hot-headed! He will require watching!" "He loves, Van Tricasse, --he loves your charming Suzel. " "Well, Niklausse, he shall marry her. Now that we have agreed onthis marriage, what more can he desire?" "He desires nothing, Van Tricasse, the dear boy! But, in short--we'll say no more about it--he will not be the last to get histicket at the box-office. " "Ah, vivacious and ardent youth!" replied the burgomaster, recalling his own past. "We have also been thus, my worthycounsellor! We have loved--we too! We have danced attendance inour day! Till to-night, then, till to-night! By-the-bye, do youknow this Fiovaranti is a great artist? And what a welcome he hasreceived among us! It will be long before he will forget theapplause of Quiquendone!" The tenor Fiovaranti was, indeed, going to sing; Fiovaranti, who, by his talents as a virtuoso, his perfect method, his melodiousvoice, provoked a real enthusiasm among the lovers of music inthe town. For three weeks Fiovaranti had been achieving a brilliant successin "Les Huguenots. " The first act, interpreted according to thetaste of the Quiquendonians, had occupied an entire evening ofthe first week of the month. --Another evening in the second week, prolonged by infinite _andantes_, had elicited for the celebratedsinger a real ovation. His success had been still more marked inthe third act of Meyerbeer's masterpiece. But now Fiovaranti wasto appear in the fourth act, which was to be performed on thisevening before an impatient public. Ah, the duet between Raouland Valentine, that pathetic love-song for two voices, thatstrain so full of _crescendos_, _stringendos_, and _piucrescendos_--all this, sung slowly, compendiously, interminably!Ah, how delightful! [Illustration: Fiovaranti had been achieving a brilliant successin "Les Huguenots. "] At four o'clock the hall was full. The boxes, the orchestra, thepit, were overflowing. In the front stalls sat the BurgomasterVan Tricasse, Mademoiselle Van Tricasse, Madame Van Tricasse, andthe amiable Tatanémance in a green bonnet; not far off were theCounsellor Niklausse and his family, not forgetting the amorousFrantz. The families of Custos the doctor, of Schut the advocate, of Honoré Syntax the chief judge, of Norbet Sontman the insurancedirector, of the banker Collaert, gone mad on German music, andhimself somewhat of an amateur, and the teacher Rupp, and themaster of the academy, Jerome Resh, and the civil commissary, andso many other notabilities of the town that they could not beenumerated here without wearying the reader's patience, werevisible in different parts of the hall. It was customary for the Quiquendonians, while awaiting the riseof the curtain, to sit silent, some reading the paper, otherswhispering low to each other, some making their way to theirseats slowly and noiselessly, others casting timid looks towardsthe bewitching beauties in the galleries. But on this evening a looker-on might have observed that, evenbefore the curtain rose, there was unusual animation among theaudience. People were restless who were never known to berestless before. The ladies' fans fluttered with abnormalrapidity. All appeared to be inhaling air of exceptionalstimulating power. Every one breathed more freely. The eyes ofsome became unwontedly bright, and seemed to give forth a lightequal to that of the candles, which themselves certainly threw amore brilliant light over the hall. It was evident that peoplesaw more clearly, though the number of candles had not beenincreased. Ah, if Doctor Ox's experiment were being tried! But itwas not being tried, as yet. The musicians of the orchestra at last took their places. Thefirst violin had gone to the stand to give a modest la to hiscolleagues. The stringed instruments, the wind instruments, thedrums and cymbals, were in accord. The conductor only waited thesound of the bell to beat the first bar. The bell sounds. The fourth act begins. The _allegroappassionato_ of the inter-act is played as usual, with amajestic deliberation which would have made Meyerbeer frantic, and all the majesty of which was appreciated by the Quiquendonian_dilettanti_. But soon the leader perceived that he was no longer master of hismusicians. He found it difficult to restrain them, though usuallyso obedient and calm. The wind instruments betrayed a tendency tohasten the movements, and it was necessary to hold them back witha firm hand, for they would otherwise outstrip the stringedinstruments; which, from a musical point of view, would have beendisastrous. The bassoon himself, the son of Josse Lietrinck theapothecary, a well-bred young man, seemed to lose his self-control. Meanwhile Valentine has begun her recitative, "I am alone, " &c. ;but she hurries it. The leader and all his musicians, perhaps unconsciously, followher in her _cantabile_, which should be taken deliberately, likea 12/8 as it is. When Raoul appears at the door at the bottom ofthe stage, between the moment when Valentine goes to him and thatwhen she conceals herself in the chamber at the side, a quarterof an hour does not elapse; while formerly, according to thetraditions of the Quiquendone theatre, this recitative ofthirty-seven bars was wont to last just thirty-seven minutes. Saint Bris, Nevers, Cavannes, and the Catholic nobles haveappeared, somewhat prematurely, perhaps, upon the scene. Thecomposer has marked _allergo pomposo_ on the score. The orchestraand the lords proceed _allegro_ indeed, but not at all _pomposo_, and at the chorus, in the famous scene of the "benediction of theponiards, " they no longer keep to the enjoined _allegro_. Singersand musicians broke away impetuously. The leader does not evenattempt to restrain them. Nor do the public protest; on thecontrary, the people find themselves carried away, and see thatthey are involved in the movement, and that the movement respondsto the impulses of their souls. "Will you, with me, deliver the land, From troubles increasing, an impious band?" They promise, they swear. Nevers has scarcely time to protest, and to sing that "among his ancestors were many soldiers, butnever an assassin. " He is arrested. The police and the aldermenrush forward and rapidly swear "to strike all at once. " SaintBris shouts the recitative which summons the Catholics tovengeance. The three monks, with white scarfs, hasten in by thedoor at the back of Nevers's room, without making any account ofthe stage directions, which enjoin on them to advance slowly. Already all the artists have drawn sword or poniard, which thethree monks bless in a trice. The soprani tenors, bassos, attackthe _allegro furioso_ with cries of rage, and of a dramatic 6/8time they make it 6/8 quadrille time. Then they rush out, bellowing, -- "At midnight, Noiselessly, God wills it, Yes, At midnight. " At this moment the audience start to their feet. Everybody isagitated--in the boxes, the pit, the galleries. It seems as ifthe spectators are about to rush upon the stage, the BurgomasterVan Tricasse at their head, to join with the conspirators andannihilate the Huguenots, whose religious opinions, however, theyshare. They applaud, call before the curtain, make loudacclamations! Tatanémance grasps her bonnet with feverish hand. The candles throw out a lurid glow of light. Raoul, instead of slowly raising the curtain, tears it apart witha superb gesture and finds himself confronting Valentine. At last! It is the grand duet, and it starts off _allegrovivace_. Raoul does not wait for Valentine's pleading, andValentine does not wait for Raoul's responses. The fine passage beginning, "Danger is passing, time is flying, "becomes one of those rapid airs which have made Offenbach famous, when he composes a dance for conspirators. The _andante amoroso_, "Thou hast said it, aye, thou lovest me, " becomes a real _vivacefurioso_, and the violoncello ceases to imitate the inflectionsof the singer's voice, as indicated in the composer's score. Invain Raoul cries, "Speak on, and prolong the ineffable slumber ofmy soul. " Valentine cannot "prolong. " It is evident that anunaccustomed fire devours her. Her _b's_ and her _c's_ above thestave were dreadfully shrill. He struggles, he gesticulates, heis all in a glow. The alarum is heard; the bell resounds; but what a panting bell!The bell-ringer has evidently lost his self-control. It is afrightful tocsin, which violently struggles against the fury ofthe orchestra. Finally the air which ends this magnificent act, beginning, "Nomore love, no more intoxication, O the remorse that oppressesme!" which the composer marks _allegro con moto_, becomes a wild_prestissimo_. You would say an express-train was whirling by. The alarum resounds again. Valentine falls fainting. Raoulprecipitates himself from the window. It was high time. The orchestra, really intoxicated, could nothave gone on. The leader's baton is no longer anything but abroken stick on the prompter's box. The violin strings arebroken, and their necks twisted. In his fury the drummer hasburst his drum. The counter-bassist has perched on the top of hismusical monster. The first clarionet has swallowed the reed ofhis instrument, and the second hautboy is chewing his reed keys. The groove of the trombone is strained, and finally the unhappycornist cannot withdraw his hand from the bell of his horn, intowhich he had thrust it too far. And the audience! The audience, panting, all in a heat, gesticulates and howls. All the faces are as red as if a firewere burning within their bodies. They crowd each other, hustleeach other to get out--the men without hats, the women withoutmantles! They elbow each other in the corridors, crush betweenthe doors, quarrel, fight! There are no longer any officials, anyburgomaster. All are equal amid this infernal frenzy! [Illustration: They hustle each other to get out] Some moments after, when all have reached the street, each oneresumes his habitual tranquillity, and peaceably enters hishouse, with a confused remembrance of what he has just experienced. The fourth act of the "Huguenots, " which formerly lasted sixhours, began, on this evening at half-past four, and ended attwelve minutes before five. It had only lasted eighteen minutes! CHAPTER VIII. IN WHICH THE ANCIENT AND SOLEMN GERMAN WALTZ BECOMES A WHIRLWIND. But if the spectators, on leaving the theatre, resumed theircustomary calm, if they quietly regained their homes, preservingonly a sort of passing stupefaction, they had none the lessundergone a remarkable exaltation, and overcome and weary as ifthey had committed some excess of dissipation, they fell heavilyupon their beds. The next day each Quiquendonian had a kind of recollection ofwhat had occurred the evening before. One missed his hat, lost inthe hubbub; another a coat-flap, torn in the brawl; one herdelicately fashioned shoe, another her best mantle. Memoryreturned to these worthy people, and with it a certain shame fortheir unjustifiable agitation. It seemed to them an orgy in whichthey were the unconscious heroes and heroines. They did not speakof it; they did not wish to think of it. But the most astoundedpersonage in the town was Van Tricasse the burgomaster. The next morning, on waking, he could not find his wig. Lotchèlooked everywhere for it, but in vain. The wig had remained onthe field of battle. As for having it publicly claimed by JeanMistrol, the town-crier, --no, it would not do. It were better tolose the wig than to advertise himself thus, as he had the honourto be the first magistrate of Quiquendone. The worthy Van Tricasse was reflecting upon this, extendedbeneath his sheets, with bruised body, heavy head, furred tongue, and burning breast. He felt no desire to get up; on the contrary;and his brain worked more during this morning than it hadprobably worked before for forty years. The worthy magistraterecalled to his mind all the incidents of the incomprehensibleperformance. He connected them with the events which had takenplace shortly before at Doctor Ox's reception. He tried todiscover the causes of the singular excitability which, on twooccasions, had betrayed itself in the best citizens of the town. "What _can_ be going on?" he asked himself. "What giddy spirithas taken possession of my peaceable town of Quiquendone? Are weabout to go mad, and must we make the town one vast asylum? Foryesterday we were all there, notables, counsellors, judges, advocates, physicians, schoolmasters; and ail, if my memoryserves me, --all of us were assailed by this excess of furiousfolly! But what was there in that infernal music? It isinexplicable! Yet I certainly ate or drank nothing which couldput me into such a state. No; yesterday I had for dinner a sliceof overdone veal, several spoonfuls of spinach with sugar, eggs, and a little beer and water, --that couldn't get into my head! No!There is something that I cannot explain, and as, after all, I amresponsible for the conduct of the citizens, I will have aninvestigation. " But the investigation, though decided upon by the municipalcouncil, produced no result. If the facts were clear, the causesescaped the sagacity of the magistrates. Besides, tranquillityhad been restored in the public mind, and with tranquillity, forgetfulness of the strange scenes of the theatre. Thenewspapers avoided speaking of them, and the account of theperformance which appeared in the "Quiquendone Memorial, " made noallusion to this intoxication of the entire audience. Meanwhile, though the town resumed its habitual phlegm, andbecame apparently Flemish as before, it was observable that, atbottom, the character and temperament of the people changedlittle by little. One might have truly said, with DominiqueCustos, the doctor, that "their nerves were affected. " Let us explain. This undoubted change only took place undercertain conditions. When the Quiquendonians passed through thestreets of the town, walked in the squares or along the Vaar, they were always the cold and methodical people of former days. So, too, when they remained at home, some working with theirhands and others with their heads, --these doing nothing, thosethinking nothing, --their private life was silent, inert, vegetating as before. No quarrels, no household squabbles, noacceleration in the beating of the heart, no excitement of thebrain. The mean of their pulsations remained as it was of old, from fifty to fifty-two per minute. But, strange and inexplicable phenomenon though it was, whichwould have defied the sagacity of the most ingenious physiologistsof the day, if the inhabitants of Quiquendone did not change intheir home life, they were visibly changed in their civil lifeand in their relations between man and man, to which it leads. If they met together in some public edifice, it did not "workwell, " as Commissary Passauf expressed it. On 'change, at thetown-hall, in the amphitheatre of the academy, at the sessions ofthe council, as well as at the reunions of the _savants_, astrange excitement seized the assembled citizens. Their relationswith each other became embarrassing before they had been togetheran hour. In two hours the discussion degenerated into an angrydispute. Heads became heated, and personalities were used. Evenat church, during the sermon, the faithful could not listen toVan Stabel, the minister, in patience, and he threw himself aboutin the pulpit and lectured his flock with far more than his usualseverity. At last this state of things brought about altercationsmore grave, alas! than that between Gustos and Schut, and if theydid not require the interference of the authorities, it wasbecause the antagonists, after returning home, found there, withits calm, forgetfulness of the offences offered and received. This peculiarity could not be observed by these minds, which wereabsolutely incapable of recognizing what was passing in them. Oneperson only in the town, he whose office the council had thoughtof suppressing for thirty years, Michael Passauf, had remarkedthat this excitement, which was absent from private houses, quickly revealed itself in public edifices; and he asked himself, not without a certain anxiety, what would happen if thisinfection should ever develop itself in the family mansions, andif the epidemic--this was the word he used--should extendthrough the streets of the town. Then there would be no moreforgetfulness of insults, no more tranquillity, no intermissionin the delirium; but a permanent inflammation, which wouldinevitably bring the Quiquendonians into collision with eachother. "What would happen then?" Commissary Passauf asked himself interror. "How could these furious savages be arrested? How checkthese goaded temperaments? My office would be no longer asinecure, and the council would be obliged to double my salary--unless it should arrest me myself, for disturbing the publicpeace!" These very reasonable fears began to be realized. The infectionspread from 'change, the theatre, the church, the town-hall, theacademy, the market, into private houses, and that in less than afortnight after the terrible performance of the "Huguenots. " Its first symptoms appeared in the house of Collaert, the banker. That wealthy personage gave a ball, or at least a dancing-party, to the notabilities of the town. He had issued, some monthsbefore, a loan of thirty thousand francs, three quarters of whichhad been subscribed; and to celebrate this financial success, hehad opened his drawing-rooms, and given a party to his fellow-citizens. Everybody knows that Flemish parties are innocent and tranquilenough, the principal expense of which is usually in beer andsyrups. Some conversation on the weather, the appearance of thecrops, the fine condition of the gardens, the care of flowers, and especially of tulips; a slow and measured dance, from time totime, perhaps a minuet; sometimes a waltz, but one of thoseGerman waltzes which achieve a turn and a half per minute, andduring which the dancers hold each other as far apart as theirarms will permit, --such is the usual fashion of the ballsattended by the aristocratic society of Quiquendone. The polka, after being altered to four time, had tried to become accustomedto it; but the dancers always lagged behind the orchestra, nomatter how slow the measure, and it had to be abandoned. These peaceable reunions, in which the youths and maidens enjoyedan honest and moderate pleasure, had never been attended by anyoutburst of ill-nature. Why, then, on this evening at Collaertthe banker's, did the syrups seem to be transformed into headywines, into sparkling champagne, into heating punches? Why, towards the middle of the evening, did a sort of mysteriousintoxication take possession of the guests? Why did the minuetbecome a jig? Why did the orchestra hurry with its harmonies? Whydid the candles, just as at the theatre, burn with unwontedrefulgence? What electric current invaded the banker's drawing-rooms?How happened it that the couples held each other so closely, andclasped each other's hands so convulsively, that the "cavaliers seuls"made themselves conspicuous by certain extraordinary steps in thatfigure usually so grave, so solemn, so majestic, so very proper? Alas! what OEdipus could have answered these unsolvablequestions? Commissary Passauf, who was present at the party, sawthe storm coming distinctly, but he could not control it or flyfrom it, and he felt a kind of intoxication entering his ownbrain. All his physical and emotional faculties increased inintensity. He was seen, several times, to throw himself upon theconfectionery and devour the dishes, as if he had just broken along fast. The animation of the ball was increasing all this while. A longmurmur, like a dull buzzing, escaped from all breasts. Theydanced--really danced. The feet were agitated by increasingfrenzy. The faces became as purple as those of Silenus. The eyesshone like carbuncles. The general fermentation rose to thehighest pitch. And when the orchestra thundered out the waltz in "DerFreyschütz, "--when this waltz, so German, and with a movement soslow, was attacked with wild arms by the musicians, --ah! it wasno longer a waltz, but an insensate whirlwind, a giddy rotation, a gyration worthy of being led by some Mephistopheles, beatingthe measure with a firebrand! Then a galop, an infernal galop, which lasted an hour without any one being able to stop it, whirled off, in its windings, across the halls, the drawing-rooms, the antechambers, by the staircases, from the cellar to the garret ofthe opulent mansion, the young men and young girls, the fathers andmothers, people of every age, of every weight, of both sexes;Collaert, the fat banker, and Madame Collaert, and the counsellors, and the magistrates, and the chief justice, and Niklausse, and MadameVan Tricasse, and the Burgomaster Van Tricasse, and the CommissaryPassauf himself, who never could recall afterwards who had been hispartner on that terrible evening. [Illustration: it was no longer a waltz] But she did not forget! And ever since that day she has seen inher dreams the fiery commissary, enfolding her in an impassionedembrace! And "she"--was the amiable Tatanémance! CHAPTER IX. IN WHICH DOCTOR OX AND YGÈNE, HIS ASSISTANT, SAY A FEW WORDS. "Well, Ygène?" "Well, master, all is ready. The laying of the pipes isfinished. " "At last! Now, then, we are going to operate on a large scale, onthe masses!" CHAPTER X. IN WHICH IT WILL BE SEEN THAT THE EPIDEMIC INVADES THE ENTIRE TOWN, AND WHAT EFFECT IT PRODUCES. During the following months the evil, in place of subsiding, became more extended. From private houses the epidemic spreadinto the streets. The town of Quiquendone was no longer to berecognized. A phenomenon yet stranger than those which had already happened, now appeared; not only the animal kingdom, but the vegetablekingdom itself, became subject to the mysterious influence. According to the ordinary course of things, epidemics are specialin their operation. Those which attack humanity spare theanimals, and those which attack the animals spare the vegetables. A horse was never inflicted with smallpox, nor a man with thecattle-plague, nor do sheep suffer from the potato-rot. But hereall the laws of nature seemed to be overturned. Not only were thecharacter, temperament, and ideas of the townsfolk changed, butthe domestic animals--dogs and cats, horses and cows, asses andgoats--suffered from this epidemic influence, as if theirhabitual equilibrium had been changed. The plants themselves wereinfected by a similar strange metamorphosis. In the gardens and vegetable patches and orchards very curioussymptoms manifested themselves. Climbing plants climbed moreaudaciously. Tufted plants became more tufted than ever. Shrubsbecame trees. Cereals, scarcely sown, showed their little greenheads, and gained, in the same length of time, as much in inchesas formerly, under the most favourable circumstances, they hadgained in fractions. Asparagus attained the height of severalfeet; the artichokes swelled to the size of melons, the melons tothe size of pumpkins, the pumpkins to the size of gourds, thegourds to the size of the belfry bell, which measured, in truth, nine feet in diameter. The cabbages were bushes, and themushrooms umbrellas. The fruits did not lag behind the vegetables. It required twopersons to eat a strawberry, and four to consume a pear. Thegrapes also attained the enormous proportions of those so welldepicted by Poussin in his "Return of the Envoys to the PromisedLand. " [Illustration: It required two persons to eat a strawberry] It was the same with the flowers: immense violets spread the mostpenetrating perfumes through the air; exaggerated roses shonewith the brightest colours; lilies formed, in a few days, impenetrable copses; geraniums, daisies, camelias, rhododendrons, invaded the garden walks, and stifled each other. And thetulips, --those dear liliaceous plants so dear to the Flemishheart, what emotion they must have caused to their zealouscultivators! The worthy Van Bistrom nearly fell over backwards, one day, on seeing in his garden an enormous "Tulipa gesneriana, "a gigantic monster, whose cup afforded space to a nest for awhole family of robins! The entire town flocked to see this floral phenomenon, andrenamed it the "Tulipa quiquendonia". But alas! if these plants, these fruits, these flowers, grewvisibly to the naked eye, if all the vegetables insisted onassuming colossal proportions, if the brilliancy of their coloursand perfume intoxicated the smell and the sight, they quicklywithered. The air which they absorbed rapidly exhausted them, andthey soon died, faded, and dried up. Such was the fate of the famous tulip, which, after several daysof splendour, became emaciated, and fell lifeless. It was soon the same with the domestic animals, from the house-dogto the stable pig, from the canary in its cage to the turkeyof the back-court. It must be said that in ordinary times theseanimals were not less phlegmatic than their masters. The dogs andcats vegetated rather than lived. They never betrayed a wag ofpleasure nor a snarl of wrath. Their tails moved no more than ifthey had been made of bronze. Such a thing as a bite or scratchfrom any of them had not been known from time immemorial. As formad dogs, they were looked upon as imaginary beasts, like thegriffins and the rest in the menagerie of the apocalypse. But what a change had taken place in a few months, the smallestincidents of which we are trying to reproduce! Dogs and catsbegan to show teeth and claws. Several executions had taken placeafter reiterated offences. A horse was seen, for the first time, to take his bit in his teeth and rush through the streets ofQuiquendone; an ox was observed to precipitate itself, withlowered horns, upon one of his herd; an ass was seen to turnhimself ever, with his legs in the air, in the Place SaintErnuph, and bray as ass never brayed before; a sheep, actually asheep, defended valiantly the cutlets within him from thebutcher's knife. Van Tricasse, the burgomaster, was forced to make policeregulations concerning the domestic animals, as, seized withlunacy, they rendered the streets of Quiquendone unsafe. But alas! if the animals were mad, the men were scarcely less so. No age was spared by the scourge. Babies soon became quiteinsupportable, though till now so easy to bring up; and for thefirst time Honoré Syntax, the judge, was obliged to apply the rodto his youthful offspring. There was a kind of insurrection at the high school, and thedictionaries became formidable missiles in the classes. Thescholars would not submit to be shut in, and, besides, theinfection took the teachers themselves, who overwhelmed the boysand girls with extravagant tasks and punishments. Another strange phenomenon occurred. All these Quiquendonians, sosober before, whose chief food had been whipped creams, committedwild excesses in their eating and drinking. Their usual regimenno longer sufficed. Each stomach was transformed into a gulf, andit became necessary to fill this gulf by the most energeticmeans. The consumption of the town was trebled. Instead of tworepasts they had six. Many cases of indigestion were reported. The Counsellor Niklausse could not satisfy his hunger. VanTricasse found it impossible to assuage his thirst, and remainedin a state of rabid semi-intoxication. In short, the most alarming symptoms manifested themselves andincreased from day to day. Drunken people staggered in thestreets, and these were often citizens of high position. Dominique Custos, the physician, had plenty to do with theheartburns, inflammations, and nervous affections, which provedto what a strange degree the nerves of the people had beenirritated. There were daily quarrels and altercations in the once desertedbut now crowded streets of Quiquendone; for nobody could anylonger stay at home. It was necessary to establish a new policeforce to control the disturbers of the public peace. A prison-cagewas established in the Town Hall, and speedily became full, night and day, of refractory offenders. Commissary Passauf was indespair. A marriage was concluded in less than two months, --such a thinghad never been seen before. Yes, the son of Rupp, the schoolmaster, wedded the daughter of Augustine de Rovere, and that fifty-sevendays only after he had petitioned for her hand and heart! Other marriages were decided upon, which, in old times, wouldhave remained in doubt and discussion for years. The burgomasterperceived that his own daughter, the charming Suzel, was escapingfrom his hands. As for dear Tatanémance, she had dared to sound CommissaryPassauf on the subject of a union, which seemed to her to combineevery element of happiness, fortune, honour, youth! At last, --to reach the depths of abomination, --a duel took place!Yes, a duel with pistols--horse-pistols--at seventy-five paces, with ball-cartridges. And between whom? Our readers will neverbelieve! Between M. Frantz Niklausse, the gentle angler, and young SimonCollaert, the wealthy banker's son. And the cause of this duel was the burgomaster's daughter, forwhom Simon discovered himself to be fired with passion, and whomhe refused to yield to the claims of an audacious rival! CHAPTER XI. IN WHICH THE QUIQUENDONIANS ADOPT A HEROIC RESOLUTION. We have seen to what a deplorable condition the people ofQuiquendone were reduced. Their heads were in a ferment. They nolonger knew or recognized themselves. The most peaceable citizenshad become quarrelsome. If you looked at them askance, they wouldspeedily send you a challenge. Some let their moustaches grow, and several--the most belligerent--curled them up at the ends. This being their condition, the administration of the town andthe maintenance of order in the streets became difficult tasks, for the government had not been organized for such a state ofthings. The burgomaster--that worthy Van Tricasse whom we haveseen so placid, so dull, so incapable of coming to any decision--the burgomaster became intractable. His house resounded with thesharpness of his voice. He made twenty decisions a day, scoldinghis officials, and himself enforcing the regulations of hisadministration. Ah, what a change! The amiable and tranquil mansion of theburgomaster, that good Flemish home--where was its former calm?What changes had taken place in your household economy! MadameVan Tricasse had become acrid, whimsical, harsh. Her husbandsometimes succeeded in drowning her voice by talking louder thanshe, but could not silence her. The petulant humour of thisworthy dame was excited by everything. Nothing went right. Theservants offended her every moment. Tatanémance, her sister-in-law, who was not less irritable, replied sharply to her. M. VanTricasse naturally supported Lotchè, his servant, as is the casein all good households; and this permanently exasperated Madame, who constantly disputed, discussed, and made scenes with herhusband. "What on earth is the matter with us?" cried the unhappyburgomaster. "What is this fire that is devouring us? Are wepossessed with the devil? Ah, Madame Van Tricasse, Madame VanTricasse, you will end by making me die before you, and thusviolate all the traditions of the family!" The reader will not have forgotten the strange custom by which M. Van Tricasse would become a widower and marry again, so as not tobreak the chain of descent. Meanwhile, this disposition of all minds produced other curiouseffects worthy of note. This excitement, the cause of which hasso far escaped us, brought about unexpected physiologicalchanges. Talents, hitherto unrecognized, betrayed themselves. Aptitudes were suddenly revealed. Artists, before common-place, displayed new ability. Politicians and authors arose. Oratorsproved themselves equal to the most arduous debates, and on everyquestion inflamed audiences which were quite ready to beinflamed. From the sessions of the council, this movement spreadto the public political meetings, and a club was formed atQuiquendone; whilst twenty newspapers, the "Quiquendone Signal, "the "Quiquendone Impartial, " the "Quiquendone Radical, " and soon, written in an inflammatory style, raised the most importantquestions. But what about? you will ask. Apropos of everything, and ofnothing; apropos of the Oudenarde tower, which was falling, andwhich some wished to pull down, and others to prop up; apropos ofthe police regulations issued by the council, which someobstinate citizens threatened to resist; apropos of the sweepingof the gutters, repairing the sewers, and so on. Nor did theenraged orators confine themselves to the internal administrationof the town. Carried on by the current they went further, andessayed to plunge their fellow-citizens into the hazards of war. Quiquendone had had for eight or nine hundred years a _casusbelli_ of the best quality; but she had preciously laid it uplike a relic, and there had seemed some probability that it wouldbecome effete, and no longer serviceable. This was what had given rise to the _casus belli_. It is not generally known that Quiquendone, in this cosy cornerof Flanders, lies next to the little town of Virgamen. Theterritories of the two communities are contiguous. Well, in 1185, some time before Count Baldwin's departure to theCrusades, a Virgamen cow--not a cow belonging to a citizen, but acow which was common property, let it be observed--audaciouslyventured to pasture on the territory of Quiquendone. Thisunfortunate beast had scarcely eaten three mouthfuls; but theoffence, the abuse, the crime--whatever you will--was committedand duly indicted, for the magistrates, at that time, had alreadybegun to know how to write. "We will take revenge at the proper moment, " said simply NatalisVan Tricasse, the thirty-second predecessor of the burgomaster ofthis story, "and the Virgamenians will lose nothing by waiting. " The Virgamenians were forewarned. They waited thinking, withoutdoubt, that the remembrance of the offence would fade away withthe lapse of time; and really, for several centuries, they livedon good terms with their neighbours of Quiquendone. But they counted without their hosts, or rather without thisstrange epidemic, which, radically changing the character of theQuiquendonians, aroused their dormant vengeance. It was at the club of the Rue Monstrelet that the truculentorator Schut, abruptly introducing the subject to his hearers, inflamed them with the expressions and metaphors used on suchoccasions. He recalled the offence, the injury which had beendone to Quiquendone, and which a nation "jealous of its rights"could not admit as a precedent; he showed the insult to be stillexisting, the wound still bleeding: he spoke of certain specialhead-shakings on the part of the people of Virgamen, whichindicated in what degree of contempt they regarded the people ofQuiquendone; he appealed to his fellow-citizens, who, unconsciouslyperhaps, had supported this mortal insult for long centuries; headjured the "children of the ancient town" to have no other purposethan to obtain a substantial reparation. And, lastly, he made anappeal to "all the living energies of the nation!" With what enthusiasm these words, so new to Quiquendonian ears, were greeted, may be surmised, but cannot be told. All theauditors rose, and with extended arms demanded war with loudcries. Never had the Advocate Schut achieved such a success, andit must be avowed that his triumphs were not few. The burgomaster, the counsellor, all the notabilities present atthis memorable meeting, would have vainly attempted to resist thepopular outburst. Besides, they had no desire to do so, and criedas loud, if not louder, than the rest, -- "To the frontier! To the frontier!" As the frontier was but three kilometers from the walls ofQuiquendone, it is certain that the Virgamenians ran a realdanger, for they might easily be invaded without having had timeto look about them. Meanwhile, Josse Liefrinck, the worthy chemist, who alone hadpreserved his senses on this grave occasion, tried to make hisfellow-citizens comprehend that guns, cannon, and generals wereequally wanting to their design. They replied to him, not without many impatient gestures, thatthese generals, cannons, and guns would be improvised; that theright and love of country sufficed, and rendered a peopleirresistible. Hereupon the burgomaster himself came forward, and in a sublimeharangue made short work of those pusillanimous people whodisguise their fear under a veil of prudence, which veil he toreoff with a patriotic hand. At this sally it seemed as if the hall would fall in under theapplause. The vote was eagerly demanded, and was taken amid acclamations. The cries of "To Virgamen! to Virgamen!" redoubled. [Illustration: "To Virgamen! to Virgamen!"] The burgomaster then took it upon himself to put the armies inmotion, and in the name of the town he promised the honours of atriumph, such as was given in the times of the Romans to that oneof its generals who should return victorious. Meanwhile, Josse Liefrinck, who was an obstinate fellow, and didnot regard himself as beaten, though he really had been, insistedon making another observation. He wished to remark that thetriumph was only accorded at Rome to those victorious generalswho had killed five thousand of the enemy. "Well, well!" cried the meeting deliriously. "And as the population of the town of Virgamen consists of butthree thousand five hundred and seventy-five inhabitants, itwould be difficult, unless the same person was killed severaltimes--" But they did not let the luckless logician finish, and he wasturned out, hustled and bruised. "Citizens, " said Pulmacher the grocer, who usually sold groceriesby retail, "whatever this cowardly apothecary may have said, Iengage by myself to kill five thousand Virgamenians, if you willaccept my services!" "Five thousand five hundred!" cried a yet more resolute patriot. "Six thousand six hundred!" retorted the grocer. "Seven thousand!" cried Jean Orbideck, the confectioner of theRue Hemling, who was on the road to a fortune by making whippedcreams. "Adjudged!" exclaimed the burgomaster Van Tricasse, on findingthat no one else rose on the bid. And this was how Jean Orbideck the confectioner becamegeneral-in-chief of the forces of Quiquendone. CHAPTER XII. IN WHICH YGÈNE, THE ASSISTANT, GIVES A REASONABLE PIECE OF ADVICE, WHICH IS EAGERLY REJECTED BY DOCTOR OX. "Well, master, " said Ygène next day, as he poured the pails ofsulphuric acid into the troughs of the great battery. "Well, " resumed Doctor Ox, "was I not right? See to what not onlythe physical developments of a whole nation, but its morality, its dignity, its talents, its political sense, have come! It isonly a question of molecules. " "No doubt; but--" "But--" "Do you not think that matters have gone far enough, and thatthese poor devils should not be excited beyond measure?" "No, no!" cried the doctor; "no! I will go on to the end!" "As you will, master; the experiment, however, seems to meconclusive, and I think it time to--" "To--" "To close the valve. " "You'd better!" cried Doctor Ox. "If you attempt it, I'llthrottle you!" CHAPTER XIII. IN WHICH IT IS ONCE MORE PROVED THAT BY TAKING HIGH GROUND ALL HUMANLITTLENESSES MAY BE OVERLOOKED. "You say?" asked the Burgomaster Van Tricasse of the CounsellorNiklausse. "I say that this war is necessary, " replied Niklausse, firmly, "and that the time has come to avenge this insult. " "Well, I repeat to you, " replied the burgomaster, tartly, "thatif the people of Quiquendone do not profit by this occasion tovindicate their rights, they will be unworthy of their name. " "And as for me, I maintain that we ought, without delay, tocollect our forces and lead them to the front. " "Really, monsieur, really!" replied Van Tricasse. "And do youspeak thus to _me_?" "To yourself, monsieur the burgomaster; and you shall hear thetruth, unwelcome as it may be. " "And you shall hear it yourself, counsellor, " returned VanTricasse in a passion, "for it will come better from my mouththan from yours! Yes, monsieur, yes, any delay would bedishonourable. The town of Quiquendone has waited nine hundredyears for the moment to take its revenge, and whatever you maysay, whether it pleases you or not, we shall march upon theenemy. " "Ah, you take it thus!" replied Niklausse harshly. "Very well, monsieur, we will march without you, if it does not please you togo. " "A burgomaster's place is in the front rank, monsieur!" [Illustration: "A burgomaster's place is in the front rank, monsieur!"] "And that of a counsellor also, monsieur. " "You insult me by thwarting all my wishes, " cried theburgomaster, whose fists seemed likely to hit out before long. "And you insult me equally by doubting my patriotism, " criedNiklausse, who was equally ready for a tussle. "I tell you, monsieur, that the army of Quiquendone shall be putin motion within two days!" "And I repeat to you, monsieur, that forty-eight hours shall notpass before we shall have marched upon the enemy!" It is easy to see, from this fragment of conversation, that thetwo speakers supported exactly the same idea. Both wished forhostilities; but as their excitement disposed them to altercation, Niklausse would not listen to Van Tricasse, nor Van Tricasse toNiklausse. Had they been of contrary opinions on this gravequestion, had the burgomaster favoured war and the counsellorinsisted on peace, the quarrel would not have been more violent. These two old friends gazed fiercely at each other. By thequickened beating of their hearts, their red faces, theircontracted pupils, the trembling of their muscles, their harshvoices, it might be conjectured that they were ready to come toblows. But the striking of a large clock happily checked the adversariesat the moment when they seemed on the point of assaulting eachother. "At last the hour has come!" cried the burgomaster. "What hour?" asked the counsellor. "The hour to go to the belfry tower. " "It is true, and whether it pleases you or not, I shall go, monsieur. " "And I too. " "Let us go!" "Let us go!" It might have been supposed from these last words that acollision had occurred, and that the adversaries were proceedingto a duel; but it was not so. It had been agreed that theburgomaster and the counsellor, as the two principal dignitariesof the town, should repair to the Town Hall, and there showthemselves on the high tower which overlooked Quiquendone; thatthey should examine the surrounding country, so as to make thebest strategetic plan for the advance of their troops. Though they were in accord on this subject, they did not cease toquarrel bitterly as they went. Their loud voices were heardresounding in the streets; but all the passers-by were nowaccustomed to this; the exasperation of the dignitaries seemedquite natural, and no one took notice of it. Under the circumstances, a calm man would have been regarded as a monster. The burgomaster and the counsellor, having reached the porch ofthe belfry, were in a paroxysm of fury. They were no longer red, but pale. This terrible discussion, though they had the sameidea, had produced internal spasms, and every one knows thatpaleness shows that anger has reached its last limits. At the foot of the narrow tower staircase there was a realexplosion. Who should go up first? Who should first creep up thewinding steps? Truth compels us to say that there was a tussle, and that the Counsellor Niklausse, forgetful of all that he owedto his superior, to the supreme magistrate of the town, pushedVan Tricasse violently back, and dashed up the staircase first. Both ascended, denouncing and raging at each other at every step. It was to be feared that a terrible climax would occur on thesummit of the tower, which rose three hundred and fifty-sevenfeet above the pavement. The two enemies soon got out of breath, however, and in a littlewhile, at the eightieth step, they began to move up heavily, breathing loud and short. Then--was it because of their being out of breath?--their wrathsubsided, or at least only betrayed itself by a succession ofunseemly epithets. They became silent, and, strange to say, itseemed as if their excitement diminished as they ascended higherabove the town. A sort of lull took place in their minds. Theirbrains became cooler, and simmered down like a coffee-pot whentaken away from the fire. Why? We cannot answer this "why;" but the truth is that, havingreached a certain landing-stage, two hundred and sixty-six feetabove ground, the two adversaries sat down and, really more calm, looked at each other without any anger in their faces. "How high it is!" said the burgomaster, passing his handkerchiefover his rubicund face. "Very high!" returned the counsellor. "Do you know that we havegone fourteen feet higher than the Church of Saint Michael atHamburg?" "I know it, " replied the burgomaster, in a tone of vanity verypardonable in the chief magistrate of Quiquendone. The two notabilities soon resumed their ascent, casting curiousglances through the loopholes pierced in the tower walls. Theburgomaster had taken the head of the procession, without anyremark on the part of the counsellor. It even happened that atabout the three hundred and fourth step, Van Tricasse beingcompletely tired out, Niklausse kindly pushed him from behind. The burgomaster offered no resistance to this, and, when hereached the platform of the tower, said graciously, -- "Thanks, Niklausse; I will do the same for you one day. " A little while before it had been two wild beasts, ready to teareach other to pieces, who had presented themselves at the foot ofthe tower; it was now two friends who reached its summit. The weather was superb. It was the month of May. The sun hadabsorbed all the vapours. What a pure and limpid atmosphere! Themost minute objects over a broad space might be discerned. Thewalls of Virgamen, glistening in their whiteness, --its red, pointed roofs, its belfries shining in the sunlight--appeared afew miles off. And this was the town that was foredoomed to allthe horrors of fire and pillage! The burgomaster and the counsellor sat down beside each other ona small stone bench, like two worthy people whose souls were inclose sympathy. As they recovered breath, they looked around;then, after a brief silence, -- "How fine this is!" cried the burgomaster. "Yes, it is admirable!" replied the counsellor. "Does it notseem to you, my good Van Tricasse, that humanity is destined todwell rather at such heights, than to crawl about on the surfaceof our globe?" "I agree with you, honest Niklausse, " returned the burgomaster, "I agree with you. You seize sentiment better when you get clearof nature. You breathe it in every sense! It is at such heightsthat philosophers should be formed, and that sages should live, above the miseries of this world!" "Shall we go around the platform?" asked the counsellor. "Let us go around the platform, " replied the burgomaster. And the two friends, arm in arm, and putting, as formerly, longpauses between their questions and answers, examined every pointof the horizon. [Illustration: The two friends, arm in arm] "It is at least seventeen years since I have ascended the belfrytower, " said Van Tricasse. "I do not think I ever came up before, " replied Niklausse; "and Iregret it, for the view from this height is sublime! Do you see, my friend, the pretty stream of the Vaar, as it winds among thetrees?" "And, beyond, the heights of Saint Hermandad! How gracefully theyshut in the horizon! Observe that border of green trees, whichNature has so picturesquely arranged! Ah, Nature, Nature, Niklausse! Could the hand of man ever hope to rival her?" "It is enchanting, my excellent friend, " replied the counsellor. "See the flocks and herds lying in the verdant pastures, --theoxen, the cows, the sheep!" "And the labourers going to the fields! You would say they wereArcadian shepherds; they only want a bagpipe!" "And over all this fertile country the beautiful blue sky, whichno vapour dims! Ah, Niklausse, one might become a poet here! I donot understand why Saint Simeon Stylites was not one of thegreatest poets of the world. " "It was because, perhaps, his column was not high enough, "replied the counsellor, with a gentle smile. At this moment the chimes of Quiquendone rang out. The clearbells played one of their most melodious airs. The two friendslistened in ecstasy. Then in his calm voice, Van Tricasse said, -- "But what, friend Niklausse, did we come to the top of this towerto do?" "In fact, " replied the counsellor, "we have permitted ourselvesto be carried away by our reveries--" "What did we come here to do?" repeated the burgomaster. "We came, " said Niklausse, "to breathe this pure air, which humanweaknesses have not corrupted. " "Well, shall we descend, friend Niklausse?" "Let us descend, friend Van Tricasse. " They gave a parting glance at the splendid panorama which wasspread before their eyes; then the burgomaster passed down first, and began to descend with a slow and measured pace. Thecounsellor followed a few steps behind. They reached the landing-stageat which they had stopped on ascending. Already their cheeks began toredden. They tarried a moment, then resumed their descent. In a few moments Van Tricasse begged Niklausse to go more slowly, as he felt him on his heels, and it "worried him. " It even didmore than worry him; for twenty steps lower down he ordered thecounsellor to stop, that he might get on some distance ahead. The counsellor replied that he did not wish to remain with hisleg in the air to await the good pleasure of the burgomaster, andkept on. Van Tricasse retorted with a rude expression. The counsellor responded by an insulting allusion to theburgomaster's age, destined as he was, by his family traditions, to marry a second time. The burgomaster went down twenty steps more, and warned Niklaussethat this should not pass thus. Niklausse replied that, at all events, he would pass down first;and, the space being very narrow, the two dignitaries came intocollision, and found themselves in utter darkness. The words"blockhead" and "booby" were the mildest which they now appliedto each other. "We shall see, stupid beast!" cried the burgomaster, --"we shallsee what figure you will make in this war, and in what rank youwill march!" "In the rank that precedes yours, you silly old fool!" repliedNiklausse. Then there were other cries, and it seemed as if bodies wererolling over each other. What was going on? Why were thesedispositions so quickly changed? Why were the gentle sheep of thetower's summit metamorphosed into tigers two hundred feet belowit? However this might be, the guardian of the tower, hearing thenoise, opened the door, just at the moment when the twoadversaries, bruised, and with protruding eyes, were in the actof tearing each other's hair, --fortunately they wore wigs. "You shall give me satisfaction for this!" cried the burgomaster, shaking his fist under his adversary's nose. "Whenever you please!" growled the Counsellor Niklausse, attempting to respond with a vigorous kick. The guardian, who was himself in a passion, --I cannot say why, --thought the scene a very natural one. I know not what excitementurged him to take part in it, but he controlled himself, and wentoff to announce throughout the neighbourhood that a hostilemeeting was about to take place between the Burgomaster VanTricasse and the Counsellor Niklausse. CHAPTER XIV. IN WHICH MATTERS GO SO FAR THAT THE INHABITANTS OF QUIQUENDONE, THE READER, AND EVEN THE AUTHOR, DEMAND AN IMMEDIATE DÉNOUEMENT. The last incident proves to what a pitch of excitement theQuiquendonians had been wrought. The two oldest friends in thetown, and the most gentle--before the advent of the epidemic, toreach this degree of violence! And that, too, only a few minutesafter their old mutual sympathy, their amiable instincts, theircontemplative habit, had been restored at the summit of thetower! On learning what was going on, Doctor Ox could not contain hisjoy. He resisted the arguments which Ygène, who saw what aserious turn affairs were taking, addressed to him. Besides, bothof them were infected by the general fury. They were not lessexcited than the rest of the population, and they ended byquarrelling as violently as the burgomaster and the counsellor. Besides, one question eclipsed all others, and the intended duelswere postponed to the issue of the Virgamenian difficulty. No manhad the right to shed his blood uselessly, when it belonged, tothe last drop, to his country in danger. The affair was, inshort, a grave one, and there was no withdrawing from it. The Burgomaster Van Tricasse, despite the warlike ardour withwhich he was filled, had not thought it best to throw himselfupon the enemy without warning him. He had, therefore, throughthe medium of the rural policeman, Hottering, sent to demandreparation of the Virgamenians for the offence committed, in1195, on the Quiquendonian territory. The authorities of Virgamen could not at first imagine of whatthe envoy spoke, and the latter, despite his official character, was conducted back to the frontier very cavalierly. Van Tricasse then sent one of the aides-de-camp of theconfectioner-general, citizen Hildevert Shuman, a manufacturer ofbarley-sugar, a very firm and energetic man, who carried to theauthorities of Virgamen the original minute of the indictmentdrawn up in 1195 by order of the Burgomaster Natalís VanTricasse. The authorities of Virgamen burst out laughing, and served theaide-de-camp in the same manner as the rural policeman. The burgomaster then assembled the dignitaries of the town. A letter, remarkably and vigorously drawn up, was written as anultimatum; the cause of quarrel was plainly stated, and a delayof twenty-four hours was accorded to the guilty city in which torepair the outrage done to Quiquendone. The letter was sent off, and returned a few hours afterwards, torn to bits, which made so many fresh insults. The Virgameniansknew of old the forbearance and equanimity of the Quiquendonians, and made sport of them and their demand, of their _casus belli_and their _ultimatum_. There was only one thing left to do, --to have recourse to arms, to invoke the God of battles, and, after the Prussian fashion, tohurl themselves upon the Virgamenians Before the latter could beprepared. This decision was made by the council in solemn conclave, inwhich cries, objurgations, and menacing gestures were mingledwith unexampled violence. An assembly of idiots, a congress ofmadmen, a club of maniacs, would not have been more tumultuous. As soon as the declaration of war was known, General JeanOrbideck assembled his troops, perhaps two thousand three hundredand ninety-three combatants from a population of two thousandthree hundred and ninety-three souls. The women, the children, the old men, were joined with the able-bodied males. The guns ofthe town had been put under requisition. Five had been found, twoof which were without cocks, and these had been distributed tothe advance-guard. The artillery was composed of the old culverinof the château, taken in 1339 at the attack on Quesnoy, one ofthe first occasions of the use of cannon in history, and whichhad not been fired off for five centuries. Happily for those whowere appointed to take it in charge there were no projectileswith which to load it; but such as it was, this engine might wellimpose on the enemy. As for side-arms, they had been taken fromthe museum of antiquities, --flint hatchets, helmets, Frankishbattle-axes, javelins, halberds, rapiers, and so on; and also inthose domestic arsenals commonly known as "cupboards" and"kitchens. " But courage, the right, hatred of the foreigner, theyearning for vengeance, were to take the place of more perfectengines, and to replace--at least it was hoped so--the modernmitrailleuses and breech-loaders. The troops were passed in review. Not a citizen failed at theroll-call. General Orbideck, whose seat on horseback was far fromfirm, and whose steed was a vicious beast, was thrown three timesin front of the army; but he got up again without injury, andthis was regarded as a favourable omen. The burgomaster, thecounsellor, the civil commissary, the chief justice, theschool-teacher, the banker, the rector, --in short, all thenotabilities of the town, --marched at the head. There were no tearsshed, either by mothers, sisters, or daughters. They urged on theirhusbands, fathers, brothers, to the combat, and even followedthem and formed the rear-guard, under the orders of thecourageous Madame Van Tricasse. The crier, Jean Mistrol, blew his trumpet; the army moved off, and directed itself, with ferocious cries, towards the Oudenardegate. ****** At the moment when the head of the column was about to pass thewalls of the town, a man threw himself before it. "Stop! stop! Fools that you are!" he cried. "Suspend your blows!Let me shut the valve! You are not changed in nature! You aregood citizens, quiet and peaceable! If you are so excited, it ismy master, Doctor Ox's, fault! It is an experiment! Under thepretext of lighting your streets with oxyhydric gas, he hassaturated--" The assistant was beside himself; but he could not finish. At theinstant that the doctor's secret was about to escape his lips, Doctor Ox himself pounced upon the unhappy Ygène in an indescribablerage, and shut his mouth by blows with his fist. It was a battle. The burgomaster, the counsellor, thedignitaries, who had stopped short on Ygène's sudden appearance, carried away in turn by their exasperation, rushed upon the twostrangers, without waiting to hear either the one or the other. Doctor Ox and his assistant, beaten and lashed, were about to bedragged, by order of Van Tricasse, to the round-house, when, -- CHAPTER XV. IN WHICH THE DÉNOUEMENT TAKES PLACE. When a formidable explosion resounded. All the atmosphere whichenveloped Quiquendone seemed on fire. A flame of an intensity andvividness quite unwonted shot up into the heavens like a meteor. Had it been night, this flame would have been visible for tenleagues around. The whole army of Quiquendone fell to the earth, like an army ofmonks. Happily there were no victims; a few scratches and slighthurts were the only result. The confectioner, who, as chancewould have it, had not fallen from his horse this time, had hisplume singed, and escaped without any further injury. [Illustration: The whole army of Quiquendone fell to the earth] What had happened? Something very simple, as was soon learned; the gasworks had justblown up. During the absence of the doctor and his assistant, some careless mistake had no doubt been made. It is not known howor why a communication had been established between the reservoirwhich contained the oxygen and that which enclosed the hydrogen. An explosive mixture had resulted from the union of these twogases, to which fire had accidentally been applied. This changed everything; but when the army got upon its feetagain, Doctor Ox and his assistant Ygène had disappeared. CHAPTER XVI. IN WHICH THE INTELLIGENT READER SEES THAT HE HAS GUESSED CORRECTLY, DESPITE ALL THE AUTHOR'S PRECAUTIONS. After the explosion, Quiquendone immediately became the peaceable, phlegmatic, and Flemish town it formerly was. After the explosion, which indeed did not cause a very livelysensation, each one, without knowing why, mechanically took hisway home, the burgomaster leaning on the counsellor's arm, theadvocate Schut going arm in arm with Custos the doctor, FrantzNiklausse walking with equal familiarity with Simon Collaert, each going tranquilly, noiselessly, without even being consciousof what had happened, and having already forgotten Virgamen andtheir revenge. The general returned to his confections, and hisaide-de-camp to the barley-sugar. Thus everything had become calm again; the old existence had beenresumed by men and beasts, beasts and plants; even by the towerof Oudenarde gate, which the explosion--these explosions aresometimes astonishing--had set upright again! And from that time never a word was spoken more loudly thananother, never a discussion took place in the town of Quiquendone. There were no more politics, no more clubs, no more trials, nomore policemen! The post of the Commissary Passauf became oncemore a sinecure, and if his salary was not reduced, it was becausethe burgomaster and the counsellor could not make up their mindsto decide upon it. From time to time, indeed, Passauf flitted, without any onesuspecting it, through the dreams of the inconsolable Tatanémance. As for Frantz's rival, he generously abandoned the charming Suzelto her lover, who hastened to wed her five or six years afterthese events. And as for Madame Van Tricasse, she died ten years later, at theproper time, and the burgomaster married Mademoiselle Pélagie VanTricasse, his cousin, under excellent conditions--for the happymortal who should succeed him. CHAPTER XVII. IN WHICH DOCTOR OX'S THEORY IS EXPLAINED. What, then, had this mysterious Doctor Ox done? Tried a fantasticexperiment, --nothing more. After having laid down his gas-pipes, he had saturated, first thepublic buildings, then the private dwellings, finally the streetsof Quiquendone, with pure oxygen, without letting in the leastatom of hydrogen. This gas, tasteless and odorless, spread in generous quantitythrough the atmosphere, causes, when it is breathed, seriousagitation to the human organism. One who lives in an airsaturated with oxygen grows excited, frantic, burns! You scarcely return to the ordinary atmosphere before you returnto your usual state. For instance, the counsellor and theburgomaster at the top of the belfry were themselves again, asthe oxygen is kept, by its weight, in the lower strata of theair. But one who lives under such conditions, breathing this gas whichtransforms the body physiologically as well as the soul, diesspeedily, like a madman. It was fortunate, then, for the Quiquendonians, that aprovidential explosion put an end to this dangerous experiment, and abolished Doctor Ox's gas-works. To conclude: Are virtue, courage, talent, wit, imagination, --areall these qualities or faculties only a question of oxygen? Such is Doctor Ox's theory; but we are not bound to accept it, and for ourselves we utterly reject it, in spite of the curiousexperiment of which the worthy old town of Quiquendone was thetheatre. MASTER ZACHARIUS CHAPTER I. A WINTER NIGHT. The city of Geneva lies at the west end of the lake of the samename. The Rhone, which passes through the town at the outlet ofthe lake, divides it into two sections, and is itself divided inthe centre of the city by an island placed in mid-stream. Atopographical feature like this is often found in the greatdepôts of commerce and industry. No doubt the first inhabitantswere influenced by the easy means of transport which the swiftcurrents of the rivers offered them--those "roads which walkalong of their own accord, " as Pascal puts it. In the case of theRhone, it would be the road that ran along. Before new and regular buildings were constructed on this island, which was enclosed like a Dutch galley in the middle of theriver, the curious mass of houses, piled one on the other, presented a delightfully confused _coup-d'oeil_. The small areaof the island had compelled some of the buildings to be perched, as it were, on the piles, which were entangled in the roughcurrents of the river. The huge beams, blackened by time, andworn by the water, seemed like the claws of an enormous crab, andpresented a fantastic appearance. The little yellow streams, which were like cobwebs stretched amid this ancient foundation, quivered in the darkness, as if they had been the leaves of someold oak forest, while the river engulfed in this forest of piles, foamed and roared most mournfully. One of the houses of the island was striking for its curiouslyaged appearance. It was the dwelling of the old clockmaker, Master Zacharius, whose household consisted of his daughterGerande, Aubert Thun, his apprentice, and his old servantScholastique. There was no man in Geneva to compare in interest with thisZacharius. His age was past finding out. Not the oldestinhabitant of the town could tell for how long his thin, pointedhead had shaken above his shoulders, nor the day when, for thefirst time, he had-walked through the streets, with his longwhite locks floating in the wind. The man did not live; hevibrated like the pendulum of his clocks. His spare andcadaverous figure was always clothed in dark colours. Like thepictures of Leonardo di Vinci, he was sketched in black. Gerande had the pleasantest room in the whole house, whence, through a narrow window, she had the inspiriting view of thesnowy peaks of Jura; but the bedroom and workshop of the old manwere a kind of cavern close on to the water, the floor of whichrested on the piles. From time immemorial Master Zacharius had never come out exceptat meal times, and when he went to regulate the different clocksof the town. He passed the rest of his time at his bench, whichwas covered with numerous clockwork instruments, most of which hehad invented himself. For he was a clever man; his works werevalued in all France and Germany. The best workers in Genevareadily recognized his superiority, and showed that he was anhonour to the town, by saying, "To him belongs the glory ofhaving invented the escapement. " In fact, the birth of trueclock-work dates from the invention which the talents ofZacharius had discovered not many years before. After he had worked hard for a long time, Zacharius would slowlyput his tools away, cover up the delicate pieces that he had beenadjusting with glasses, and stop the active wheel of his lathe;then he would raise a trap-door constructed in the floor of hisworkshop, and, stooping down, used to inhale for hours togetherthe thick vapours of the Rhone, as it dashed along under hiseyes. [Illustration: he would raise the trap door constructed in thefloor of his workshop. ] One winter's night the old servant Scholastique served thesupper, which, according to old custom, she and the youngmechanic shared with their master. Master Zacharius did not eat, though the food carefully prepared for him was offered him in ahandsome blue and white dish. He scarcely answered the sweetwords of Gerande, who evidently noticed her father's silence, andeven the clatter of Scholastique herself no more struck his earthan the roar of the river, to which he paid no attention. After the silent meal, the old clockmaker left the table withoutembracing his daughter, or saying his usual "Good-night" to all. He left by the narrow door leading to his den, and the staircasegroaned under his heavy footsteps as he went down. Gerande, Aubert, and Scholastique sat for some minutes withoutspeaking. On this evening the weather was dull; the cloudsdragged heavily on the Alps, and threatened rain; the severeclimate of Switzerland made one feel sad, while the south windswept round the house, and whistled ominously. "My dear young lady, " said Scholastique, at last, "do you knowthat our master has been out of sorts for several days? HolyVirgin! I know he has had no appetite, because his words stick inhis inside, and it would take a very clever devil to drag evenone out of him. " "My father has some secret cause of trouble, that I cannot evenguess, " replied Gerande, as a sad anxiety spread over her face. "Mademoiselle, don't let such sadness fill your heart. You knowthe strange habits of Master Zacharius. Who can read his secretthoughts in his face? No doubt some fatigue has overcome him, butto-morrow he will have forgotten it, and be very sorry to havegiven his daughter pain. " It was Aubert who spoke thus, looking into Gerande's lovely eyes. Aubert was the first apprentice whom Master Zacharius had everadmitted to the intimacy of his labours, for he appreciated hisintelligence, discretion, and goodness of heart; and this youngman had attached himself to Gerande with the earnest devotionnatural to a noble nature. Gerande was eighteen years of age. Her oval face recalled that ofthe artless Madonnas whom veneration still displays at the streetcorners of the antique towns of Brittany. Her eyes betrayed aninfinite simplicity. One would love her as the sweetestrealization of a poet's dream. Her apparel was of modest colours, and the white linen which was folded about her shoulders had thetint and perfume peculiar to the linen of the church. She led amystical existence in Geneva, which had not as yet been deliveredover to the dryness of Calvinism. While, night and morning, she read her Latin prayers in heriron-clasped missal, Gerande had also discovered a hidden sentiment inAubert Thun's heart, and comprehended what a profound devotionthe young workman had for her. Indeed, the whole world in hiseyes was condensed into this old clockmaker's house, and hepassed all his time near the young girl, when he left herfather's workshop, after his work was over. Old Scholastique saw all this, but said nothing. Her loquacityexhausted itself in preference on the evils of the times, and thelittle worries of the household. Nobody tried to stop its course. It was with her as with the musical snuff-boxes which they madeat Geneva; once wound up, you must break them before you willprevent their playing all their airs through. Finding Gerande absorbed in a melancholy silence, Scholastiqueleft her old wooden chair, fixed a taper on the end of acandlestick, lit it, and placed it near a small waxen Virgin, sheltered in her niche of stone. It was the family custom tokneel before this protecting Madonna of the domestic hearth, andto beg her kindly watchfulness during the coming night; but onthis evening Gerande remained silent in her seat. "Well, well, dear demoiselle, " said the astonished Scholastique, "supper is over, and it is time to go to bed. Why do you tire youreyes by sitting up late? Ah, Holy Virgin! It's much better tosleep, and to get a little comfort from happy dreams! In thesedetestable times in which we live, who can promise herself afortunate day?" "Ought we not to send for a doctor for my father?" asked Gerande. "A doctor!" cried the old domestic. "Has Master Zacharius everlistened to their fancies and pompous sayings? He might acceptmedicines for the watches, but not for the body!" "What shall we do?" murmured Gerande. "Has he gone to work, or torest?" "Gerande, " answered Aubert softly, "some mental trouble annoysyour father, that is all. " "Do you know what it is, Aubert?" "Perhaps, Gerande" "Tell us, then, " cried Scholastique eagerly, economicallyextinguishing her taper. "For several days, Gerande, " said the young apprentice, "something absolutely incomprehensible has been going on. All thewatches which your father has made and sold for some years havesuddenly stopped. Very many of them have been brought back tohim. He has carefully taken them to pieces; the springs were ingood condition, and the wheels well set. He has put them togetheryet more carefully; but, despite his skill, they will not go. " "The devil's in it!" cried Scholastique. "Why say you so?" asked Gerande. "It seems very natural to me. Nothing lasts for ever in this world. The infinite cannot befashioned by the hands of men. " "It is none the less true, " returned Aubert, "that there is inthis something very mysterious and extraordinary. I have myselfbeen helping Master Zacharius to search for the cause of thisderangement of his watches; but I have not been able to find it, and more than once I have let my tools fall from my hands indespair. " "But why undertake so vain a task?" resumed Scholastique. "Is itnatural that a little copper instrument should go of itself, andmark the hours? We ought to have kept to the sun-dial!" "You will not talk thus, Scholastique, " said Aubert, "when youlearn that the sun-dial was invented by Cain. '' "Good heavens! what are you telling me?" "Do you think, " asked Gerande simply, "that we might pray to Godto give life to my father's watches?" "Without doubt, " replied Aubert. "Good! They will be useless prayers, " muttered the old servant, "but Heaven will pardon them for their good intent. " The taper was relighted. Scholastique, Gerande, and Aubert kneltdown together upon the tiles of the room. The young girl prayedfor her mother's soul, for a blessing for the night, fortravellers and prisoners, for the good and the wicked, and moreearnestly than all for the unknown misfortunes of her father. [Illustration: The young girl prayed] Then the three devout souls rose with some confidence in theirhearts, because they had laid their sorrow on the bosom of God. Aubert repaired to his own room; Gerande sat pensively by thewindow, whilst the last lights were disappearing from the citystreets; and Scholastique, having poured a little water on theflickering embers, and shut the two enormous bolts on the door, threw herself upon her bed, where she was soon dreaming that shewas dying of fright. Meanwhile the terrors of this winter's night had increased. Sometimes, with the whirlpools of the river, the wind engulfeditself among the piles, and the whole house shivered and shook;but the young girl, absorbed in her sadness, thought only of herfather. After hearing what Aubert told her, the malady of MasterZacharius took fantastic proportions in her mind; and it seemedto her as if his existence, so dear to her, having become purelymechanical, no longer moved on its worn-out pivots withouteffort. Suddenly the pent-house shutter, shaken by the squall, struckagainst the window of the room. Gerande shuddered and started upwithout understanding the cause of the noise which thus disturbedher reverie. When she became a little calmer she opened the sash. The clouds had burst, and a torrent-like rain pattered on thesurrounding roofs. The young girl leaned out of the window todraw to the shutter shaken by the wind, but she feared to do so. It seemed to her that the rain and the river, confounding theirtumultuous waters, were submerging the frail house, the planks ofwhich creaked in every direction. She would have flown from herchamber, but she saw below the flickering of a light whichappeared to come from Master Zacharius's retreat, and in one ofthose momentary calms during which the elements keep a suddensilence, her ear caught plaintive sounds. She tried to shut herwindow, but could not. The wind violently repelled her, like athief who was breaking into a dwelling. Gerande thought she would go mad with terror. What was her fatherdoing? She opened the door, and it escaped from her hands, andslammed loudly with the force of the tempest. Gerande then foundherself in the dark supper-room, succeeded in gaining, on tiptoe, the staircase which led to her father's shop, and pale andfainting, glided down. The old watchmaker was upright in the middle of the room, whichresounded with the roaring of the river. His bristling hair gavehim a sinister aspect. He was talking and gesticulating, withoutseeing or hearing anything. Gerande stood still on the threshold. "It is death!" said Master Zacharius, in a hollow voice; "it isdeath! Why should I live longer, now that I have dispersed myexistence over the earth? For I, Master, Zacharius, am really thecreator of all the watches that I have fashioned! It is a part ofmy very soul that I have shut up in each of these cases of iron, silver, or gold! Every time that one of these accursed watchesstops, I feel my heart cease beating, for I have regulated themwith its pulsations!" As he spoke in this strange way, the old man cast his eyes on hisbench. There lay all the pieces of a watch that he had carefullytaken apart. He took up a sort of hollow cylinder, called abarrel, in which the spring is enclosed, and removed the steelspiral, but instead of relaxing itself, according to the laws ofits elasticity, it remained coiled on itself like a sleepingviper. It seemed knotted, like impotent old men whose blood haslong been congealed. Master Zacharius vainly essayed to uncoil itwith his thin fingers, the outlines of which were exaggerated onthe wall; but he tried in vain, and soon, with a terrible cry ofanguish and rage, he threw it through the trap-door into theboiling Rhone. Gerande, her feet riveted to the floor, stood breathless andmotionless. She wished to approach her father, but could not. Giddy hallucinations took possession of her. Suddenly she heard, in the shade, a voice murmur in her ears, -- "Gerande, dear Gerande! grief still keeps you awake. Go in again, I beg of you; the night is cold. " "Aubert!" whispered the young girl. "You!" "Ought I not to be troubled by what troubles you?" These soft words sent the blood back into the young girl's heart. She leaned on Aubert's arm, and said to him, -- "My father is very ill, Aubert! You alone can cure him, for thisdisorder of the mind would not yield to his daughter's consolings. His mind is attacked by a very natural delusion, and in working withhim, repairing the watches, you will bring him back to reason. Aubert, " she continued, "it is not true, is it, that his life ismixed up with that of his watches?" Aubert did not reply. "But is my father's a trade condemned by God?" asked Gerande, trembling. "I know not, " returned the apprentice, warming the cold hands ofthe girl with his own. "But go back to your room, my poorGerande, and with sleep recover hope!" Gerande slowly returned to her chamber, and remained there tilldaylight, without sleep closing her eyelids. Meanwhile, MasterZacharius, always mute and motionless, gazed at the river as itrolled turbulently at his feet. CHAPTER II. THE PRIDE OF SCIENCE. The severity of the Geneva merchant in business matters hasbecome proverbial. He is rigidly honourable, and excessivelyjust. What must, then, have been the shame of Master Zacharius, when he saw these watches, which he had so carefully constructed, returning to him from every direction? It was certain that these watches had suddenly stopped, andwithout any apparent reason. The wheels were in a good conditionand firmly fixed, but the springs had lost all elasticity. Vainlydid the watchmaker try to replace them; the wheels remainedmotionless. These unaccountable derangements were greatly to theold man's discredit. His noble inventions had many times broughtupon him suspicions of sorcery, which now seemed confirmed. Theserumours reached Gerande, and she often trembled for her father, when she saw malicious glances directed towards him. Yet on the morning after this night of anguish, Master Zachariusseemed to resume work with some confidence. The morning suninspired him with some courage. Aubert hastened to join him inthe shop, and received an affable "Good-day. " "I am better, " said the old man. "I don't know what strange painsin the head attacked me yesterday, but the sun has quite chasedthem away, with the clouds of the night. " "In faith, master, " returned Aubert, "I don't like the night foreither of us!" "And thou art right, Aubert. If you ever become a great man, youwill understand that day is as necessary to you as food. A greatsavant should be always ready to receive the homage of hisfellow-men. " "Master, it seems to me that the pride of science has possessedyou. " "Pride, Aubert! Destroy my past, annihilate my present, dissipatemy future, and then it will be permitted to me to live inobscurity! Poor boy, who comprehends not the sublime things towhich my art is wholly devoted! Art thou not but a tool in myhands?" "Yet. Master Zacharius, " resumed Aubert, "I have more than oncemerited your praise for the manner in which I adjusted the mostdelicate parts of your watches and clocks. " "No doubt, Aubert; thou art a good workman, such as I love; butwhen thou workest, thou thinkest thou hast in thy hands butcopper, silver, gold; thou dost not perceive these metals, whichmy genius animates, palpitating like living flesh! So that thouwilt not die, with the death of thy works!" Master Zacharius remained silent after these words; but Aubertessayed to keep up the conversation. "Indeed, master, " said he, "I love to see you work sounceasingly! You will be ready for the festival of ourcorporation, for I see that the work on this crystal watch isgoing forward famously. " "No doubt, Aubert, " cried the old watchmaker, "and it will be noslight honour for me to have been able to cut and shape thecrystal to the durability of a diamond! Ah, Louis Berghem didwell to perfect the art of diamond-cutting, which has enabled meto polish and pierce the hardest stones!" Master Zacharius was holding several small watch pieces of cutcrystal, and of exquisite workmanship. The wheels, pivots, andcase of the watch were of the same material, and he had employedremarkable skill in this very difficult task. "Would it not be fine, " said he, his face flushing, "to see thiswatch palpitating beneath its transparent envelope, and to beable to count the beatings of its heart?" "I will wager, sir, " replied the young apprentice, "that it willnot vary a second in a year. " "And you would wager on a certainty! Have I not imparted to itall that is purest of myself? And does my heart vary? My heart, Isay?" Aubert did not dare to lift his eyes to his master's face. "Tell me frankly, " said the old man sadly. "Have you never takenme for a madman? Do you not think me sometimes subject todangerous folly? Yes; is it not so? In my daughter's eyes andyours, I have often read my condemnation. Oh!" he cried, as if inpain, "to be misunderstood by those whom one most loves in theworld! But I will prove victoriously to thee, Aubert, that I amright! Do not shake thy head, for thou wilt be astounded. The dayon which thou understandest how to listen to and comprehend me, thou wilt see that I have discovered the secrets of existence, the secrets of the mysterious union of the soul with the body!" [Illustration: "Thou wilt see that I have discovered the secretsof existence. "] As he spoke thus, Master Zacharius appeared superb in his vanity. His eyes glittered with a supernatural fire, and his prideillumined every feature. And truly, if ever vanity was excusable, it was that of Master Zacharius! The watchmaking art, indeed, down to his time, had remainedalmost in its infancy. From the day when Plato, four centuriesbefore the Christian era, invented the night watch, a sort ofclepsydra which indicated the hours of the night by the sound andplaying of a flute, the science had continued nearly stationary. The masters paid more attention to the arts than to mechanics, and it was the period of beautiful watches of iron, copper, wood, silver, which were richly engraved, like one of Cellini's ewers. They made a masterpiece of chasing, which measured timeimperfectly, but was still a masterpiece. When the artist'simagination was not directed to the perfection of modelling, itset to work to create clocks with moving figures and melodioussounds, whose appearance took all attention. Besides, whotroubled himself, in those days, with regulating the advance oftime? The delays of the law were not as yet invented; thephysical and astronomical sciences had not as yet establishedtheir calculations on scrupulously exact measurements; there wereneither establishments which were shut at a given hour, nortrains which departed at a precise moment. In the evening thecurfew bell sounded; and at night the hours were cried amid theuniversal silence. Certainly people did not live so long, ifexistence is measured by the amount of business done; but theylived better. The mind was enriched with the noble sentimentsborn of the contemplation of chefs-d'oeuvré. They built a churchin two centuries, a painter painted but few pictures in thecourse of his life, a poet only composed one great work; butthese were so many masterpieces for after-ages to appreciate. When the exact sciences began at last to make some progress, watch and clock making followed in their path, though it wasalways arrested by an insurmountable difficulty, --the regular andcontinuous measurement of time. It was in the midst of this stagnation that Master Zachariusinvented the escapement, which enabled him to obtain a mathematicalregularity by submitting the movement of the pendulum to a sustainedforce. This invention had turned the old man's head. Pride, swellingin his heart, like mercury in the thermometer, had attained theheight of transcendent folly. By analogy he had allowed himself tobe drawn to materialistic conclusions, and as he constructed hiswatches, he fancied that he had discovered the secrets of the unionof the soul with the body. Thus, on this day, perceiving that Aubert listened to himattentively, he said to him in a tone of simple conviction, -- "Dost thou know what life is, my child? Hast thou comprehendedthe action of those springs which produce existence? Hast thouexamined thyself? No. And yet, with the eyes of science, thoumightest have seen the intimate relation which exists betweenGod's work and my own; for it is from his creature that I havecopied the combinations of the wheels of my clocks. " "Master, " replied Aubert eagerly, "can you compare a copper orsteel machine with that breath of God which is called the soul, which animates our bodies as the breeze stirs the flowers? Whatmechanism could be so adjusted as to inspire us with thought?" "That is not the question, " responded Master Zacharius gently, but with all the obstinacy of a blind man walking towards anabyss. "In order to understand me, thou must recall the purposeof the escapement which I have invented. When I saw the irregularworking of clocks, I understood that the movements shut up inthem did not suffice, and that it was necessary to submit them tothe regularity of some independent force. I then thought that thebalance-wheel might accomplish this, and I succeeded inregulating the movement! Now, was it not a sublime idea that cameto me, to return to it its lost force by the action of the clockitself, which it was charged with regulating?" Aubert made a sign of assent. "Now, Aubert, " continued the old man, growing animated, "castthine eyes upon thyself! Dost thou not understand that there aretwo distinct forces in us, that of the soul and that of thebody--that is, a movement and a regulator? The soul is theprinciple of life; that is, then, the movement. Whether it isproduced by a weight, by a spring, or by an immaterial influence, it is none the less in the heart. But without the body thismovement would be unequal, irregular, impossible! Thus the bodyregulates the soul, and, like the balance-wheel, it is submittedto regular oscillations. And this is so true, that one falls illwhen one's drink, food, sleep--in a word, the functions of thebody--are not properly regulated; just as in my watches the soulrenders to the body the force lost by its oscillations. Well, whatproduces this intimate union between soul and body, if not amarvellous escapement, by which the wheels of the one work into thewheels of the other? This is what I have discovered and applied;and there are no longer any secrets for me in this life, which is, after all, only an ingenious mechanism!" Master Zacharius looked sublime in this hallucination, whichcarried him to the ultimate mysteries of the Infinite. But hisdaughter Gerande, standing on the threshold of the door, hadheard all. She rushed into her father's arms, and he pressed herconvulsively to his breast. "What is the matter with thee, my daughter?" he asked. "If I had only a spring here, " said she, putting her hand on herheart, "I would not love you as I do, father. " Master Zacharius looked intently at Gerande, and did not reply. Suddenly he uttered a cry, carried his hand eagerly to his heart, and fell fainting on his old leathern chair. "Father, what is the matter?" [Illustration: "Father, what is the matter?"] "Help!" cried Aubert. "Scholastique!" But Scholastique did not come at once. Some one was knocking atthe front door; she had gone to open it, and when she returned tothe shop, before she could open her mouth, the old watchmaker, having recovered his senses, spoke:-- "I divine, my old Scholastique, that you bring me still anotherof those accursed watches which have stopped. " "Lord, it is true enough!" replied Scholastique, handing a watchto Aubert. "My heart could not be mistaken!" said the old man, with a sigh. Meanwhile Aubert carefully wound up the watch, but it would notgo. CHAPTER III. A STRANGE VISIT. Poor Gerande would have lost her life with that of her father, had it not been for the thought of Aubert, who still attached herto the world. The old watchmaker was, little by little, passing away. Hisfaculties evidently grew more feeble, as he concentrated them ona single thought. By a sad association of ideas, he referredeverything to his monomania, and a human existence seemed to havedeparted from him, to give place to the extra-natural existenceof the intermediate powers. Moreover, certain malicious rivalsrevived the sinister rumours which had spread concerning hislabours. The news of the strange derangements which his watches betrayedhad a prodigious effect upon the master clockmakers of Geneva. What signified this sudden paralysis of their wheels, and whythese strange relations which they seemed to have with the oldman's life? These were the kind of mysteries which people nevercontemplate without a secret terror. In the various classes ofthe town, from the apprentice to the great lord who used thewatches of the old horologist, there was no one who could nothimself judge of the singularity of the fact. The citizenswished, but in vain, to get to see Master Zacharius. He fell veryill; and this enabled his daughter to withdraw him from thoseincessant visits which had degenerated into reproaches andrecriminations. Medicines and physicians were powerless in presence of thisorganic wasting away, the cause of which could not be discovered. It sometimes seemed as if the old man's heart had ceased to beat;then the pulsations were resumed with an alarming irregularity. A custom existed in those days of publicly exhibiting the worksof the masters. The heads of the various corporations sought todistinguish themselves by the novelty or the perfection of theirproductions; and it was among these that the condition of MasterZacharius excited the most lively, because most interested, commiseration. His rivals pitied him the more willingly becausethey feared him the less. They never forgot the old man'ssuccess, when he exhibited his magnificent clocks with movingfigures, his repeaters, which provoked general admiration, andcommanded such high prices in the cities of France, Switzerland, and Germany. Meanwhile, thanks to the constant and tender care of Gerande andAubert, his strength seemed to return a little; and in thetranquillity in which his convalescence left him, he succeeded indetaching himself from the thoughts which had absorbed him. Assoon as he could walk, his daughter lured him away from thehouse, which was still besieged with dissatisfied customers. Aubert remained in the shop, vainly adjusting and readjusting therebel watches; and the poor boy, completely mystified, sometimescovered his face with his hands, fearful that he, like hismaster, might go mad. Gerande led her father towards the more pleasant promenades ofthe town. With his arm resting on hers, she conducted himsometimes through the quarter of Saint Antoine, the view fromwhich extends towards the Cologny hill, and over the lake; onfine mornings they caught sight of the gigantic peaks of MountBuet against the horizon. Gerande pointed out these spots to herfather, who had well-nigh forgotten even their names. His memorywandered; and he took a childish interest in learning anew whathad passed from his mind. Master Zacharius leaned upon hisdaughter; and the two heads, one white as snow and the othercovered with rich golden tresses, met in the same ray ofsunlight. So it came about that the old watchmaker at last perceived thathe was not alone in the world. As he looked upon his young andlovely daughter, and on himself old and broken, he reflected thatafter his death she would be left alone without support. Many ofthe young mechanics of Geneva had already sought to win Gerande'slove; but none of them had succeeded in gaining access to theimpenetrable retreat of the watchmaker's household. It wasnatural, then, that during this lucid interval, the old man'schoice should fall on Aubert Thun. Once struck with this thought, he remarked to himself that this young couple had been brought upwith the same ideas and the same beliefs; and the oscillations oftheir hearts seemed to him, as he said one day to Scholastique, "isochronous. " The old servant, literally delighted with the word, though shedid not understand it, swore by her holy patron saint that thewhole town should hear it within a quarter of an hour. MasterZacharius found it difficult to calm her; but made her promise tokeep on this subject a silence which she never was known toobserve. So, though Gerande and Aubert were ignorant of it, all Geneva wassoon talking of their speedy union. But it happened also that, while the worthy folk were gossiping, a strange chuckle was oftenheard, and a voice saying, "Gerande will not wed Aubert. " If the talkers turned round, they found themselves facing alittle old man who was quite a stranger to them. How old was this singular being? No one could have told. Peopleconjectured that he must have existed for several centuries, andthat was all. His big flat head rested upon shoulders the widthof which was equal to the height of his body; this was not abovethree feet. This personage would have made a good figure tosupport a pendulum, for the dial would have naturally been placedon his face, and the balance-wheel would have oscillated at itsease in his chest. His nose might readily have been taken for thestyle of a sun-dial, for it was narrow and sharp; his teeth, farapart, resembled the cogs of a wheel, and ground themselvesbetween his lips; his voice had the metallic sound of a bell, andyou could hear his heart beat like the tick of a clock. Thislittle man, whose arms moved like the hands on a dial, walkedwith jerks, without ever turning round. If any one followed him, it was found that he walked a league an hour, and that his coursewas nearly circular. This strange being had not long been seen wandering, or rathercirculating, around the town; but it had already been observedthat, every day, at the moment when the sun passed the meridian, he stopped before the Cathedral of Saint Pierre, and resumed hiscourse after the twelve strokes of noon had sounded. Excepting atthis precise moment, he seemed to become a part of all theconversations in which the old watchmaker was talked of; andpeople asked each other, in terror, what relation could existbetween him and Master Zacharius. It was remarked, too, that henever lost sight of the old man and his daughter while they weretaking their promenades. One day Gerande perceived this monster looking at her with ahideous smile. She clung to her father with a frightened motion. "What is the matter, my Gerande?" asked Master Zacharius. "I do not know, " replied the young girl. "But thou art changed, my child. Art thou going to fall ill inthy turn? Ah, well, " he added, with a sad smile, "then I musttake care of thee, and I will do it tenderly. " "O father, it will be nothing. I am cold, and I imagine that itis--" "What, Gerande?" "The presence of that man, who always follows us, " she replied ina low tone. Master Zacharius turned towards the little old man. "Faith, he goes well, " said he, with a satisfied air, "for it isjust four o'clock. Fear nothing, my child; it is not a man, itis a clock!" Gerande looked at her father in terror. How could MasterZacharius read the hour on this strange creature's visage? "By-the-bye, " continued the old watchmaker, paying no furtherattention to the matter, "I have not seen Aubert for severaldays. " "He has not left us, however, father, " said Gerande, whosethoughts turned into a gentler channel. "What is he doing then?" "He is working. " "Ah!" cried the old man. "He is at work repairing my watches, ishe not? But he will never succeed; for it is not repair theyneed, but a resurrection!" Gerande remained silent. "I must know, " added the old man, "if they have brought back anymore of those accursed watches upon which the Devil has sent thisepidemic!" After these words Master Zacharius fell into complete silence, till he knocked at the door of his house, and for the first timesince his convalescence descended to his shop, while Gerandesadly repaired to her chamber. Just as Master Zacharius crossed the threshold of his shop, oneof the many clocks suspended on the wall struck five o'clock. Usually the bells of these clocks--admirably regulated as theywere--struck simultaneously, and this rejoiced the old man'sheart; but on this day the bells struck one after another, sothat for a quarter of an hour the ear was deafened by thesuccessive noises. Master Zacharius suffered acutely; he couldnot remain still, but went from one clock to the other, and beatthe time to them, like a conductor who no longer has control overhis musicians. When the last had ceased striking, the door of the shop opened, and Master Zacharius shuddered from head to foot to see beforehim the little old man, who looked fixedly at him and said, -- "Master, may I not speak with you a few moments?" "Who are you?" asked the watchmaker abruptly. "A colleague. It is my business to regulate the sun. " "Ah, you regulate the sun?" replied Master Zacharius eagerly, without wincing. "I can scarcely compliment you upon it. Your sungoes badly, and in order to make ourselves agree with it, we haveto keep putting our clocks forward so much or back so much. " "And by the cloven foot, " cried this weird personage, "you areright, my master! My sun does not always mark noon at the samemoment as your clocks; but some day it will be known that this isbecause of the inequality of the earth's transfer, and a meannoon will be invented which will regulate this irregularity!" "Shall I live till then?" asked the old man, with glisteningeyes. "Without doubt, " replied the little old man, laughing. "Can youbelieve that you will ever die?" "Alas! I am very ill now. " "Ah, let us talk of that. By Beelzebub! that will lead to justwhat I wish to speak to you about. " Saying this, the strange being leaped upon the old leather chair, and carried his legs one under the other, after the fashion ofthe bones which the painters of funeral hangings cross beneathdeath's heads. Then he resumed, in an ironical tone, -- [Illustration: Then he resumed, in an ironical tone] "Let us see, Master Zacharius, what is going on in this good townof Geneva? They say that your health is failing, that yourwatches have need of a doctor!" "Ah, do you believe that there is an intimate relation betweentheir existence and mine?" cried Master Zacharius. "Why, I imagine that these watches have faults, even vices. Ifthese wantons do not preserve a regular conduct, it is right thatthey should bear the consequences of their irregularity. It seemsto me that they have need of reforming a little!" "What do you call faults?" asked Master Zacharius, reddening atthe sarcastic tone in which these words were uttered. "Have theynot a right to be proud of their origin?" "Not too proud, not too proud, " replied the little old man. "Theybear a celebrated name, and an illustrious signature is graven ontheir cases, it is true, and theirs is the exclusive privilege ofbeing introduced among the noblest families; but for some timethey have got out of order, and you can do nothing in the matter, Master Zacharius; and the stupidest apprentice in Geneva couldprove it to you!" "To me, to me, --Master Zacharius!" cried the old man, with aflush of outraged pride. "To you, Master Zacharius, --you, who cannot restore life to yourwatches!" "But it is because I have a fever, and so have they also!"replied the old man, as a cold sweat broke out upon him. "Very well, they will die with you, since you cannot impart alittle elasticity to their springs. " "Die! No, for you yourself have said it! I cannot die, --I, thefirst watchmaker in the world; I, who, by means of these piecesand diverse wheels, have been able to regulate the movement withabsolute precision! Have I not subjected time to exact laws, andcan I not dispose of it like a despot? Before a sublime geniushad arranged these wandering hours regularly, in what vastuncertainty was human destiny plunged? At what certain momentcould the acts of life be connected with each other? But you, manor devil, whatever you may be, have never considered themagnificence of my art, which calls every science to its aid! No, no! I, Master Zacharius, cannot die, for, as I have regulatedtime, time would end with me! It would return to the infinite, whence my genius has rescued it, and it would lose itselfirreparably in the abyss of nothingness! No, I can no more diethan the Creator of this universe, that submitted to His laws! Ihave become His equal, and I have partaken of His power! If Godhas created eternity, Master Zacharius has created time!" The old watchmaker now resembled the fallen angel, defiant in thepresence of the Creator. The little old man gazed at him, andeven seemed to breathe into him this impious transport. "Well said, master, " he replied. "Beelzebub had less right thanyou to compare himself with God! Your glory must not perish! Soyour servant here desires to give you the method of controllingthese rebellious watches. " "What is it? what is it?" cried Master Zacharius. "You shall know on the day after that on which you have given meyour daughter's hand. " "My Gerande?" "Herself!" "My daughter's heart is not free, " replied Master Zacharius, whoseemed neither astonished nor shocked at the strange demand. "Bah! She is not the least beautiful of watches; but she will endby stopping also--" "My daughter, --my Gerande! No!" "Well, return to your watches, Master Zacharius. Adjust andreadjust them. Get ready the marriage of your daughter and yourapprentice. Temper your springs with your best steel. BlessAubert and the pretty Gerande. But remember, your watches willnever go, and Gerande will not wed Aubert!" Thereupon the little old man disappeared, but not so quickly thatMaster Zacharius could not hear six o'clock strike in his breast. CHAPTER IV. THE CHURCH OF SAINT PIERRE. Meanwhile Master Zacharius became more feeble in mind and bodyevery day. An unusual excitement, indeed, impelled him tocontinue his work more eagerly than ever, nor could his daughterentice him from it. His pride was still more aroused after the crisis to which hisstrange visitor had hurried him so treacherously, and he resolvedto overcome, by the force of genius, the malign influence whichweighed upon his work and himself. He first repaired to thevarious clocks of the town which were confided to his care. Hemade sure, by a scrupulous examination, that the wheels were ingood condition, the pivots firm, the weights exactly balanced. Every part, even to the bells, was examined with the minuteattention of a physician studying the breast of a patient. Nothing indicated that these clocks were on the point of beingaffected by inactivity. Gerande and Aubert often accompanied the old man on these visits. He would no doubt have been pleased to see them eager to go withhim, and certainly he would not have been so much absorbed in hisapproaching end, had he thought that his existence was to beprolonged by that of these cherished ones, and had he understoodthat something of the life of a father always remains in hischildren. The old watchmaker, on returning home, resumed his labours withfeverish zeal. Though persuaded that he would not succeed, it yetseemed to him impossible that this could be so, and he unceasinglytook to pieces the watches which were brought to his shop, and putthem together again. Aubert tortured his mind in vain to discover the causes of theevil. "Master, " said he, "this can only come from the wear of thepivots and gearing. " "Do you want, then, to kill me, little by little?" replied MasterZacharius passionately. "Are these watches child's work? Was itlest I should hurt my fingers that I worked the surface of thesecopper pieces in the lathe? Have I not forged these pieces ofcopper myself, so as to obtain a greater strength? Are not thesesprings tempered to a rare perfection? Could anybody have usedfiner oils than mine? You must yourself agree that it isimpossible, and you avow, in short, that the devil is in it!" From morning till night discontented purchasers besieged thehouse, and they got access to the old watchmaker himself, whoknew not which of them to listen to. [Illustration: From morning till night discontented purchasersbesieged the house] "This watch loses, and I cannot succeed in regulating it, " saidone. "This, " said another, "is absolutely obstinate, and stands still, as did Joshua's sun. " "If it is true, " said most of them, "that your health has aninfluence on that of your watches, Master Zacharius, get well assoon as possible. " The old man gazed at these people with haggard eyes, and onlyreplied by shaking his head, or by a few sad words, -- "Wait till the first fine weather, my friends. The season iscoming which revives existence in wearied bodies. We want the sunto warm us all!" "A fine thing, if my watches are to be ill through the winter!"said one of the most angry. "Do you know, Master Zacharius, thatyour name is inscribed in full on their faces? By the Virgin, youdo little honour to your signature!" It happened at last that the old man, abashed by thesereproaches, took some pieces of gold from his old trunk, andbegan to buy back the damaged watches. At news of this, thecustomers came in a crowd, and the poor watchmaker's money fastmelted away; but his honesty remained intact. Gerande warmlypraised his delicacy, which was leading him straight towardsruin; and Aubert soon offered his own savings to his master. "What will become of my daughter?" said Master Zacharius, clinging now and then in the shipwreck to his paternal love. Aubert dared not answer that he was full of hope for the future, and of deep devotion to Gerande. Master Zacharius would have thatday called him his son-in-law, and thus refuted the sad prophecy, which still buzzed in his ears, -- "Gerande will not wed Aubert. " By this plan the watchmaker at last succeeded in entirelydespoiling himself. His antique vases passed into the hands ofstrangers; he deprived himself of the richly-carved panels whichadorned the walls of his house; some primitive pictures of theearly Flemish painters soon ceased to please his daughter's eyes, and everything, even the precious tools that his genius hadinvented, were sold to indemnify the clamorous customers. Scholastique alone refused to listen to reason on the subject;but her efforts failed to prevent the unwelcome visitors fromreaching her master, and from soon departing with some valuableobject. Then her chattering was heard in all the streets of theneighbourhood, where she had long been known. She eagerly deniedthe rumours of sorcery and magic on the part of Master Zacharius, which gained currency; but as at bottom she was persuaded oftheir truth, she said her prayers over and over again to redeemher pious falsehoods. It had been noticed that for some time the old watchmaker hadneglected his religious duties. Time was, when he had accompaniedGerande to church, and had seemed to find in prayer theintellectual charm which it imparts to thoughtful minds, since itis the most sublime exercise of the imagination. This voluntaryneglect of holy practices, added to the secret habits of hislife, had in some sort confirmed the accusations levelled againsthis labours. So, with the double purpose of drawing her fatherback to God, and to the world, Gerande resolved to call religionto her aid. She thought that it might give some vitality to hisdying soul; but the dogmas of faith and humility had to combat, in the soul of Master Zacharius, an insurmountable pride, andcame into collision with that vanity of science which connectseverything with itself, without rising to the infinite sourcewhence first principles flow. It was under these circumstances that the young girl undertookher father's conversion; and her influence was so effective thatthe old watchmaker promised to attend high mass at the cathedralon the following Sunday. Gerande was in an ecstasy, as if heavenhad opened to her view. Old Scholastique could not contain herjoy, and at last found irrefutable arguments' against thegossiping tongues which accused her master of impiety. She spokeof it to her neighbours, her friends, her enemies, to those whomshe knew not as well as to those whom she knew. "In faith, we scarcely believe what you tell us, dameScholastique, " they replied; "Master Zacharius has always actedin concert with the devil!" "You haven't counted, then, " replied the old servant, "the finebells which strike for my master's clocks? How many times theyhave struck the hours of prayer and the mass!" "No doubt, " they would reply. "But has he not invented machineswhich go all by themselves, and which actually do the work of areal man?" "Could a child of the devil, " exclaimed dame Scholastiquewrathfully, "have executed the fine iron clock of the château ofAndernatt, which the town of Geneva was not rich enough to buy? Apious motto appeared at each hour, and a Christian who obeyedthem, would have gone straight to Paradise! Is that the work ofthe devil?" This masterpiece, made twenty years before, had carried MasterZacharius's fame to its acme; but even then there had beenaccusations of sorcery against him. But at least the old man'svisit to the Cathedral ought to reduce malicious tongues tosilence. Master Zacharius, having doubtless forgotten the promise made tohis daughter, had returned to his shop. After being convinced ofhis powerlessness to give life to his watches, he resolved to tryif he could not make some new ones. He abandoned all thoseuseless works, and devoted himself to the completion of thecrystal watch, which he intended to be his masterpiece; but invain did he use his most perfect tools, and employ rubies anddiamonds for resisting friction. The watch fell from his handsthe first time that he attempted to wind it up! The old man concealed this circumstance from every one, even fromhis daughter; but from that time his health rapidly declined. There were only the last oscillations of a pendulum, which goesslower when nothing restores its original force. It seemed as ifthe laws of gravity, acting directly upon him, were dragging himirresistibly down to the grave. The Sunday so ardently anticipated by Gerande at last arrived. The weather was fine, and the temperature inspiriting. The peopleof Geneva were passing quietly through the streets, gailychatting about the return of spring. Gerande, tenderly taking theold man's arm, directed her steps towards the cathedral, whileScholastique followed behind with the prayer-books. People lookedcuriously at them as they passed. The old watchmaker permittedhimself to be led like a child, or rather like a blind man. Thefaithful of Saint Pierre were almost frightened when they saw himcross the threshold, and shrank back at his approach. The chants of high mass were already resounding through thechurch. Gerande went to her accustomed bench, and kneeled withprofound and simple reverence. Master Zacharius remained standingupright beside her. The ceremonies continued with the majestic solemnity of thatfaithful age, but the old man had no faith. He did not implorethe pity of Heaven with cries of anguish of the "Kyrie;" he didnot, with the "Gloria in Excelsis, " sing the splendours of theheavenly heights; the reading of the Testament did not draw himfrom his materialistic reverie, and he forgot to join in thehomage of the "Credo. " This proud old man remained motionless, asinsensible and silent as a stone statue; and even at the solemnmoment when the bell announced the miracle of transubstantiation, he did not bow his head, but gazed directly at the sacred hostwhich the priest raised above the heads of the faithful. Gerandelooked at her father, and a flood of tears moistened her missal. At this moment the clock of Saint Pierre struck half-past eleven. Master Zacharius turned quickly towards this ancient clock whichstill spoke. It seemed to him as if its face was gazing steadilyat him; the figures of the hours shone as if they had beenengraved in lines of fire, and the hands shot forth electricsparks from their sharp points. [Illustration: This proud old man remained motionless] The mass ended. It was customary for the "Angelus" to be said atnoon, and the priests, before leaving the altar, waited for theclock to strike the hour of twelve. In a few moments this prayerwould ascend to the feet of the Virgin. But suddenly a harsh noise was heard. Master Zacharius uttered apiercing cry. The large hand of the clock, having reached twelve, had abruptlystopped, and the clock did not strike the hour. Gerande hastened to her father's aid. He had fallen downmotionless, and they carried him outside the church. "It is the death-blow!" murmured Gerande, sobbing. When he had been borne home, Master Zacharius lay upon his bedutterly crushed. Life seemed only to still exist on the surfaceof his body, like the last whiffs of smoke about a lamp justextinguished. When he came to his senses, Aubert and Gerande wereleaning over him. In these last moments the future took in hiseyes the shape of the present. He saw his daughter alone, withouta protector. "My son, " said he to Aubert, "I give my daughter to thee. " So saying, he stretched out his hands towards his two children, who were thus united at his death-bed. But soon Master Zacharius lifted himself up in a paroxysm ofrage. The words of the little old man recurred to his mind. "I do not wish to die!" he cried; "I cannot die! I, MasterZacharius, ought not to die! My books--my accounts!--" With these words he sprang from his bed towards a book in whichthe names of his customers and the articles which had been soldto them were inscribed. He seized it and rapidly turned over itsleaves, and his emaciated finger fixed itself on one of thepages. "There!" he cried, "there! this old iron clock, sold toPittonaccio! It is the only one that has not been returned to me!It still exists--it goes--it lives! Ah, I wish for it--I mustfind it! I will take such care of it that death will no longerseek me!" And he fainted away. Aubert and Gerande knelt by the old man's bed-side and prayedtogether. CHAPTER V. THE HOUR OF DEATH. Several days passed, and Master Zacharius, though almost dead, rose from his bed and returned to active life under a supernaturalexcitement. He lived by pride. But Gerande did not deceiveherself; her father's body and soul were for ever lost. The old man got together his last remaining resources, withoutthought of those who were dependent upon him. He betrayed anincredible energy, walking, ferreting about, and mumblingstrange, incomprehensible words. One morning Gerande went down to his shop. Master Zacharius wasnot there. She waited for him all day. Master Zacharius did notreturn. Gerande wept bitterly, but her father did not reappear. Aubert searched everywhere through the town, and soon came to thesad conviction that the old man had left it. "Let us find my father!" cried Gerande, when the young apprenticetold her this sad news. "Where can he be?" Aubert asked himself. An inspiration suddenly came to his mind. He remembered the lastwords which Master Zacharius had spoken. The old man only livednow in the old iron clock that had not been returned! MasterZacharius must have gone in search of it. Aubert spoke of this to Gerande. "Let us look at my father's book, " she replied. They descended to the shop. The book was open on the bench. Allthe watches or clocks made by the old man, and which had beenreturned to him because they were out of order, were stricken outexcepting one:-- "Sold to M. Pittonaccio, an iron clock, with bell and movingfigures; sent to his château at Andernatt. " It was this "moral" clock of which Scholastique had spoken withso much enthusiasm. "My father is there!" cried Gerande. "Let us hasten thither, " replied Aubert. "We may still save him!" "Not for this life, " murmured Gerande, "but at least for theother. " "By the mercy of God, Gerande! The château of Andernatt stands inthe gorge of the 'Dents-du-Midi' twenty hours from Geneva. Let usgo!" That very evening Aubert and Gerande, followed by the oldservant, set out on foot by the road which skirts Lake Leman. They accomplished five leagues during the night, stopping neitherat Bessinge nor at Ermance, where rises the famous château of theMayors. They with difficulty forded the torrent of the Dranse, and everywhere they went they inquired for Master Zacharius, andwere soon convinced that they were on his track. The next morning, at daybreak, having passed Thonon, they reachedEvian, whence the Swiss territory may be seen extended overtwelve leagues. But the two betrothed did not even perceive theenchanting prospect. They went straight forward, urged on by asupernatural force. Aubert, leaning on a knotty stick, offeredhis arm alternately to Gerande and to Scholastique, and he madethe greatest efforts to sustain his companions. All three talkedof their sorrow, of their hopes, and thus passed along thebeautiful road by the water-side, and across the narrow plateauwhich unites the borders of the lake with the heights of theChalais. They soon reached Bouveret, where the Rhone enters theLake of Geneva. On leaving this town they diverged from the lake, and theirweariness increased amid these mountain districts. Vionnaz, Chesset, Collombay, half lost villages, were soon left behind. Meanwhile their knees shook, their feet were lacerated by thesharp points which covered the ground like a brushwood ofgranite;--but no trace of Master Zacharius! He must be found, however, and the two young people did not seekrepose either in the isolated hamlets or at the château ofMonthay, which, with its dependencies, formed the appanage ofMargaret of Savoy. At last, late in the day, and half dead withfatigue, they reached the hermitage of Notre-Dame-du-Sex, whichis situated at the base of the Dents-du-Midi, six hundred feetabove the Rhone. The hermit received the three wanderers as night was falling. They could not have gone another step, and here they must needsrest. The hermit could give them no news of Master Zacharius. Theycould scarcely hope to find him still living amid these sadsolitudes. The night was dark, the wind howled amid themountains, and the avalanches roared down from the summits of thebroken crags. Aubert and Gerande, crouching before the hermit's hearth, toldhim their melancholy tale. Their mantles, covered with snow, weredrying in a corner; and without, the hermit's dog barkedlugubriously, and mingled his voice with that of the tempest. "Pride, " said the hermit to his guests, "has destroyed an angelcreated for good. It is the stumbling-block against which thedestinies of man strike. You cannot reason with pride, theprincipal of all the vices, since, by its very nature, the proudman refuses to listen to it. It only remains, then, to pray foryour father!" All four knelt down, when the barking of the dog redoubled, andsome one knocked at the door of the hermitage. "Open, in the devil's name!" The door yielded under the blows, and a dishevelled, haggard, ill-clothed man appeared. "My father!" cried Gerande. It was Master Zacharius. "Where am I?" said he. "In eternity! Time is ended--the hours nolonger strike--the hands have stopped!" "Father!" returned Gerande, with so piteous an emotion that theold man seemed to return to the world of the living. "Thou here, Gerande?" he cried; "and thou, Aubert? Ah, my dearbetrothed ones, you are going to be married in our old church!" "Father, " said Gerande, seizing him by the arm, "come home toGeneva, --come with us!" The old man tore away from his daughter's embrace and hurriedtowards the door, on the threshold of which the snow was fallingin large flakes. "Do not abandon your children!" cried Aubert. "Why return, " replied the old man sadly, "to those places whichmy life has already quitted, and where a part of myself is forever buried?" "Your soul is not dead, " said the hermit solemnly. "My soul? O no, --its wheels are good! I perceive it beatingregularly--" "Your soul is immaterial, --your soul is immortal!" replied thehermit sternly. "Yes--like my glory! But it is shut up in the château ofAndernatt, and I wish to see it again!" The hermit crossed himself; Scholastique became almost inanimate. Aubert held Gerande in his arms. "The château of Andernatt is inhabited by one who is lost, " saidthe hermit, "one who does not salute the cross of my hermitage. " "My father, go not thither!" "I want my soul! My soul is mine--" "Hold him! Hold my father!" cried Gerande. But the old man had leaped across the threshold, and plunged intothe night, crying, "Mine, mine, my soul!" Gerande, Aubert, and Scholastique hastened after him. They wentby difficult paths, across which Master Zacharius sped like atempest, urged by an irresistible force. The snow raged aroundthem, and mingled its white flakes with the froth of the swollentorrents. As they passed the chapel erected in memory of the massacre ofthe Theban legion, they hurriedly crossed themselves. MasterZacharius was not to be seen. At last the village of Evionnaz appeared in the midst of thissterile region. The hardest heart would have been moved to seethis hamlet, lost among these horrible solitudes. The old mansped on, and plunged into the deepest gorge of the Dents-du-Midi, which pierce the sky with their sharp peaks. Soon a ruin, old and gloomy as the rocks at its base, rose beforehim. "It is there--there!" he cried, hastening his pace still morefrantically. [Illustration: "It is there--there!"] The château of Andernatt was a ruin even then. A thick, crumblingtower rose above it, and seemed to menace with its downfall theold gables which reared themselves below. The vast piles ofjagged stones were gloomy to look on. Several dark halls appearedamid the debris, with caved-in ceilings, now become the abode ofvipers. A low and narrow postern, opening upon a ditch choked withrubbish, gave access to the château. Who had dwelt there noneknew. No doubt some margrave, half lord, half brigand, hadsojourned in it; to the margrave had succeeded bandits orcounterfeit coiners, who had been hanged on the scene of theircrime. The legend went that, on winter nights, Satan came to leadhis diabolical dances on the slope of the deep gorges in whichthe shadow of these ruins was engulfed. But Master Zacharius was not dismayed by their sinister aspect. He reached the postern. No one forbade him to pass. A spaciousand gloomy court presented itself to his eyes; no one forbade himto cross it. He passed along the kind of inclined plane whichconducted to one of the long corridors, whose arches seemed tobanish daylight from beneath their heavy springings. His advancewas unresisted. Gerande, Aubert, and Scholastique closelyfollowed him. Master Zacharius, as if guided by an irresistible hand, seemedsure of his way, and strode along with rapid step. He reached anold worm-eaten door, which fell before his blows, whilst the batsdescribed oblique circles around his head. An immense hall, better preserved than the rest, was soonreached. High sculptured panels, on which serpents, ghouls, andother strange figures seemed to disport themselves confusedly, covered its walls. Several long and narrow windows, likeloopholes, shivered beneath the bursts of the tempest. Master Zacharius, on reaching the middle of this hall, uttered acry of joy. On an iron support, fastened to the wall, stood the clock inwhich now resided his entire life. This unequalled masterpiecerepresented an ancient Roman church, with buttresses of wroughtiron, with its heavy bell-tower, where there was a complete chimefor the anthem of the day, the "Angelus, " the mass, vespers, compline, and the benediction. Above the church door, whichopened at the hour of the services, was placed a "rose, " in thecentre of which two hands moved, and the archivault of whichreproduced the twelve hours of the face sculptured in relief. Between the door and the rose, just as Scholastique had said, amaxim, relative to the employment of every moment of the day, appeared on a copper plate. Master Zacharius had once regulatedthis succession of devices with a really Christian solicitude;the hours of prayer, of work, of repast, of recreation, and ofrepose, followed each other according to the religious discipline, and were to infallibly insure salvation to him who scrupulouslyobserved their commands. Master Zacharius, intoxicated with joy, went forward to takepossession of the clock, when a frightful roar of laughterresounded behind him. He turned, and by the light of a smoky lamp recognized the littleold man of Geneva. "You here?" cried he. Gerande was afraid. She drew closer to Aubert. "Good-day, Master Zacharius, " said the monster. "Who are you?" "Signor Pittonaccio, at your service! You have come to give meyour daughter! You have remembered my words, 'Gerande will notwed Aubert. '" The young apprentice rushed upon Pittonaccio, who escaped fromhim like a shadow. "Stop, Aubert!" cried Master Zacharius. "Good-night, " said Pittonaccio, and he disappeared. "My father, let us fly from this hateful place!" cried Gerande. "My father!" Master Zacharius was no longer there. He was pursuing the phantomof Pittonaccio across the rickety corridors. Scholastique, Gerande, and Aubert remained, speechless and fainting, in thelarge gloomy hall. The young girl had fallen upon a stone seat;the old servant knelt beside her, and prayed; Aubert remainederect, watching his betrothed. Pale lights wandered in thedarkness, and the silence was only broken by the movements of thelittle animals which live in old wood, and the noise of whichmarks the hours of "death watch. " When daylight came, they ventured upon the endless staircasewhich wound beneath these ruined masses; for two hours theywandered thus without meeting a living soul, and hearing only afar-off echo responding to their cries. Sometimes they foundthemselves buried a hundred feet below the ground, and sometimesthey reached places whence they could overlook the wildmountains. Chance brought them at last back again to the vast hall, whichhad sheltered them during this night of anguish. It was no longerempty. Master Zacharius and Pittonaccio were talking theretogether, the one upright and rigid as a corpse, the othercrouching over a marble table. Master Zacharius, when he perceived Gerande, went forward andtook her by the hand, and led her towards Pittonaccio, saying, "Behold your lord and master, my daughter. Gerande, behold yourhusband!" Gerande shuddered from head to foot. "Never!" cried Aubert, "for she is my betrothed. " "Never!" responded Gerande, like a plaintive echo. Pittonaccio began to laugh. "You wish me to die, then!" exclaimed the old man. "There, inthat clock, the last which goes of all which have gone from myhands, my life is shut up; and this man tells me, 'When I havethy daughter, this clock shall belong to thee. ' And this man willnot rewind it. He can break it, and plunge me into chaos. Ah, mydaughter, you no longer love me!" "My father!" murmured Gerande, recovering consciousness. "If you knew what I have suffered, far away from this principleof my existence!" resumed the old man. "Perhaps no one lookedafter this timepiece. Perhaps its springs were left to wear out, its wheels to get clogged. But now, in my own hands, I cannourish this health so dear, for I must not die, --I, the greatwatchmaker of Geneva. Look, my daughter, how these hands advancewith certain step. See, five o'clock is about to strike. Listenwell, and look at the maxim which is about to be revealed. " Five o'clock struck with a noise which resounded sadly inGerande's soul, and these words appeared in red letters: "YOU MUST EAT OF THE FRUITS OF THE TREE OF SCIENCE. " Aubert and Gerande looked at each other stupefied. These were nolonger the pious sayings of the Catholic watchmaker. The breathof Satan must have passed over it. But Zacharius paid noattention to this, and resumed-- "Dost thou hear, my Gerande? I live, I still live! Listen to mybreathing, --see the blood circulating in my veins! No, thouwouldst not kill thy father, and thou wilt accept this man forthy husband, so that I may become immortal, and at last attainthe power of God!" At these blasphemous words old Scholastique crossed herself, andPittonaccio laughed aloud with joy. "And then, Gerande, thou wilt be happy with him. See this man, --heis Time! Thy existence will be regulated with absoluteprecision. Gerande, since I gave thee life, give life to thyfather!" [Illustration: "See this man, --he is Time!"] "Gerande, " murmured Aubert, "I am thy betrothed. " "He is my father!" replied Gerande, fainting. "She is thine!" said Master Zacharius. "Pittonaccio, them wiltkeep thy promise!" "Here is the key of the clock, " replied the horrible man. Master Zacharius seized the long key, which resembled an uncoiledsnake, and ran to the clock, which he hastened to wind up withfantastic rapidity. The creaking of the spring jarred upon thenerves. The old watchmaker wound and wound the key, withoutstopping a moment, and it seemed as if the movement were beyondhis control. He wound more and more quickly, with strangecontortions, until he fell from sheer weariness. "There, it is wound up for a century!" he cried. Aubert rushed from the hall as if he were mad. After longwandering, he found the outlet of the hateful château, andhastened into the open air. He returned to the hermitage ofNotre-Dame-du-Sex, and talked so despairingly to the holyrecluse, that the latter consented to return with him to thechâteau of Andernatt. If, during these hours of anguish, Gerande had not wept, it wasbecause her tears were exhausted. Master Zacharius had not left the hall. He ran every moment tolisten to the regular beating of the old clock. Meanwhile the clock had struck, and to Scholastique's greatterror, these words had appeared on the silver face:--"MAN OUGHTTO BECOME THE EQUAL OF GOD. " The old man had not only not been shocked by these impiousmaxims, but read them deliriously, and flattered himself withthoughts of pride, whilst Pittonaccio kept close by him. The marriage-contract was to be signed at midnight. Gerande, almost unconscious, saw or heard nothing. The silence was onlybroken by the old man's words, and the chuckling of Pittonaccio. Eleven o'clock struck. Master Zacharius shuddered, and read in aloud voice:-- "MAN SHOULD BE THE SLAVE OF SCIENCE, AND SACRIFICE TO IT RELATIVES AND FAMILY. " "Yes!" he cried, "there is nothing but science in this world!" The hands slipped over the face of the clock with the hiss of aserpent, and the pendulum beat with accelerated strokes. Master Zacharius no longer spoke. He had fallen to the floor, histhroat rattled, and from his oppressed bosom came only thesehalf-broken words: "Life--science!" The scene had now two new witnesses, the hermit and Aubert. Master Zacharius lay upon the floor; Gerande was praying besidehim, more dead than alive. Of a sudden a dry, hard noise was heard, which preceded thestrike. Master Zacharius sprang up. "Midnight!" he cried. The hermit stretched out his hand towards the old clock, --andmidnight did not sound. Master Zacharius uttered a terrible cry, which must have beenheard in hell, when these words appeared:-- "WHO EVER SHALL ATTEMPT TO MAKE HIMSELF THE EQUAL OF GOD, SHALLBE FOR EVER DAMNED!" The old clock burst with a noise like thunder, and the spring, escaping, leaped across the hall with a thousand fantasticcontortions; the old man rose, ran after it, trying in vain toseize it, and exclaiming, "My soul, --my soul!" The spring bounded before him, first on one side, then on theother, and he could not reach it. At last Pittonaccio seized it, and, uttering a horribleblasphemy, ingulfed himself in the earth. Master Zacharius fell backwards. He was dead. [Illustration: He was dead. ] The old watchmaker was buried in the midst of the peaks ofAndernatt. Then Aubert and Gerande returned to Geneva, and during the longlife which God accorded to them, they made it a duty to redeem byprayer the soul of the castaway of science. A DRAMA IN THE AIR. In the month of September, 185--, I arrived at Frankfort-on-the-Maine. My passage through the principal German cities had been brilliantlymarked by balloon ascents; but as yet no German had accompanied me inmy car, and the fine experiments made at Paris by MM. Green, EugeneGodard, and Poitevin had not tempted the grave Teutons to essayaerial voyages. But scarcely had the news of my approaching ascent spread throughFrankfort, than three of the principal citizens begged the favourof being allowed to ascend with me. Two days afterwards we wereto start from the Place de la Comédie. I began at once to get myballoon ready. It was of silk, prepared with gutta percha, asubstance impermeable by acids or gasses; and its volume, whichwas three thousand cubic yards, enabled it to ascend to theloftiest heights. The day of the ascent was that of the great September fair, whichattracts so many people to Frankfort. Lighting gas, of a perfectquality and of great lifting power, had been furnished to me inexcellent condition, and about eleven o'clock the balloon wasfilled; but only three-quarters filled, --an indispensableprecaution, for, as one rises, the atmosphere diminishes indensity, and the fluid enclosed within the balloon, acquiringmore elasticity, might burst its sides. My calculations hadfurnished me with exactly the quantity of gas necessary to carryup my companions and myself. We were to start at noon. The impatient crowd which pressedaround the enclosed space, filling the enclosed square, overflowing into the contiguous streets, and covering the housesfrom the ground-floor to the slated gables, presented a strikingscene. The high winds of the preceding days had subsided. Anoppressive heat fell from the cloudless sky. Scarcely a breathanimated the atmosphere. In such weather, one might descend againupon the very spot whence he had risen. I carried three hundred pounds of ballast in bags; the car, quiteround, four feet in diameter, was comfortably arranged; thehempen cords which supported it stretched symmetrically over theupper hemisphere of the balloon; the compass was in place, thebarometer suspended in the circle which united the supportingcords, and the anchor carefully put in order. All was now readyfor the ascent. Among those who pressed around the enclosure, I remarked a youngman with a pale face and agitated features. The sight of himimpressed me. He was an eager spectator of my ascents, whom I hadalready met in several German cities. With an uneasy air, heclosely watched the curious machine, as it lay motionless a fewfeet above the ground; and he remained silent among those abouthim. Twelve o'clock came. The moment had arrived, but my travellingcompanions did not appear. I sent to their houses, and learnt that one had left for Hamburg, another for Vienna, and the third for London. Their courage hadfailed them at the moment of undertaking one of those excursionswhich, thanks to the ability of living aeronauts, are free fromall danger. As they formed, in some sort, a part of the programmeof the day, the fear had seized them that they might be forced toexecute it faithfully, and they had fled far from the scene atthe instant when the balloon was being filled. Their courage wasevidently the inverse ratio of their speed--in decamping. The multitude, half deceived, showed not a little ill-humour. Idid not hesitate to ascend alone. In order to re-establish theequilibrium between the specific gravity of the balloon and theweight which had thus proved wanting, I replaced my companions bymore sacks of sand, and got into the car. The twelve men who heldthe balloon by twelve cords fastened to the equatorial circle, let them slip a little between their fingers, and the balloonrose several feet higher. There was not a breath of wind, and theatmosphere was so leaden that it seemed to forbid the ascent. "Is everything ready?" I cried. The men put themselves in readiness. A last glance told me that Imight go. "Attention!" There was a movement in the crowd, which seemed to be invadingthe enclosure. "Let go!" The balloon rose slowly, but I experienced a shock which threw meto the bottom of the car. When I got up, I found myself face to face with an unexpectedfellow-voyager, --the pale young man. "Monsieur, I salute you, " said he, with the utmost coolness. [Illustration: "Monsieur, I salute you, "] "By what right--" "Am I here? By the right which the impossibility of your gettingrid of me confers. " I was amazed! His calmness put me out of countenance, and I hadnothing to reply. I looked at the intruder, but he took no noticeof my astonishment. "Does my weight disarrange your equilibrium, monsieur?" he asked. "You will permit me--" And without waiting for my consent, he relieved the balloon oftwo bags, which he threw into space. "Monsieur, " said I, taking the only course now possible, "youhave come; very well, you will remain; but to me alone belongsthe management of the balloon. " "Monsieur, " said he, "your urbanity is French all over: it comesfrom my own country. I morally press the hand you refuse me. Makeall precautions, and act as seems best to you. I will wait tillyou have done--" "For what?" "To talk with you. " The barometer had fallen to twenty-six inches. We were nearly sixhundred yards above the city; but nothing betrayed the horizontaldisplacement of the balloon, for the mass of air in which it isenclosed goes forward with it. A sort of confused glow envelopedthe objects spread out under us, and unfortunately obscured theiroutline. I examined my companion afresh. He was a man of thirty years, simply clad. The sharpness of hisfeatures betrayed an indomitable energy, and he seemed verymuscular. Indifferent to the astonishment he created, he remainedmotionless, trying to distinguish the objects which were vaguelyconfused below us. "Miserable mist!" said he, after a few moments. I did not reply. "You owe me a grudge?" he went on. "Bah! I could not pay for myjourney, and it was necessary to take you by surprise. " "Nobody asks you to descend, monsieur!" "Eh, do you not know, then, that the same thing happened to theCounts of Laurencin and Dampierre, when they ascended at Lyons, on the 15th of January, 1784? A young merchant, named Fontaine, scaled the gallery, at the risk of capsizing the machine. Heaccomplished the journey, and nobody died of it!" "Once on the ground, we will have an explanation, " replied I, piqued at the light tone in which he spoke. "Bah! Do not let us think of our return. " "Do you think, then, that I shall not hasten to descend?" "Descend!" said he, in surprise. "Descend? Let us begin by firstascending. " And before I could prevent it, two more bags had been thrown overthe car, without even having been emptied. "Monsieur!" cried I, in a rage. [Illustration: "Monsieur!" cried I, in a rage. ] "I know your ability, " replied the unknown quietly, "and yourfine ascents are famous. But if Experience is the sister ofPractice, she is also a cousin of Theory, and I have studied theaerial art long. It has got into my head!" he added sadly, falling into a silent reverie. The balloon, having risen some distance farther, now becamestationary. The unknown consulted the barometer, and said, -- "Here we are, at eight hundred yards. Men are like insects. See!I think we should always contemplate them from this height, tojudge correctly of their proportions. The Place de la Comédie istransformed into an immense ant-hill. Observe the crowd which isgathered on the quays; and the mountains also get smaller andsmaller. We are over the Cathedral. The Main is only a line, cutting the city in two, and the bridge seems a thread thrownbetween the two banks of the river. " The atmosphere became somewhat chilly. "There is nothing I would not do for you, my host, " said theunknown. "If you are cold, I will take off my coat and lend it toyou. " "Thanks, " said I dryly. "Bah! Necessity makes law. Give me your hand. I am yourfellow-countryman; you will learn something in my company, and myconversation will indemnify you for the trouble I have givenyou. " I sat down, without replying, at the opposite extremity of thecar. The young man had taken a voluminous manuscript from hisgreat-coat. It was an essay on ballooning. "I possess, " said he, "the most curious collection of engravingsand caricatures extant concerning aerial manias. How peopleadmired and scoffed at the same time at this precious discovery!We are happily no longer in the age in which Montgolfier tried tomake artificial clouds with steam, or a gas having electricalproperties, produced by the combustion of moist straw andchopped-up wool. " "Do you wish to depreciate the talent of the inventors?" I asked, for I had resolved to enter into the adventure. "Was it not goodto have proved by experience the possibility of rising in theair?" "Ah, monsieur, who denies the glory of the first aerialnavigators? It required immense courage to rise by means of thosefrail envelopes which only contained heated air. But I ask you, has the aerial science made great progress since Blanchard'sascensions, that is, since nearly a century ago? Look here, monsieur. " The unknown took an engraving from his portfolio. "Here, " said he, "is the first aerial voyage undertaken byPilâtre des Rosiers and the Marquis d'Arlandes, four months afterthe discovery of balloons. Louis XVI. Refused to consent to theventure, and two men who were condemned to death were the firstto attempt the aerial ascent. Pilâtre des Rosiers becameindignant at this injustice, and, by means of intrigues, obtainedpermission to make the experiment. The car, which renders themanagement easy, had not then been invented, and a circulargallery was placed around the lower and contracted part of theMontgolfier balloon. The two aeronauts must then remainmotionless at each extremity of this gallery, for the moist strawwhich filled it forbade them all motion. A chafing-dish with firewas suspended below the orifice of the balloon; when theaeronauts wished to rise, they threw straw upon this brazier, atthe risk of setting fire to the balloon, and the air, moreheated, gave it fresh ascending power. The two bold travellersrose, on the 21st of November, 1783, from the Muette Gardens, which the dauphin had put at their disposal. The balloon went upmajestically, passed over the Isle of Swans, crossed the Seine atthe Conference barrier, and, drifting between the dome of theInvalides and the Military School, approached the Church of SaintSulpice. Then the aeronauts added to the fire, crossed theBoulevard, and descended beyond the Enfer barrier. As it touchedthe soil, the balloon collapsed, and for a few moments buriedPilâtre des Rosiers under its folds. " "Unlucky augury, " I said, interested in the story, which affectedme nearly. "An augury of the catastrophe which was later to cost thisunfortunate man his life, " replied the unknown sadly. "Have younever experienced anything like it?" "Never, " "Bah! Misfortunes sometimes occur unforeshadowed!" added mycompanion. He then remained silent. Meanwhile we were advancing southward, and Frankfort had alreadypassed from beneath us. "Perhaps we shall have a storm, " said the young man. "We shall descend before that, " I replied. "Indeed! It is better to ascend. We shall escape it more surely. " And two more bags of sand were hurled into space. The balloon rose rapidly, and stopped at twelve hundred yards. Ibecame colder; and yet the sun's rays, falling upon the surface, expanded the gas within, and gave it a greater ascending force. "Fear nothing, " said the unknown. "We have still three thousandfive hundred fathoms of breathing air. Besides, do not troubleyourself about what I do. " I would have risen, but a vigorous hand held me to my seat. "Your name?" I asked. "My name? What matters it to you?" "I demand your name!" "My name is Erostratus or Empedocles, whichever you choose!" This reply was far from reassuring. The unknown, besides, talked with such strange coolness that Ianxiously asked myself whom I had to deal with. "Monsieur, " he continued, "nothing original has been imaginedsince the physicist Charles. Four months after the discovery ofballoons, this able man had invented the valve, which permits thegas to escape when the balloon is too full, or when you wish todescend; the car, which aids the management of the machine; thenetting, which holds the envelope of the balloon, and divides theweight over its whole surface; the ballast, which enables you toascend, and to choose the place of your landing; the india-rubbercoating, which renders the tissue impermeable; the barometer, which shows the height attained. Lastly, Charles used hydrogen, which, fourteen times lighter than air, permits you to penetrateto the highest atmospheric regions, and does not expose you tothe dangers of a combustion in the air. On the 1st of December, 1783, three hundred thousand spectators were crowded around theTuileries. Charles rose, and the soldiers presented arms to him. He travelled nine leagues in the air, conducting his balloon withan ability not surpassed by modern aeronauts. The king awardedhim a pension of two thousand livres; for then they encouragednew inventions. " The unknown now seemed to be under the influence of considerableagitation. "Monsieur, " he resumed, "I have studied this, and I am convincedthat the first aeronauts guided their balloons. Without speakingof Blanchard, whose assertions may be received with doubt, Guyton-Morveaux, by the aid of oars and rudder, made his machineanswer to the helm, and take the direction he determined on. Morerecently, M. Julien, a watchmaker, made some convincingexperiments at the Hippodrome, in Paris; for, by a specialmechanism, his aerial apparatus, oblong in form, went visiblyagainst the wind. It occurred to M. Petin to place four hydrogenballoons together; and, by means of sails hung horizontally andpartly folded, he hopes to be able to disturb the equilibrium, and, thus inclining the apparatus, to convey it in an obliquedirection. They speak, also, of forces to overcome the resistanceof currents, --for instance, the screw; but the screw, working ona moveable centre, will give no result. I, monsieur, havediscovered the only means of guiding balloons; and no academy hascome to my aid, no city has filled up subscriptions for me, nogovernment has thought fit to listen to me! It is infamous!" The unknown gesticulated fiercely, and the car underwent violentoscillations. I had much trouble in calming him. Meanwhile the balloon had entered a more rapid current, and weadvanced south, at fifteen hundred yards above the earth. "See, there is Darmstadt, " said my companion, leaning over thecar. "Do you perceive the château? Not very distinctly, eh? Whatwould you have? The heat of the storm makes the outline ofobjects waver, and you must have a skilled eye to recognizelocalities. " "Are you certain it is Darmstadt?" I asked. "I am sure of it. We are now six leagues from Frankfort. " "Then we must descend. " "Descend! You would not go down, on the steeples, " said theunknown, with a chuckle. "No, but in the suburbs of the city. " "Well, let us avoid the steeples!" So speaking, my companion seized some bags of ballast. I hastenedto prevent him; but he overthrew me with one hand, and theunballasted balloon ascended to two thousand yards. "Rest easy, " said he, "and do not forget that Brioschi, Biot, Gay-Lussac, Bixio, and Barral ascended to still greater heightsto make their scientific experiments. " "Monsieur, we must descend, " I resumed, trying to persuade him bygentleness. "The storm is gathering around us. It would be moreprudent--" "Bah! We will mount higher than the storm, and then we shall nolonger fear it!" cried my companion. "What is nobler than tooverlook the clouds which oppress the earth? Is it not an honourthus to navigate on aerial billows? The greatest men havetravelled as we are doing. The Marchioness and Countess deMontalembert, the Countess of Podenas, Mademoiselle la Garde, theMarquis de Montalembert, rose from the Faubourg Saint-Antoine forthese unknown regions, and the Duke de Chartres exhibited muchskill and presence of mind in his ascent on the 15th of July, 1784. At Lyons, the Counts of Laurencin and Dampierre; at Nantes, M. De Luynes; at Bordeaux, D'Arbelet des Granges; in Italy, theChevalier Andreani; in our own time, the Duke of Brunswick, --haveall left the traces of their glory in the air. To equal thesegreat personages, we must penetrate still higher than they intothe celestial depths! To approach the infinite is to comprehendit!" The rarefaction of the air was fast expanding the hydrogen in theballoon, and I saw its lower part, purposely left empty, swellout, so that it was absolutely necessary to open the valve; butmy companion did not seem to intend that I should manage theballoon as I wished. I then resolved to pull the valve cordsecretly, as he was excitedly talking; for I feared to guess withwhom I had to deal. It would have been too horrible! It wasnearly a quarter before one. We had been gone forty minutes fromFrankfort; heavy clouds were coming against the wind from thesouth, and seemed about to burst upon us. "Have you lost all hope of succeeding in your project?" I askedwith anxious interest. "All hope!" exclaimed the unknown in a low voice. "Wounded byslights and caricatures, these asses' kicks have finished me! Itis the eternal punishment reserved for innovators! Look at thesecaricatures of all periods, of which my portfolio is full. " While my companion was fumbling with his papers, I had seized thevalve-cord without his perceiving it. I feared, however, that hemight hear the hissing noise, like a water-course, which the gasmakes in escaping. "How many jokes were made about the Abbé Miolan!" said he. "Hewas to go up with Janninet and Bredin. During the filling theirballoon caught fire, and the ignorant populace tore it in pieces!Then this caricature of 'curious animals' appeared, giving eachof them a punning nickname. " I pulled the valve-cord, and the barometer began to ascend. Itwas time. Some far-off rumblings were heard in the south. "Here is another engraving, " resumed the unknown, not suspectingwhat I was doing. "It is an immense balloon carrying a ship, strong castles, houses, and so on. The caricaturists did notsuspect that their follies would one day become truths. It iscomplete, this large vessel. On the left is its helm, with thepilot's box; at the prow are pleasure-houses, an immense organ, and a cannon to call the attention of the inhabitants of theearth or the moon; above the poop there are the observatory andthe balloon long-boat; in the equatorial circle, the armybarrack; on the left, the funnel; then the upper galleries forpromenading, sails, pinions; below, the cafés and generalstorehouse. Observe this pompous announcement: 'Invented for thehappiness of the human race, this globe will depart at once forthe ports of the Levant, and on its return the programme of itsvoyages to the two poles and the extreme west will be announced. No one need furnish himself with anything; everything isforeseen, and all will prosper. There will be a uniform price forall places of destination, but it will be the same for the mostdistant countries of our hemisphere--that is to say, a thousandlouis for one of any of the said journeys. And it must beconfessed that this sum is very moderate, when the speed, comfort, and arrangements which will be enjoyed on the balloonare considered--arrangements which are not to be found on land, while on the balloon each passenger may consult his own habitsand tastes. This is so true that in the same place some will bedancing, others standing; some will be enjoying delicacies;others fasting. Whoever desires the society of wits may satisfyhimself; whoever is stupid may find stupid people to keep himcompany. Thus pleasure will be the soul of the aerial company. 'All this provoked laughter; but before long, if I am not cut off, they will see it all realized. " We were visibly descending. He did not perceive it! "This kind of 'game at balloons, '" he resumed, spreading outbefore me some of the engravings of his valuable collection, "this game contains the entire history of the aerostatic art. Itis used by elevated minds, and is played with dice and counters, with whatever stakes you like, to be paid or received accordingto where the player arrives. " "Why, " said I, "you seem to have studied the science ofaerostation profoundly. " "Yes, monsieur, yes! From Phaethon, Icarus, Architas, I havesearched for, examined, learnt everything. I could render immenseservices to the world in this art, if God granted me life. Butthat will not be!" "Why?" "Because my name is Empedocles, or Erostratus. " Meanwhile, the balloon was happily approaching the earth; butwhen one is falling, the danger is as great at a hundred feet asat five thousand. "Do you recall the battle of Fleurus?" resumed my companion, whose face became more and more animated. "It was at that battlethat Contello, by order of the Government, organized a company ofballoonists. At the siege of Manbenge General Jourdan derived somuch service from this new method of observation that Contelloascended twice a day with the general himself. The communicationsbetween the aeronaut and his agents who held the balloon weremade by means of small white, red, and yellow flags. Often thegun and cannon shot were directed upon the balloon when heascended, but without result. When General Jourdan was preparingto invest Charleroi, Contello went into the vicinity, ascendedfrom the plain of Jumet, and continued his observations for sevenor eight hours with General Morlot, and this no doubt aided ingiving us the victory of Fleurus. General Jourdan publiclyacknowledged the help which the aeronautical observations hadafforded him. Well, despite the services rendered on thatoccasion and during the Belgian campaign, the year which had seenthe beginning of the military career of balloons saw also itsend. The school of Meudon, founded by the Government, was closedby Buonaparte on his return from Egypt. And now, what can youexpect from the new-born infant? as Franklin said. The infant wasborn alive; it should not be stifled!" [Illustration: "He continued his observations for seven or eighthours with General Morlot"] The unknown bowed his head in his hands, and reflected for somemoments; then raising his head, he said, -- "Despite my prohibition, monsieur, you have opened the valve. " I dropped the cord. "Happily, " he resumed, "we have still three hundred pounds ofballast. " "What is your purpose?" said I. "Have you ever crossed the seas?" he asked. I turned pale. "It is unfortunate, " he went on, "that we are being driventowards the Adriatic. That is only a stream; but higher up we mayfind other currents. " And, without taking any notice of me, he threw over several bagsof sand; then, in a menacing voice, he said, -- "I let you open the valve because the expansion of the gasthreatened to burst the balloon; but do not do it again!" Then he went on as follows:-- "You remember the voyage of Blanchard and Jeffries from Dover toCalais? It was magnificent! On the 7th of January, 1785, therebeing a north-west wind, their balloon was inflated with gas onthe Dover coast. A mistake of equilibrium, just as they wereascending, forced them to throw out their ballast so that theymight not go down again, and they only kept thirty pounds. It wastoo little; for, as the wind did not freshen, they only advancedvery slowly towards the French coast. Besides, the permeabilityof the tissue served to reduce the inflation little by little, and in an hour and a half the aeronauts perceived that they weredescending. "'What shall we do?' said Jeffries. "'We are only one quarter of the way over, ' replied Blanchard, 'and very low down. On rising, we shall perhaps meet morefavourable winds. ' "'Let us throw out the rest of the sand. ' "The balloon acquired some ascending force, but it soon began todescend again. Towards the middle of the transit the aeronautsthrew over their books and tools. A quarter of an hour after, Blanchard said to Jeffries, -- "'The barometer?' "'It is going up! We are lost, and yet there is the Frenchcoast. ' "A loud noise was heard. "'Has the balloon burst?' asked Jeffries. "'No. The loss of the gas has reduced the inflation of the lowerpart of the balloon. But we are still descending. We are lost!Out with everything useless!' "Provisions, oars, and rudder were thrown into the sea. Theaeronauts were only one hundred yards high. "'We are going up again, ' said the doctor. "'No. It is the spurt caused by the diminution of the weight, andnot a ship in sight, not a bark on the horizon! To the sea withour clothing!' "The unfortunates stripped themselves, but the balloon continuedto descend. "'Blanchard, ' said Jeffries, 'you should have made this voyagealone; you consented to take me; I will sacrifice myself! I amgoing to throw myself into the water, and the balloon, relievedof my weight, will mount again. ' "'No, no! It is frightful!' "The balloon became less and less inflated, and as it doubled upits concavity pressed the gas against the sides, and hastened itsdownward course. [Illustration: The balloon became less and less inflated] "'Adieu, my friend, " said the doctor. 'God preserve you!' "He was about to throw himself over, when Blanchard held himback. "'There is one more chance, ' said he. 'We can cut the cords whichhold the car, and cling to the net! Perhaps the balloon willrise. Let us hold ourselves ready. But--the barometer is goingdown! The wind is freshening! We are saved!' "The aeronauts perceived Calais. Their joy was delirious. A fewmoments more, and they had fallen in the forest of Guines. I donot doubt, " added the unknown, "that, under similar circumstances, you would have followed Doctor Jeffries' example!" The clouds rolled in glittering masses beneath us. The balloonthrew large shadows on this heap of clouds, and was surrounded asby an aureola. The thunder rumbled below the car. All this wasterrifying. "Let us descend!" I cried. "Descend, when the sun is up there, waiting for us? Out with morebags!" And more than fifty pounds of ballast were cast over. At a height of three thousand five hundred yards we remainedstationary. The unknown talked unceasingly. I was in a state of completeprostration, while he seemed to be in his element. "With a good wind, we shall go far, " he cried. "In the Antillesthere are currents of air which have a speed of a hundred leaguesan hour. When Napoleon was crowned, Garnerin sent up a balloonwith coloured lamps, at eleven o'clock at night. The wind wasblowing north-north-west. The next morning, at daybreak, theinhabitants of Rome greeted its passage over the dome of St. Peter's. We shall go farther and higher!" I scarcely heard him. Everything whirled around me. An openingappeared in the clouds. "See that city, " said the unknown. "It is Spires!" I leaned over the car and perceived a small blackish mass. It wasSpires. The Rhine, which is so large, seemed an unrolled ribbon. The sky was a deep blue over our heads. The birds had longabandoned us, for in that rarefied air they could not have flown. We were alone in space, and I in presence of this unknown! "It is useless for you to know whither I am leading you, " hesaid, as he threw the compass among the clouds. "Ah! a fall is agrand thing! You know that but few victims of ballooning are tobe reckoned, from Pilâtre des Rosiers to Lieutenant Gale, andthat the accidents have always been the result of imprudence. Pilâtre des Rosiers set out with Romain of Boulogne, on the 13thof June, 1785. To his gas balloon he had affixed a Montgolfierapparatus of hot air, so as to dispense, no doubt, with thenecessity of losing gas or throwing out ballast. It was putting atorch under a powder-barrel. When they had ascended four hundredyards, and were taken by opposing winds, they were driven overthe open sea. Pilâtre, in order to descend, essayed to open thevalve, but the valve-cord became entangled in the balloon, andtore it so badly that it became empty in an instant. It fell uponthe Montgolfier apparatus, overturned it, and dragged down theunfortunates, who were soon shattered to pieces! It is frightful, is it not?" I could only reply, "For pity's sake, let us descend!" The clouds gathered around us on every side, and dreadfuldetonations, which reverberated in the cavity of the balloon, took place beneath us. "You provoke me, " cried the unknown, "and you shall no longerknow whether we are rising or falling!" The barometer went the way of the compass, accompanied by severalmore bags of sand. We must have been 5000 yards high. Someicicles had already attached themselves to the sides of the car, and a kind of fine snow seemed to penetrate to my very bones. Meanwhile a frightful tempest was raging under us, but we wereabove it. "Do not be afraid, " said the unknown. "It is only the imprudentwho are lost. Olivari, who perished at Orleans, rose in a paper'Montgolfier;' his car, suspended below the chafing-dish, andballasted with combustible materials, caught fire; Olivari fell, and was killed! Mosment rose, at Lille, on a light tray; anoscillation disturbed his equilibrium; Mosment fell, and waskilled! Bittorf, at Mannheim, saw his balloon catch fire in theair; and he, too, fell, and was killed! Harris rose in a badlyconstructed balloon, the valve of which was too large and wouldnot shut; Harris fell, and was killed! Sadler, deprived ofballast by his long sojourn in the air, was dragged over the townof Boston and dashed against the chimneys; Sadler fell, and waskilled! Cokling descended with a convex parachute which hepretended to have perfected; Cokling fell, and was killed! Well, I love them, these victims of their own imprudence, and I shalldie as they did. Higher! still higher!" All the phantoms of this necrology passed before my eyes. Therarefaction of the air and the sun's rays added to the expansionof the gas, and the balloon continued to mount. I triedmechanically to open the valve, but the unknown cut the cordseveral feet above my head. I was lost! "Did you see Madame Blanchard fall?" said he. "I saw her; yes, I!I was at Tivoli on the 6th of July, 1819. Madame Blanchard rosein a small sized balloon, to avoid the expense of filling, andshe was forced to entirely inflate it. The gas leaked out below, and left a regular train of hydrogen in its path. She carriedwith her a sort of pyrotechnic aureola, suspended below her carby a wire, which she was to set off in the air. This she had donemany times before. On this day she also carried up a smallparachute ballasted by a firework contrivance, that would go offin a shower of silver. She was to start this contrivance afterhaving lighted it with a port-fire made on purpose. She set out;the night was gloomy. At the moment of lighting her fireworks shewas so imprudent as to pass the taper under the column ofhydrogen which was leaking from the balloon. My eyes were fixedupon her. Suddenly an unexpected gleam lit up the darkness. Ithought she was preparing a surprise. The light flashed out, suddenly disappeared and reappeared, and gave the summit of theballoon the shape of an immense jet of ignited gas. This sinisterglow shed itself over the Boulevard and the whole Montmartrequarter. Then I saw the unhappy woman rise, try twice to closethe appendage of the balloon, so as to put out the fire, then sitdown in her car and try to guide her descent; for she did notfall. The combustion of the gas lasted for several minutes. Theballoon, becoming gradually less, continued to descend, but itwas not a fall. The wind blew from the north-west and drove ittowards Paris. There were then some large gardens just by thehouse No. 16, Rue de Provence. Madame Blanchard essayed to fallthere without danger: but the balloon and the car struck on theroof of the house with a light shock. 'Save me!' cried thewretched woman. I got into the street at this moment. The carslid along the roof, and encountered an iron cramp. At thisconcussion, Madame Blanchard was thrown out of her car andprecipitated upon the pavement. She was killed!" These stories froze me with horror. The unknown was standing withbare head, dishevelled hair, haggard eyes! There was no longer any illusion possible. I at last recognizedthe horrible truth. I was in the presence of a madman! He threw out the rest of the ballast, and we must have nowreached a height of at least nine thousand yards. Blood spurtedfrom my nose and mouth! "Who are nobler than the martyrs of science?" cried the lunatic. "They are canonized by posterity. " But I no longer heard him. He looked about him, and, bending downto my ear, muttered, -- "And have you forgotten Zambecarri's catastrophe? Listen. On the7th of October, 1804, the clouds seemed to lift a little. On thepreceding days, the wind and rain had not ceased; but theannounced ascension of Zambecarri could not be postponed. Hisenemies were already bantering him. It was necessary to ascend, to save the science and himself from becoming a public jest. Itwas at Boulogne. No one helped him to inflate his balloon. "He rose at midnight, accompanied by Andreoli and Grossetti. Theballoon mounted slowly, for it had been perforated by the rain, and the gas was leaking out. The three intrepid aeronauts couldonly observe the state of the barometer by aid of a dark lantern. Zambecarri had eaten nothing for twenty-four hours. Grossetti wasalso fasting. "'My friends, ' said Zambecarri, 'I am overcome by cold, andexhausted. I am dying. ' "He fell inanimate in the gallery. It was the same withGrossetti. Andreoli alone remained conscious. After long efforts, he succeeded in reviving Zambecarri. "'What news? Whither are we going? How is the wind? What time isit?' "'It is two o'clock. ' "'Where is the compass?' "'Upset!' "'Great God! The lantern has gone out!' "'It cannot burn in this rarefied air, ' said Zambecarri. "The moon had not risen, and the atmosphere was plunged in murkydarkness. "'I am cold, Andreoli. What shall I do?' "They slowly descended through a layer of whitish clouds. "'Sh!' said Andreoli. 'Do you hear?' "'What?' asked Zambecarri. "'A strange noise. ' "'You are mistaken. ' "'No. ' "Consider these travellers, in the middle of the night, listeningto that unaccountable noise! Are they going to knock against atower? Are they about to be precipitated on the roofs? "'Do you hear? One would say it was the noise of the sea. ' "'Impossible!' "'It is the groaning of the waves!' "'It is true. ' "'Light! light!' "After five fruitless attempts, Andreoli succeeded in obtaininglight. It was three o'clock. "The voice of violent waves was heard. They were almost touchingthe surface of the sea! "'We are lost!' cried Zambecarri, seizing a large bag of sand. "'Help!' cried Andreoli. "The car touched the water, and the waves came up to theirbreasts. "'Throw out the instruments, clothes, money!' "The aeronauts completely stripped themselves. The balloon, relieved, rose with frightful rapidity. Zambecarri was taken withvomiting. Grossetti bled profusely. The unfortunate men could notspeak, so short was their breathing. They were taken with cold, and they were soon crusted over with ice. The moon looked as redas blood. "After traversing the high regions for a half-hour, the balloonagain fell into the sea. It was four in the morning. They werehalf submerged in the water, and the balloon dragged them along, as if under sail, for several hours. "At daybreak they found themselves opposite Pesaro, four milesfrom the coast. They were about to reach it, when a gale blewthem back into the open sea. They were lost! The frightened boatsfled at their approach. Happily, a more intelligent boatmanaccosted them, hoisted them on board, and they landed at Ferrada. "A frightful journey, was it not? But Zambecarri was a brave andenergetic man. Scarcely recovered from his sufferings, he resumedhis ascensions. During one of them he struck against a tree; hisspirit-lamp was broken on his clothes; he was enveloped in fire, his balloon began to catch the flames, and he came down halfconsumed. "At last, on the 21st of September, 1812, he made anotherascension at Boulogne. The balloon clung to a tree, and his lampagain set it on fire. Zambecarri fell, and was killed! And inpresence of these facts, we would still hesitate! No. The higherwe go, the more glorious will be our death!" [Illustration: "Zambecarri fell, and was killed!"] The balloon being now entirely relieved of ballast and of all itcontained, we were carried to an enormous height. It vibrated inthe atmosphere. The least noise resounded in the vaults ofheaven. Our globe, the only object which caught my view inimmensity, seemed ready to be annihilated, and above us thedepths of the starry skies were lost in thick darkness. I saw my companion rise up before me. "The hour is come!" he said. "We must die. We are rejected ofmen. They despise us. Let us crush them!" "Mercy!" I cried. "Let us cut these cords! Let this car be abandoned in space. Theattractive force will change its direction, and we shall approachthe sun!" Despair galvanized me. I threw myself upon the madman, westruggled together, and a terrible conflict took place. But I wasthrown down, and while he held me under his knee, the madman wascutting the cords of the car. "One!" he cried. "My God!" "Two! Three!" I made a superhuman effort, rose up, and violently repulsed themadman. "Four!" The car fell, but I instinctively clung to the cords and hoistedmyself into the meshes of the netting. The madman disappeared in space! [Illustration: The madman disappeared in space!] The balloon was raised to an immeasurable height. A horriblecracking was heard. The gas, too much dilated, had burst theballoon. I shut my eyes-- Some instants after, a damp warmth revived me. I was in the midstof clouds on fire. The balloon turned over with dizzy velocity. Taken by the wind, it made a hundred leagues an hour in ahorizontal course, the lightning flashing around it. Meanwhile my fall was not a very rapid one. When I opened myeyes, I saw the country. I was two miles from the sea, and thetempest was driving me violently towards it, when an abrupt shockforced me to loosen my hold. My hands opened, a cord slippedswiftly between my fingers, and I found myself on the solidearth! It was the cord of the anchor, which, sweeping along the surfaceof the ground, was caught in a crevice; and my balloon, unballasted for the last time, careered off to lose itself beyondthe sea. When I came to myself, I was in bed in a peasant's cottage, atHarderwick, a village of La Gueldre, fifteen leagues fromAmsterdam, on the shores of the Zuyder-Zee. A miracle had saved my life, but my voyage had been a series ofimprudences, committed by a lunatic, and I had not been able toprevent them. May this terrible narrative, though instructing those who readit, not discourage the explorers of the air. A WINTER AMID THE ICE. CHAPTER I. THE BLACK FLAG. The curé of the ancient church of Dunkirk rose at five o'clock onthe 12th of May, 18--, to perform, according to his custom, lowmass for the benefit of a few pious sinners. Attired in his priestly robes, he was about to proceed to thealtar, when a man entered the sacristy, at once joyous andfrightened. He was a sailor of some sixty years, but stillvigorous and sturdy, with, an open, honest countenance. "Monsieur the curé, " said he, "stop a moment, if you please. " [Illustration: "Monsieur the curé, " said he, "stop a moment, ifyou please. "] "What do you want so early in the morning, Jean Cornbutte?" askedthe curé. "What do I want? Why, to embrace you in my arms, i' faith!" "Well, after the mass at which you are going to be present--" "The mass?" returned the old sailor, laughing. "Do you think youare going to say your mass now, and that I will let you do so?" "And why should I not say my mass?" asked the curé. "Explainyourself. The third bell has sounded--" "Whether it has or not, " replied Jean Cornbutte, "it will soundmany more times to-day, monsieur the curé, for you have promisedme that you will bless, with your own hands, the marriage of myson Louis and my niece Marie!" "He has arrived, then, " said the curé "joyfully. "It is nearly the same thing, " replied Cornbutte, rubbing hishands. "Our brig was signalled from the look out at sunrise, --ourbrig, which you yourself christened by the good name of the'Jeune-Hardie'!" "I congratulate you with all my heart, Cornbutte, " said the curé, taking off his chasuble and stole. "I remember our agreement. Thevicar will take my place, and I will put myself at your disposalagainst your dear son's arrival. " "And I promise you that he will not make you fast long, " repliedthe sailor. "You have already published the banns, and you willonly have to absolve him from the sins he may have committedbetween sky and water, in the Northern Ocean. I had a good idea, that the marriage should be celebrated the very day he arrived, and that my son Louis should leave his ship to repair at once tothe church. " "Go, then, and arrange everything, Cornbutte. " "I fly, monsieur the curé. Good morning!" The sailor hastened with rapid steps to his house, which stood onthe quay, whence could be seen the Northern Ocean, of which heseemed so proud. Jean Cornbutte had amassed a comfortable sum at his calling. After having long commanded the vessels of a rich shipowner ofHavre, he had settled down in his native town, where he hadcaused the brig "Jeune-Hardie" to be constructed at his ownexpense. Several successful voyages had been made in the North, and the ship always found a good sale for its cargoes of wood, iron, and tar. Jean Cornbutte then gave up the command of her tohis son Louis, a fine sailor of thirty, who, according to all thecoasting captains, was the boldest mariner in Dunkirk. Louis Cornbutte had gone away deeply attached to Marie, hisfather's niece, who found the time of his absence very long andweary. Marie was scarcely twenty. She was a pretty Flemish girl, with some Dutch blood in her veins. Her mother, when she wasdying, had confided her to her brother, Jean Cornbutte. The braveold sailor loved her as a daughter, and saw in her proposed unionwith Louis a source of real and durable happiness. The arrival of the ship, already signalled off the coast, completed an important business operation, from which JeanCornbutte expected large profits. The "Jeune-Hardie, " which hadleft three months before, came last from Bodoë, on the west coastof Norway, and had made a quick voyage thence. On returning home, Jean Cornbutte found the whole house alive. Marie, with radiant face, had assumed her wedding-dress. "I hope the ship will not arrive before we are ready!" she said. "Hurry, little one, " replied Jean Cornbutte, "for the wind isnorth, and she sails well, you know, when she goes freely. " "Have our friends been told, uncle?" asked Marie. "They have. " "The notary, and the curé?" "Rest easy. You alone are keeping us waiting. " At this moment Clerbaut, an old crony, came in. "Well, old Cornbutte, " cried he, "here's luck! Your ship hasarrived at the very moment that the government has decided tocontract for a large quantity of wood for the navy!" "What is that to me?" replied Jean Cornbutte. "What care I forthe government?" "You see, Monsieur Clerbaut, " said Marie, "one thing only absorbsus, --Louis's return. " "I don't dispute that, " replied Clerbaut. "But--in short--thispurchase of wood--" "And you shall be at the wedding, " replied Jean Cornbutte, interrupting the merchant, and shaking his hand as if he wouldcrush it. "This purchase of wood--" "And with all our friends, landsmen and seamen, Clerbaut. I havealready informed everybody, and I shall invite the whole crew ofthe ship. " "And shall we go and await them on the pier?" asked Marie. "Indeed we will, " replied Jean Cornbutte. "We will defile, two bytwo, with the violins at the head. " Jean Cornbutte's invited guests soon arrived. Though it was veryearly, not a single one failed to appear. All congratulated thehonest old sailor whom they loved. Meanwhile Marie, kneelingdown, changed her prayers to God into thanksgivings. She soonreturned, lovely and decked out, to the company; and all thewomen kissed her on the check, while the men vigorously graspedher by the hand. Then Jean Cornbutte gave the signal ofdeparture. It was a curious sight to see this joyous group taking its way, at sunrise, towards the sea. The news of the ship's arrival hadspread through the port, and many heads, in nightcaps, appearedat the windows and at the half-opened doors. Sincere complimentsand pleasant nods came from every side. The party reached the pier in the midst of a concert of praiseand blessings. The weather was magnificent, and the sun seemed totake part in the festivity. A fresh north wind made the wavesfoam; and some fishing-smacks, their sails trimmed for leavingport, streaked the sea with their rapid wakes between thebreakwaters. The two piers of Dunkirk stretch far out into the sea. Thewedding-party occupied the whole width of the northern pier, andsoon reached a small house situated at its extremity, inhabitedby the harbour-master. The wind freshened, and the "Jeune-Hardie"ran swiftly under her topsails, mizzen, brigantine, gallant, androyal. There was evidently rejoicing on board as well as on land. Jean Cornbutte, spy-glass in hand, responded merrily to thequestions of his friends. "See my ship!" he cried; "clean and steady as if she had beenrigged at Dunkirk! Not a bit of damage done, --not a ropewanting!" "Do you see your son, the captain?" asked one. "No, not yet. Why, he's at his business!" "Why doesn't he run up his flag?" asked Clerbaut. "I scarcely know, old friend. He has a reason for it, no doubt. " "Your spy-glass, uncle?" said Marie, taking it from him. "I wantto be the first to see him. " "But he is my son, mademoiselle!" "He has been your son for thirty years, " answered the young girl, laughing, "and he has only been my betrothed for two!" The "Jeune-Hardie" was now entirely visible. Already the crewwere preparing to cast anchor. The upper sails had been reefed. The sailors who were among the rigging might be recognized. Butneither Marie nor Jean Cornbutte had yet been able to wave theirhands at the captain of the ship. "Faith! there's the first mate, André Vasling, " cried Clerbaut. "And there's Fidèle Misonne, the carpenter, " said another. "And our friend Penellan, " said a third, saluting the sailornamed. The "Jeune-Hardie" was only three cables' lengths from the shore, when a black flag ascended to the gaff of the brigantine. Therewas mourning on board! A shudder of terror seized the party and the heart of the younggirl. The ship sadly swayed into port, and an icy silence reigned onits deck. Soon it had passed the end of the pier. Marie, JeanCornbutte, and all their friends hurried towards the quay atwhich she was to anchor, and in a moment found themselves onboard. "My son!" said Jean Cornbutte, who could only articulate thesewords. The sailors, with uncovered heads, pointed to the mourning flag. Marie uttered a cry of anguish, and fell into old Cornbutte'sarms. André Vasling had brought back the "Jeune-Hardie, " but LouisCornbutte, Marie's betrothed, was not on board. CHAPTER II. Jean Cornbutte's Project. As soon as the young girl, confided to the care of thesympathizing friends, had left the ship, André Vasling, the mate, apprised Jean Cornbutte of the dreadful event which had deprivedhim of his son, narrated in the ship's journal as follows:-- [Illustration: André Vasling, the mate, apprised Jean Cornbutteof the dreadful event] "At the height of the Maëlstrom, on the 26th of April, the ship, putting for the cape, by reason of bad weather and south-westwinds, perceived signals of distress made by a schooner to theleeward. This schooner, deprived of its mizzen-mast, was runningtowards the whirlpool, under bare poles. Captain Louis Cornbutte, seeing that this vessel was hastening into imminent danger, resolved to go on board her. Despite the remonstrances of hiscrew, he had the long-boat lowered into the sea, and got into it, with the sailor Courtois and the helmsman Pierre Nouquet. Thecrew watched them until they disappeared in the fog. Night cameon. The sea became more and more boisterous. The "Jeune-Hardie", drawn by the currents in those parts, was in danger of beingengulfed by the Maëlstrom. She was obliged to fly before thewind. For several days she hovered near the place of thedisaster, but in vain. The long-boat, the schooner, CaptainLouis, and the two sailors did not reappear. André Vasling thencalled the crew together, took command of the ship, and set sailfor Dunkirk. " After reading this dry narrative, Jean Cornbutte wept for a longtime; and if he had any consolation, it was the thought that hisson had died in attempting to save his fellow-men. Then the poorfather left the ship, the sight of which made him wretched, andreturned to his desolate home. The sad news soon spread throughout Dunkirk. The many friends ofthe old sailor came to bring him their cordial and sinceresympathy. Then the sailors of the "Jeune-Hardie" gave a moreparticular account of the event, and André Vasling told Marie, atgreat length, of the devotion of her betrothed to the last. When he ceased weeping, Jean Cornbutte thought over the matter, and the next day after the ship's arrival, when Andre came to seehim, said, -- "Are you very sure, André, that my son has perished?" "Alas, yes, Monsieur Jean, " replied the mate. "And you made all possible search for him?" "All, Monsieur Cornbutte. But it is unhappily but too certainthat he and the two sailors were sucked down in the whirlpool ofthe Maëlstrom. " "Would you like, André, to keep the second command of the ship?" "That will depend upon the captain, Monsieur Cornbutte. " "I shall be the captain, " replied the old sailor. "I am going todischarge the cargo with all speed, make up my crew, and sail insearch of my son. " "Your son is dead!" said André obstinately. "It is possible, Andre, " replied Jean Cornbutte sharply, "but itis also possible that he saved himself. I am going to rummage allthe ports of Norway whither he might have been driven, and when Iam fully convinced that I shall never see him again, I willreturn here to die!" André Vasling, seeing that this decision was irrevocable, did notinsist further, but went away. Jean Cornbutte at once apprised his niece of his intention, andhe saw a few rays of hope glisten across her tears. It had notseemed to the young girl that her lover's death might bedoubtful; but scarcely had this new hope entered her heart, thanshe embraced it without reserve. The old sailor determined that the "Jeune-Hardie" should put tosea without delay. The solidly built ship had no need of repairs. Jean Cornbutte gave his sailors notice that if they wished tore-embark, no change in the crew would be made. He alone replacedhis son in the command of the brig. None of the comrades of LouisCornbutte failed to respond to his call, and there were hardytars among them, --Alaine Turquiette, Fidèle Misonne thecarpenter, Penellan the Breton, who replaced Pierre Nouquet ashelmsman, and Gradlin, Aupic, and Gervique, courageous and well-triedmariners. Jean Cornbutte again offered André Vasling his old rank on board. The first mate was an able officer, who had proved his skill inbringing the "Jeune-Hardie" into port. Yet, from what motivecould not be told, André made some difficulties and asked timefor reflection. "As you will, André Vasling, " replied Cornbutte. "Only rememberthat if you accept, you will be welcome among us. " Jean had a devoted sailor in Penellan the Breton, who had longbeen his fellow-voyager. In times gone by, little Marie was wontto pass the long winter evenings in the helmsman's arms, when hewas on shore. He felt a fatherly friendship for her, and she hadfor him ah affection quite filial. Penellan hastened the fittingout of the ship with all his energy, all the more because, according to his opinion, André Vasling had not perhaps madeevery effort possible to find the castaways, although he wasexcusable from the responsibility which weighed upon him ascaptain. Within a week the "Jeune-Hardie" was ready to put to sea. Insteadof merchandise, she was completely provided with salt meats, biscuits, barrels of flour, potatoes, pork, wine, brandy, coffee, tea, and tobacco. The departure was fixed for the 22nd of May. On the eveningbefore, André Vasling, who had not yet given his answer to JeanCornbutte, came to his house. He was still undecided, and did notknow which course to take. Jean was not at home, though the house-door was open. André wentinto the passage, next to Marie's chamber, where the sound of ananimated conversation struck his ear. He listened attentively, and recognized the voices of Penellan and Marie. The discussion had no doubt been going on for some time, for theyoung girl seemed to be stoutly opposing what the Breton sailorsaid. "How old is my uncle Cornbutte?" said Marie. "Something about sixty years, " replied Penellan. "Well, is he not going to brave danger to find his son?" "Our captain is still a sturdy man, " returned the sailor. "He hasa body of oak and muscles as hard as a spare spar. So I am notafraid to have him go to sea again!'" "My good Penellan, " said Marie, "one is strong when one loves!Besides, I have full confidence in the aid of Heaven. Youunderstand me, and will help me. " "No!" said Penellan. "It is impossible, Marie. Who knows whitherwe shall drift, or what we must suffer? How many vigorous menhave I seen lose their lives in these seas!" "Penellan, " returned the young girl, "if you refuse me, I shallbelieve that you do not love me any longer. " André Vasling understood the young girl's resolution. Hereflected a moment, and his course was determined on. "Jean Cornbutte, " said he, advancing towards the old sailor, whonow entered, "I will go with you. The cause of my hesitation hasdisappeared, and you may count upon my devotion. " "I have never doubted you, André Vasling, " replied JeanCornbutte, grasping him by the hand. "Marie, my child!" he added, calling in a loud voice. Marie and Penellan made their appearance. "We shall set sail to-morrow at daybreak, with the outgoingtide, " said Jean. "My poor Marie, this is the last evening thatwe shall pass together. "Uncle!" cried Marie, throwing herself into his arms. "Marie, by the help of God, I will bring your lover back to you!" "Yes, we will find Louis, " added André Vasling. "You are going with us, then?" asked Penellan quickly. "Yes, Penellan, André Vasling is to be my first mate, " answeredJean. "Oh, oh!" ejaculated the Breton, in a singular tone. "And his advice will be useful to us, for he is able andenterprising. "And yourself, captain, " said André. "You will set us all a goodexample, for you have still as much vigour as experience. " "Well, my friends, good-bye till to-morrow. Go on board and makethe final arrangements. Good-bye, André; good-bye, Penellan. " The mate and the sailor went out together, and Jean and Marieremained alone. Many bitter tears were shed during that sadevening. Jean Cornbutte, seeing Marie so wretched, resolved tospare her the pain of separation by leaving the house on themorrow without her knowledge. So he gave her a last kiss thatevening, and at three o'clock next morning was up and away. The departure of the brig had attracted all the old sailor'sfriends to the pier. The curé, who was to have blessed Marie'sunion with Louis, came to give a last benediction on the ship. Rough grasps of the hand were silently exchanged, and Jean wenton board. The crew were all there. André Vasling gave the last orders. Thesails were spread, and the brig rapidly passed out under a stiffnorth-west breeze, whilst the cure, upright in the midst of thekneeling spectators, committed the vessel to the hands of God. Whither goes this ship? She follows the perilous route upon whichso many castaways have been lost! She has no certain destination. She must expect every peril, and be able to brave them withouthesitating. God alone knows where it will be her fate to anchor. May God guide her! CHAPTER III. A RAY OF HOPE. At that time of the year the season was favourable, and the crewmight hope promptly to reach the scene of the shipwreck. Jean Cornbutte's plan was naturally traced out. He counted onstopping at the Feroë Islands, whither the north wind might havecarried the castaways; then, if he was convinced that they hadnot been received in any of the ports of that locality, he wouldcontinue his search beyond the Northern Ocean, ransack the wholewestern coast of Norway as far as Bodoë, the place nearest thescene of the shipwreck; and, if necessary, farther still. André Vasling thought, contrary to the captain's opinion, thatthe coast of Iceland should be explored; but Penellan observedthat, at the time of the catastrophe, the gale came from thewest; which, while it gave hope that the unfortunates had notbeen forced towards the gulf of the Maëlstrom, gave ground forsupposing that they might have been thrown on the Norwegiancoast. It was determined, then, that this coast should be followed asclosely as possible, so as to recognize any traces of them thatmight appear. The day after sailing, Jean Cornbutte, intent upon a map, wasabsorbed in reflection, when a small hand touched his shoulder, and a soft voice said in his ear, -- "Have good courage, uncle. " [Illustration: A soft voice said in his ear, "Have good courage, uncle. "] He turned, and was stupefied. Marie embraced him. "Marie, my daughter, on board!" he cried. "The wife may well go in search of her husband, when the fatherembarks to save his child. " "Unhappy Marie! How wilt thou support our fatigues! Dost thouknow that thy presence may be injurious to our search?" "No, uncle, for I am strong. " "Who knows whither we shall be forced to go, Marie? Look at thismap. We are approaching places dangerous even for us sailors, hardened though we are to the difficulties of the sea. And thou, frail child?" "But, uncle, I come from a family of sailors. I am used tostories of combats and tempests. I am with you and my old friendPenellan!" "Penellan! It was he who concealed you on board?" "Yes, uncle; but only when he saw that I was determined to comewithout his help. " "Penellan!" cried Jean. Penellan entered. "It is not possible to undo what you have done, Penellan; butremember that you are responsible for Marie's life. " "Rest easy, captain, " replied Penellan. "The little one has forceand courage, and will be our guardian angel. And then, captain, you know it is my theory, that all in this world happens for thebest. " The young girl was installed in a cabin, which the sailors soongot ready for her, and which they made as comfortable aspossible. A week later the "Jeune-Hardie" stopped at the Feroë Islands, butthe most minute search was fruitless. Mo wreck, or fragments of aship had come upon these coasts. Even the news of the event wasquite unknown. The brig resumed its voyage, after a stay of tendays, about the 10th of June. The sea was calm, and the windswere favourable. The ship sped rapidly towards the Norwegiancoast, which it explored without better result. Jean Cornbutte determined to proceed to Bodoë. Perhaps he wouldthere learn the name of the shipwrecked schooner to succour whichLouis and the sailors had sacrificed themselves. On the 30th of June the brig cast anchor in that port. The authorities of Bodoë gave Jean Cornbutte a bottle found onthe coast, which contained a document bearing these words:-- "This 26th April, on board the 'Froöern, ' after being accosted bythe long-boat of the 'Jeune-Hardie, ' we were drawn by thecurrents towards the ice. God have pity on us!" Jean Cornbutte's first impulse was to thank Heaven. He thoughthimself on his son's track. The "Froöern" was a Norwegian sloopof which there had been no news, but which had evidently beendrawn northward. Not a day was to be lost. The "Jeune-Hardie" was at once put incondition to brave the perils of the polar seas. Fidèle Misonne, the carpenter, carefully examined her, and assured himself thather solid construction might resist the shock of the ice-masses. Penellan, who had already engaged in whale-fishing in the arcticwaters, took care that woollen and fur coverings, many sealskinmoccassins, and wood for the making of sledges with which tocross the ice-fields were put on board. The amount of provisionswas increased, and spirits and charcoal were added; for it mightbe that they would have to winter at some point on the Greenlandcoast. They also procured, with much difficulty and at a highprice, a quantity of lemons, for preventing or curing the scurvy, that terrible disease which decimates crews in the icy regions. The ship's hold was filled with salt meat, biscuits, brandy, &c. , as the steward's room no longer sufficed. They providedthemselves, moreover, with a large quantity of "pemmican, " anIndian preparation which concentrates a great deal of nutritionwithin a small volume. By order of the captain, some saws were put on board for cuttingthe ice-fields, as well as picks and wedges for separating them. The captain determined to procure some dogs for drawing thesledges on the Greenland coast. The whole crew was engaged in these preparations, and displayedgreat activity. The sailors Aupic, Gervique, and Gradlinzealously obeyed Penellan's orders; and he admonished them not toaccustom themselves to woollen garments, though the temperaturein this latitude, situated just beyond the polar circle, was verylow. Penellan, though he said nothing, narrowly watched every actionof André Vasling. This man was Dutch by birth, came from no oneknew whither, but was at least a good sailor, having made twovoyages on board the "Jeune-Hardie". Penellan would not as yetaccuse him of anything, unless it was that he kept near Marie tooconstantly, but he did not let him out of his sight. Thanks to the energy of the crew, the brig was equipped by the16th of July, a fortnight after its arrival at Bodoë. It was thenthe favourable season for attempting explorations in the ArcticSeas. The thaw had been going on for two months, and the searchmight be carried farther north. The "Jeune-Hardie" set sail, anddirected her way towards Cape Brewster, on the eastern coast ofGreenland, near the 70th degree of latitude. CHAPTER IV. IN THE PASSES. About the 23rd of July a reflection, raised above the sea, announced the presence of the first icebergs, which, emergingfrom Davis' Straits, advanced into the ocean. From this moment avigilant watch was ordered to the look-out men, for it wasimportant not to come into collision with these enormous masses. The crew was divided into two watches. The first was composed ofFidèle Misonne, Gradlin, and Gervique; and the second of AndreVasling, Aupic, and Penellan. These watches were to last only twohours, for in those cold regions a man's strength is diminishedone-half. Though the "Jeune-Hardie" was not yet beyond the 63rddegree of latitude, the thermometer already stood at nine degreescentigrade below zero. Rain and snow often fell abundantly. On fair days, when the windwas not too violent, Marie remained on deck, and her eyes becameaccustomed to the uncouth scenes of the Polar Seas. On the 1st of August she was promenading aft, and talking withher uncle, Penellan, and André Vasling. The ship was thenentering a channel three miles wide, across which broken massesof ice were rapidly descending southwards. "When shall we see land?" asked the young girl. "In three or four days at the latest, " replied Jean Cornbutte. "But shall we find there fresh traces of my poor Louis?" "Perhaps so, my daughter; but I fear that we are still far fromthe end of our voyage. It is to be feared that the 'Froöern' wasdriven farther northward. " "That may be, " added André Vasling, "for the squall whichseparated us from the Norwegian boat lasted three days, and inthree days a ship makes good headway when it is no longer able toresist the wind. " "Permit me to tell you, Monsieur Vasling. " replied Penellan, "that that was in April, that the thaw had not then begun, andthat therefore the 'Froöern' must have been soon arrested by theice. " "And no doubt dashed into a thousand pieces, " said the mate, "asher crew could not manage her. " "But these ice-fields, " returned Penellan, "gave her an easymeans of reaching land, from which she could not have been fardistant. " "Let us hope so, " said Jean Cornbutte, interrupting thediscussion, which was daily renewed between the mate and thehelmsman. "I think we shall see land before long. " "There it is!" cried Marie. "See those mountains!" "No, my child, " replied her uncle. "Those are mountains of ice, the first we have met with. They would shatter us like glass ifwe got entangled between them. Penellan and Vasling, overlook themen. " These floating masses, more than fifty of which now appeared atthe horizon, came nearer and nearer to the brig. Penellan tookthe helm, and Jean Cornbutte, mounted on the gallant, indicatedthe route to take. Towards evening the brig was entirely surrounded by these movingrocks, the crushing force of which is irresistible. It wasnecessary, then, to cross this fleet of mountains, for prudenceprompted them to keep straight ahead. Another difficulty wasadded to these perils. The direction of the ship could not beaccurately determined, as all the surrounding points constantlychanged position, and thus failed to afford a fixed perspective. The darkness soon increased with the fog. Marie descended to hercabin, and the whole crew, by the captain's orders, remained ondeck. They were armed with long boat-poles, with iron spikes, topreserve the ship from collision with the ice. The ship soon entered a strait so narrow that often the ends ofher yards were grazed by the drifting mountains, and her boomsseemed about to be driven in. They were even forced to trim themainyard so as to touch the shrouds. Happily these precautionsdid not deprive, the vessel of any of its speed, for the windcould only reach the upper sails, and these sufficed to carry herforward rapidly. Thanks to her slender hull, she passed throughthese valleys, which were filled with whirlpools of rain, whilstthe icebergs crushed against each other with sharp cracking andsplitting. Jean Cornbutte returned to the deck. His eyes could not penetratethe surrounding darkness. It became necessary to furl the uppersails, for the ship threatened to ground, and if she did so shewas lost. "Cursed voyage!" growled André Vasling among the sailors, who, forward, were avoiding the most menacing ice-blocks with theirboat-hooks. "Truly, if we escape we shall owe a fine candle to Our Lady ofthe Ice!" replied Aupic. "Who knows how many floating mountains we have got to passthrough yet?" added the mate. "And who can guess what we shall find beyond them?" replied thesailor. "Don't talk so much, prattler, " said Gervique, "and look out onyour side. When we have got by them, it'll be time to grumble. Look out for your boat-hook!" At this moment an enormous block of ice, in the narrow straitthrough which the brig was passing, came rapidly down upon her, and it seemed impossible to avoid it, for it barred the wholewidth of the channel, and the brig could not heave-to. "Do you feel the tiller?" asked Cornbutte of Penellan. "No, captain. The ship does not answer the helm any longer. " "_Ohé_, boys!" cried the captain to the crew; "don't be afraid, and buttress your hooks against the gunwale. " The block was nearly sixty feet high, and if it threw itself uponthe brig she would be crushed. There was an undefinable moment ofsuspense, and the crew retreated backward, abandoning their postsdespite the captain's orders. But at the instant when the block was not more than half acable's length from the "Jeune-Hardie, " a dull sound was heard, and a veritable waterspout fell upon the bow of the vessel, whichthen rose on the back of an enormous billow. The sailors uttered a cry of terror; but when they looked beforethem the block had disappeared, the passage was free, and beyondan immense plain of water, illumined by the rays of the decliningsun, assured them of an easy navigation. "All's well!" cried Penellan. "Let's trim our topsails andmizzen!" An incident very common in those parts had just occurred. Whenthese masses are detached from one another in the thawing season, they float in a perfect equilibrium; but on reaching the ocean, where the water is relatively warmer, they are speedilyundermined at the base, which melts little by little, and whichis also shaken by the shock of other ice-masses. A moment comeswhen the centre of gravity of these masses is displaced, and thenthey are completely overturned. Only, if this block had turnedover two minutes later, it would have fallen on the brig andcarried her down in its fall. CHAPTER V. LIVERPOOL ISLAND. The brig now sailed in a sea which was almost entirely open. Atthe horizon only, a whitish light, this time motionless, indicated the presence of fixed plains of ice. Jean Cornbutte now directed the "Jeune-Hardie" towards CapeBrewster. They were already approaching the regions where thetemperature is excessively cold, for the sun's rays, owing totheir obliquity when they reach them, are very feeble. On the 3rd of August the brig confronted immoveable and unitedice-masses. The passages were seldom more than a cable's lengthin width, and the ship was forced to make many turnings, whichsometimes placed her heading the wind. Penellan watched over Marie with paternal care, and, despite thecold, prevailed upon her to spend two or three hours every day ondeck, for exercise had become one of the indispensable conditionsof health. Marie's courage did not falter. She even comforted the sailorswith her cheerful talk, and all of them became warmly attached toher. André Vasling showed himself more attentive than ever, andseized every occasion to be in her company; but the young girl, with a sort of presentiment, accepted his services with somecoldness. It may be easily conjectured that André's conversationreferred more to the future than to the present, and that he didnot conceal the slight probability there was of saving thecastaways. He was convinced that they were lost, and the younggirl ought thenceforth to confide her existence to some one else. [Illustration: André Vasling showed himself more attentive thanever. ] Marie had not as yet comprehended André's designs, for, to hisgreat disgust, he could never find an opportunity to talk longwith her alone. Penellan had always an excuse for interfering, and destroying the effect of Andre's words by the hopefulopinions he expressed. Marie, meanwhile, did not remain idle. Acting on the helmsman'sadvice, she set to work on her winter garments; for it wasnecessary that she should completely change her clothing. The cutof her dresses was not suitable for these cold latitudes. Shemade, therefore, a sort of furred pantaloons, the ends of whichwere lined with seal-skin; and her narrow skirts came only to herknees, so as not to be in contact with the layers of snow withwhich the winter would cover the ice-fields. A fur mantle, fitting closely to the figure and supplied with a hood, protectedthe upper part of her body. In the intervals of their work, the sailors, too, preparedclothing with which to shelter themselves from the cold. Theymade a quantity of high seal-skin boots, with which to cross thesnow during their explorations. They worked thus all the timethat the navigation in the straits lasted. André Vasling, who was an excellent shot, several times broughtdown aquatic birds with his gun; innumerable flocks of these werealways careering about the ship. A kind of eider-duck providedthe crew with very palatable food, which relieved the monotony ofthe salt meat. At last the brig, after many turnings, came in sight of CapeBrewster. A long-boat was put to sea. Jean Cornbutte and Penellanreached the coast, which was entirely deserted. The ship at once directed its course towards Liverpool Island, discovered in 1821 by Captain Scoresby, and the crew gave ahearty cheer when they saw the natives running along the shore. Communication was speedily established with them, thanks toPenellan's knowledge of a few words of their language, and somephrases which we natives themselves had learnt of the whalers whofrequented those parts. These Greenlanders were small and squat; they were not more thanfour feet ten inches high; they had red, round faces, and lowforeheads; their hair, flat and black, fell over their shoulders;their teeth were decayed, and they seemed to be affected by thesort of leprosy which is peculiar to ichthyophagous tribes. In exchange for pieces of iron and brass, of which they areextremely covetous, these poor creatures brought bear furs, theskins of sea-calves, sea-dogs, sea-wolves, and all the animalsgenerally known as seals. Jean Cornbutte obtained these at a lowprice, and they were certain to become most useful. The captain then made the natives understand that he was insearch of a shipwrecked vessel, and asked them if they had heardof it. One of them immediately drew something like a ship on thesnow, and indicated that a vessel of that sort had been carriednorthward three months before: he also managed to make itunderstood that the thaw and breaking up of the ice-fields hadprevented the Greenlanders from going in search of it; and, indeed, their very light canoes, which they managed with paddles, could not go to sea at that time. This news, though meagre, restored hope to the hearts of thesailors, and Jean Cornbutte had no difficulty in persuading themto advance farther in the polar seas. Before quitting Liverpool Island, the captain purchased a pack ofsix Esquimaux dogs, which were soon acclimatised on board. Theship weighed anchor on the morning of the 10th of August, andentered the northern straits under a brisk wind. The longest days of the year had now arrived; that is, the sun, in these high latitudes, did not set, and reached the highestpoint of the spirals which it described above the horizon. This total absence of night was not, however, very apparent, forthe fog, rain, and snow sometimes enveloped the ship in realdarkness. Jean Cornbutte, who was resolved to advance as far as possible, began to take measures of health. The space between decks wassecurely enclosed, and every morning care was taken to ventilateit with fresh air. The stoves were installed, and the pipes sodisposed as to yield as much heat as possible. The sailors wereadvised to wear only one woollen shirt over their cotton shirts, and to hermetically close their seal cloaks. The fires were notyet lighted, for it was important to reserve the wood andcharcoal for the most intense cold. Warm beverages, such as coffee and tea, were regularlydistributed to the sailors morning and evening; and as it wasimportant to live on meat, they shot ducks and teal, whichabounded in these parts. Jean Cornbutte also placed at the summit of the mainmast a"crow's nest, " a sort of cask staved in at one end, in which alook-out remained constantly, to observe the icefields. Two days after the brig had lost sight of Liverpool Island thetemperature became suddenly colder under the influence of a drywind. Some indications of winter were perceived. The ship had nota moment to lose, for soon the way would be entirely closed toher. She advanced across the straits, among which lay ice-plainsthirty feet thick. On the morning of the 3rd of September the "Jeune-Hardie" reachedthe head of Gaël-Hamkes Bay. Land was then thirty miles to theleeward. It was the first time that the brig had stopped before amass of ice which offered no outlet, and which was at least amile wide. The saws must now be used to cut the ice. Penellan, Aupic, Gradlin, and Turquiette were chosen to work the saws, which had been carried outside the ship. The direction of thecutting was so determined that the current might carry off thepieces detached from the mass. The whole crew worked at this taskfor nearly twenty hours. They found it very painful to remain onthe ice, and were often obliged to plunge into the water up totheir middle; their seal-skin garments protected them butimperfectly from the damp. Moreover all excessive toil in those high latitudes is soonfollowed by an overwhelming weariness; for the breath soon fails, and the strongest are forced to rest at frequent intervals. At last the navigation became free, and the brig was towed beyondthe mass which had so long obstructed her course. CHAPTER VI. THE QUAKING OF THE ICE. For several days the "Jeune-Hardie" struggled against formidableobstacles. The crew were almost all the time at work with thesaws, and often powder had to be used to blow up the enormousblocks of ice which closed the way. On the 12th of September the sea consisted of one solid plain, without outlet or passage, surrounding the vessel on all sides, so that she could neither advance nor retreat. The temperatureremained at an average of sixteen degrees below zero. The winterseason had come on, with its sufferings and dangers. [Illustration: On the 12th of September the sea consisted of onesolid plain. ] The "Jeune-Hardie" was then near the 21st degree of longitudewest and the 76th degree of latitude north, at the entrance ofGaël-Hamkes Bay. Jean Cornbutte made his preliminary preparations for wintering. He first searched for a creek whose position would shelter theship from the wind and breaking up of the ice. Land, which wasprobably thirty miles west, could alone offer him secure shelter, and he resolved to attempt to reach it. He set out on the 12th of September, accompanied by AndréVasling, Penellan, and the two sailors Gradlin and Turquiette. Each man carried provisions for two days, for it was not likelythat their expedition would occupy a longer time, and they weresupplied with skins on which to sleep. Snow had fallen in great abundance and was not yet frozen over;and this delayed them seriously. They often sank to their waists, and could only advance very cautiously, for fear of falling intocrevices. Penellan, who walked in front, carefully sounded eachdepression with his iron-pointed staff. About five in the evening the fog began to thicken, and thelittle band were forced to stop. Penellan looked about for aniceberg which might shelter them from the wind, and afterrefreshing themselves, with regrets that they had no warm drink, they spread their skins on the snow, wrapped themselves up, layclose to each other, and soon dropped asleep from sheer fatigue. The next morning Jean Cornbutte and his companions were buriedbeneath a bed of snow more than a foot deep. Happily their skins, perfectly impermeable, had preserved them, and the snow itselfhad aided in retaining their heat, which it prevented fromescaping. The captain gave the signal of departure, and about noon they atlast descried the coast, which at first they could scarcelydistinguish. High ledges of ice, cut perpendicularly, rose on theshore; their variegated summits, of all forms and shapes, reproduced on a large scale the phenomena of crystallization. Myriads of aquatic fowl flew about at the approach of the party, and the seals, lazily lying on the ice, plunged hurriedly intothe depths. "I' faith!" said Penellan, "we shall not want for either furs orgame!" "Those animals, " returned Cornbutte, "give every evidence ofhaving been already visited by men; for in places totallyuninhabited they would not be so wild. " "None but Greenlanders frequent these parts, " said André Vasling. "I see no trace of their passage, however; neither any encampmentnor the smallest hut, " said Penellan, who had climbed up a highpeak. "O captain!" he continued, "come here! I see a point ofland which will shelter us splendidly from the north-east wind. " "Come along, boys!" said Jean Cornbutte. His companions followed him, and they soon rejoined Penellan. Thesailor had said what was true. An elevated point of land juttedout like a promontory, and curving towards the coast, formed alittle inlet of a mile in width at most. Some moving ice-blocks, broken by this point, floated in the midst, and the sea, sheltered from the colder winds, was not yet entirely frozenover. This was an excellent spot for wintering, and it only remained toget the ship thither. Jean Cornbutte remarked that the neighbouringice-field was very thick, and it seemed very difficult to cut a canalto bring the brig to its destination. Some other creek, then, must befound; it was in vain that he explored northward. The coast remainedsteep and abrupt for a long distance, and beyond the point it wasdirectly exposed to the attacks of the east-wind. The circumstancedisconcerted the captain all the more because André Vasling usedstrong arguments to show how bad the situation was. Penellan, inthis dilemma, found it difficult to convince himself that all wasfor the best. But one chance remained--to seek a shelter on the southern sideof the coast. This was to return on their path, but hesitationwas useless. The little band returned rapidly in the direction ofthe ship, as their provisions had begun to run short. JeanCornbutte searched for some practicable passage, or at least somefissure by which a canal might be cut across the ice-fields, allalong the route, but in vain. Towards evening the sailors came to the same place where they hadencamped over night. There had been no snow during the day, andthey could recognize the imprint of their bodies on the ice. Theyagain disposed themselves to sleep with their furs. Penellan, much disturbed by the bad success of the expedition, was sleeping restlessly, when, at a waking moment, his attentionwas attracted by a dull rumbling. He listened attentively, andthe rumbling seemed so strange that he nudged Jean Cornbutte withhis elbow. "What is that?" said the latter, whose mind, according to asailor's habit, was awake as soon as his body. "Listen, captain. " The noise increased, with perceptible violence. "It cannot be thunder, in so high a latitude, " said Cornbutte, rising. "I think we have come across some white bears, " replied Penellan. "The devil! We have not seen any yet. " "Sooner or later, we must have expected a visit from them. Let usgive them a good reception. " Penellan, armed with a gun, lightly crossed the ledge whichsheltered them. The darkness was very dense; he could discovernothing; but a new incident soon showed him that the cause of thenoise did not proceed from around them. Jean Cornbutte rejoined him, and they observed with terror thatthis rumbling, which awakened their companions, came from beneaththem. A new kind of peril menaced them. To the noise, which resembledpeals of thunder, was added a distinct undulating motion of theice-field. Several of the party lost their balance and fell. "Attention!" cried Penellan. "Yes!" some one responded. "Turquiette! Gradlin! where are you?" "Here I am!" responded Turquiette, shaking off the snow withwhich he was covered. "This way, Vasling, " cried Cornbutte to the mate. "And Gradlin?" "Present, captain. But we are lost!" shouted Gradlin, in fright. "No!" said Penellan. "Perhaps we are saved!" Hardly had he uttered these words when a frightful cracking noisewas heard. The ice-field broke clear through, and the sailorswere forced to cling to the block which was quivering just bythem. Despite the helmsman's words, they found themselves in amost perilous position, for an ice-quake had occurred. The icemasses had just "weighed anchor, " as the sailors say. Themovement lasted nearly two minutes, and it was to be feared thatthe crevice would yawn at the very feet of the unhappy sailors. They anxiously awaited daylight in the midst of continuousshocks, for they could not, without risk of death, move a step, and had to remain stretched out at full length to avoid beingengulfed. [Illustration: they found themselves in a most perilous position, for an ice-quake had occurred. ] As soon as it was daylight a very different aspect presenteditself to their eyes. The vast plain, a compact mass the eveningbefore, was now separated in a thousand places, and the waves, raised by some submarine commotion, had broken the thick layerwhich sheltered them. The thought of his ship occurred to Jean Cornbutte's mind. "My poor brig!" he cried. "It must have perished!" The deepest despair began to overcast the faces of hiscompanions. The loss of the ship inevitably preceded their owndeaths. "Courage, friends, " said Penellan. "Reflect that this night'sdisaster has opened us a path across the ice, which will enableus to bring our ship to the bay for wintering! And, stop! I amnot mistaken. There is the 'Jeune-Hardie, ' a mile nearer to us!" All hurried forward, and so imprudently, that Turquiette slippedinto a fissure, and would have certainly perished, had not JeanCornbutte seized him by his hood. He got off with a rather coldbath. The brig was indeed floating two miles away. After infinitetrouble, the little band reached her. She was in good condition;but her rudder, which they had neglected to lift, had been brokenby the ice. CHAPTER VII. SETTLING FOR THE WINTER. Penellan was once more right; all was for the best, and this ice-quakehad opened a practicable channel for the ship to the bay. The sailors had only to make skilful use of the currents toconduct her thither. On the 19th of September the brig was at last moored in her bayfor wintering, two cables' lengths from the shore, securelyanchored on a good bottom. The ice began the next day to formaround her hull; it soon became strong enough to bear a man'sweight, and they could establish a communication with land. The rigging, as is customary in arctic navigation, remained as itwas; the sails were carefully furled on the yards and coveredwith their casings, and the "crow's-nest" remained in place, asmuch to enable them to make distant observations as to attractattention to the ship. The sun now scarcely rose above the horizon. Since the Junesolstice, the spirals which it had described descended lower andlower; and it would soon disappear altogether. The crew hastened to make the necessary preparations. Penellansupervised the whole. The ice was soon thick around the ship, andit was to be feared that its pressure might become dangerous; butPenellan waited until, by reason of the going and coming of thefloating ice-masses and their adherence, it had reached athickness of twenty feet; he then had it cut around the hull, sothat it united under the ship, the form of which it assumed;thus enclosed in a mould, the brig had no longer to fear thepressure of the ice, which could make no movement. The sailors then elevated along the wales, to the height of thenettings, a snow wall five or six feet thick, which soon froze ashard as a rock. This envelope did not allow the interior heat toescape outside. A canvas tent, covered with skins and hermeticallyclosed, was stretched aver the whole length of the deck, and formeda sort of walk for the sailors. They also constructed on the ice a storehouse of snow, in whicharticles which embarrassed the ship were stowed away. Thepartitions of the cabins were taken down, so as to form a singlevast apartment forward, as well as aft. This single room, besides, was more easy to warm, as the ice and damp found fewercorners in which to take refuge. It was also less difficult toventilate it, by means of canvas funnels which opened without. Each sailor exerted great energy in these preparations, and aboutthe 25th of September they were completed. André Vasling had notshown himself the least active in this task. He devoted himselfwith especial zeal to the young girl's comfort, and if she, absorbed in thoughts of her poor Louis, did not perceive this, Jean Cornbutte did not fail soon to remark it. He spoke of it toPenellan; he recalled several incidents which completelyenlightened him regarding his mate's intentions; André Vaslingloved Marie, and reckoned on asking her uncle for her hand, assoon as it was proved beyond doubt that the castaways wereirrevocably lost; they would return then to Dunkirk, and AndréVasling would be well satisfied to wed a rich and pretty girl, who would then be the sole heiress of Jean Cornbutte. But André, in his impatience, was often imprudent. He had severaltimes declared that the search for the castaways was useless, when some new trace contradicted him, and enabled Penellan toexult over him. The mate, therefore, cordially detested thehelmsman, who returned his dislike heartily. Penellan only fearedthat André might sow seeds of dissension among the crew, andpersuaded Jean Cornbutte to answer him evasively on the firstoccasion. When the preparations for the winter were completed, the captaintook measures to preserve the health of the crew. Every morningthe men were ordered to air their berths, and carefully clean theinterior walls, to get rid of the night's dampness. They receivedboiling tea or coffee, which are excellent cordials to useagainst the cold, morning and evening; then they were dividedinto hunting-parties, who should procure as much fresh nourishmentas possible for every day. Each one also took healthy exercise every day, so as not toexpose himself without motion to the cold; for in a temperaturethirty degrees below zero, some part of the body might suddenlybecome frozen. In such cases friction of the snow was used, whichalone could heal the affected part. Penellan also strongly advised cold ablutions every morning. Itrequired some courage to plunge the hands and face in the snow, which had to be melted within. But Penellan bravely set theexample, and Marie was not the last to imitate him. Jean Cornbutte did not forget to have readings and prayers, forit was needful that the hearts of his comrades should not giveway to despair or weariness. Nothing is more dangerous in thesedesolate latitudes. The sky, always gloomy, filled the soul with sadness. A thicksnow, lashed by violent winds, added to the horrors of theirsituation. The sun would soon altogether disappear. Had theclouds not gathered in masses above their heads, they might haveenjoyed the moonlight, which was about to become really their sunduring the long polar night; but, with the west winds, the snowdid not cease to fall. Every morning it was necessary to clearoff the sides of the ship, and to cut a new stairway in the iceto enable them to reach the ice-field. They easily succeeded indoing this with snow-knives; the steps once cut, a little waterwas thrown over them, and they at once hardened. Penellan had a hole cut in the ice, not far from the ship. Everyday the new crust which formed over its top was broken, and thewater which was drawn thence, from a certain depth, was less coldthan that at the surface. All these preparations occupied about three weeks. It was thentime to go forward with the search. The ship was imprisoned forsix or seven months, and only the next thaw could open a newroute across the ice. It was wise, then, to profit by this delay, and extend their explorations northward. CHAPTER VIII. PLAN OF THE EXPLORATIONS. On the 9th of October, Jean Cornbutte held a council to settlethe plan of his operations, to which, that there might be union, zeal, and courage on the part of every one, he admitted the wholecrew. Map in hand, he clearly explained their situation. [Illustration: Map in hand, he clearly explained theirsituation. ] The eastern coast of Greenland advances perpendicularlynorthward. The discoveries of the navigators have given the exactboundaries of those parts. In the extent of five hundred leagues, which separates Greenland from Spitzbergen, no land has beenfound. An island (Shannon Island) lay a hundred miles north ofGaël-Hamkes Bay, where the "Jeune-Hardie" was wintering. If the Norwegian schooner, as was most probable, had been drivenin this direction, supposing that she could not reach ShannonIsland, it was here that Louis Cornbutte and his comrades musthave sought for a winter asylum. This opinion prevailed, despite André Vasling's opposition; andit was decided to direct the explorations on the side towardsShannon Island. Arrangements for this were at once begun. A sledge like that usedby the Esquimaux had been procured on the Norwegian coast. Thiswas constructed of planks curved before and behind, and was madeto slide over the snow and ice. It was twelve feet long and fourwide, and could therefore carry provisions, if need were, forseveral weeks. Fidèle Misonne soon put it in order, working uponit in the snow storehouse, whither his tools had been carried. For the first time a coal-stove was set up in this storehouse, without which all labour there would have been impossible. Thepipe was carried out through one of the lateral walls, by a holepierced in the snow; but a grave inconvenience resulted fromthis, --for the heat of the stove, little by little, melted thesnow where it came in contact with it; and the opening visiblyincreased. Jean Cornbutte contrived to surround this part of thepipe with some metallic canvas, which is impermeable by heat. This succeeded completely. While Misonne was at work upon the sledge, Penellan, aided byMarie, was preparing the clothing necessary for the expedition. Seal-skin boots they had, fortunately, in plenty. Jean Cornbutteand André Vasling occupied themselves with the provisions. Theychose a small barrel of spirits-of-wine for heating a portablechafing-dish; reserves of coffee and tea in ample quantity werepacked; a small box of biscuits, two hundred pounds of pemmican, and some gourds of brandy completed the stock of viands. The gunswould bring down some fresh game every day. A quantity of powderwas divided between several bags; the compass, sextant, and spy-glasswere put carefully out of the way of injury. On the 11th of October the sun no longer appeared above thehorizon. They were obliged to keep a lighted lamp in the lodgingsof the crew all the time. There was no time to lose; theexplorations must be begun. For this reason: in the month ofJanuary it would become so cold that it would be impossible toventure out without peril of life. For two months at least thecrew would be condemned to the most complete imprisonment; thenthe thaw would begin, and continue till the time when the shipshould quit the ice. This thaw would, of course, prevent anyexplorations. On the other hand, if Louis Cornbutte and hiscomrades were still in existence, it was not probable that theywould be able to resist the severities of the arctic winter. Theymust therefore be saved beforehand, or all hope would be lost. André Vasling knew all this better than any one. He thereforeresolved to put every possible obstacle in the way of theexpedition. The preparations for the journey were completed about the 20th ofOctober. It remained to select the men who should compose theparty. The young girl could not be deprived of the protection ofJean Cornbutte or of Penellan; neither of these could, on theother hand, be spared from the expedition. The question, then, was whether Marie could bear the fatigues ofsuch a journey. She had already passed through rough experienceswithout seeming to suffer from them, for she was a sailor'sdaughter, used from infancy to the fatigues of the sea, and evenPenellan was not dismayed to see her struggling in the midst ofthis severe climate, against the dangers of the polar seas. It was decided, therefore, after a long discussion, that sheshould go with them, and that a place should be reserved for her, at need, on the sledge, on which a little wooden hut wasconstructed, closed in hermetically. As for Marie, she wasdelighted, for she dreaded to be left alone without her twoprotectors. The expedition was thus formed: Marie, Jean Cornbutte, Penellan, André Vasling, Aupic, and Fidèle Misonne were to go. AlaineTurquiette remained in charge of the brig, and Gervique andGradlin stayed behind with him. New provisions of all kinds werecarried; for Jean Cornbutte, in order to carry the exploration asfar as possible, had resolved to establish depôts along theroute, at each seven or eight days' march. When the sledge wasready it was at once fitted up, and covered with a skin tent. Thewhole weighed some seven hundred pounds, which a pack of fivedogs might easily carry over the ice. On the 22nd of October, as the captain had foretold, a suddenchange took place in the temperature. The sky cleared, the starsemitted an extraordinary light, and the moon shone above thehorizon, no longer to leave the heavens for a fortnight. Thethermometer descended to twenty-five degrees below zero. The departure was fixed for the following day. CHAPTER IX. THE HOUSE OF SNOW. On the 23rd of October, at eleven in the morning, in a finemoonlight, the caravan set out. Precautions were this time takenthat the journey might be a long one, if necessary. JeanCornbutte followed the coast, and ascended northward. The stepsof the travellers made no impression on the hard ice. Jean wasforced to guide himself by points which he selected at adistance; sometimes he fixed upon a hill bristling with peaks;sometimes on a vast iceberg which pressure had raised above theplain. [Illustration: The caravan set out] At the first halt, after going fifteen miles, Penellan preparedto encamp. The tent was erected against an ice-block. Marie hadnot suffered seriously with the extreme cold, for luckily thebreeze had subsided, and was much more bearable; but the younggirl had several times been obliged to descend from her sledge toavert numbness from impeding the circulation of her blood. Otherwise, her little hut, hung with skins, afforded her all thecomfort possible under the circumstances. When night, or rather sleeping-time, came, the little hut wascarried under the tent, where it served as a bed-room for Marie. The evening repast was composed of fresh meat, pemmican, and hottea. Jean Cornbutte, to avert danger of the scurvy, distributedto each of the party a few drops of lemon-juice. Then all sleptunder God's protection. After eight hours of repose, they got ready to resume theirmarch. A substantial breakfast was provided to the men and thedogs; then they set out. The ice, exceedingly compact, enabledthese animals to draw the sledge easily. The party sometimesfound it difficult to keep up with them. But the sailors soon began to suffer one discomfort--that ofbeing dazzled. Ophthalmia betrayed itself in Aupic and Misonne. The moon's light, striking on these vast white plains, burnt theeyesight, and gave the eyes insupportable pain. There was thus produced a very singular effect of refraction. Asthey walked, when they thought they were about to put foot on ahillock, they stepped down lower, which often occasioned falls, happily so little serious that Penellan made them occasions forbantering. Still, he told them never to take a step withoutsounding the ground with the ferruled staff with which each wasequipped. About the 1st of November, ten days after they had set out, thecaravan had gone fifty leagues to the northward. Wearinesspressed heavily on all. Jean Cornbutte was painfully dazzled, andhis sight sensibly changed. Aupic and Misonne had to feel theirway: for their eyes, rimmed with red, seemed burnt by the whitereflection. Marie had been preserved from this misfortune byremaining within her hut, to which she confined herself as muchas possible. Penellan, sustained by an indomitable courage, resisted all fatigue. But it was André Vasling who bore himselfbest, and upon whom the cold and dazzling seemed to produce noeffect. His iron frame was equal to every hardship; and he wassecretly pleased to see the most robust of his companionsbecoming discouraged, and already foresaw the moment when theywould be forced to retreat to the ship again. On the 1st of November it became absolutely necessary to halt fora day or two. As soon as the place for the encampment had beenselected, they proceeded to arrange it. It was determined toerect a house of snow, which should be supported against one ofthe rocks of the promontory. Misonne at once marked out thefoundations, which measured fifteen feet long by five wide. Penellan, Aupic, and Misonne, by aid of their knives, cut outgreat blocks of ice, which they carried to the chosen spot andset up, as masons would have built stone walls. The sides of thefoundation were soon raised to a height and thickness of aboutfive feet; for the materials were abundant, and the structure wasintended to be sufficiently solid to last several days. The fourwalls were completed in eight hours; an opening had been left onthe southern side, and the canvas of the tent, placed on thesefour walls, fell over the opening and sheltered it. It onlyremained to cover the whole with large blocks, to form the roofof this temporary structure. After three more hours of hard work, the house was done; and theyall went into it, overcome with weariness and discouragement. Jean Cornbutte suffered so much that he could not walk, and AndréVasling so skilfully aggravated his gloomy feelings, that heforced from him a promise not to pursue his search farther inthose frightful solitudes. Penellan did not know which saint toinvoke. He thought it unworthy and craven to give up hiscompanions for reasons which had little weight, and tried toupset them; but in vain. Meanwhile, though it had been decided to return, rest had becomeso necessary that for three days no preparations for departurewere made. On the 4th of November, Jean Cornbutte began to bury on a pointof the coast the provisions for which there was no use. A stakeindicated the place of the deposit, in the improbable event thatnew explorations should be made in that direction. Every daysince they had set out similar deposits had been made, so thatthey were assured of ample sustenance on the return, without thetrouble of carrying them on the sledge. The departure was fixed for ten in the morning, on the 5th. Themost profound sadness filled the little band. Marie withdifficulty restrained her tears, when she saw her uncle socompletely discouraged. So many useless sufferings! so muchlabour lost! Penellan himself became ferocious in his ill-humour;he consigned everybody to the nether regions, and did not ceaseto wax angry at the weakness and cowardice of his comrades, whowere more timid and tired, he said, than Marie, who would havegone to the end of the world without complaint. André Vasling could not disguise the pleasure which this decisiongave him. He showed himself more attentive than ever to the younggirl, to whom he even held out hopes that a new search should bemade when the winter was over; knowing well that it would then betoo late! CHAPTER X. BURIED ALIVE. The evening before the departure, just as they were about to takesupper, Penellan was breaking up some empty casks for firewood, when he was suddenly suffocated by a thick smoke. At the sameinstant the snow-house was shaken as if by an earthquake. Theparty uttered a cry of terror, and Penellan hurried outside. It was entirely dark. A frightful tempest--for it was not athaw--was raging, whirlwinds of snow careered around, and it wasso exceedingly cold that the helmsman felt his hands rapidlyfreezing. He was obliged to go in again, after rubbing himselfviolently with snow. "It is a tempest, " said he. "May heaven grant that our house maywithstand it, for, if the storm should destroy it, we should belost!" At the same time with the gusts of wind a noise was heard beneaththe frozen soil; icebergs, broken from the promontory, dashedaway noisily, and fell upon one another; the wind blew with suchviolence that it seemed sometimes as if the whole house movedfrom its foundation; phosphorescent lights, inexplicable in thatlatitude, flashed across the whirlwinds of the snow. "Marie! Marie!" cried Penellan, seizing the young girl's hands. "We are in a bad case!" said Misonne. "And I know not whether we shall escape, " replied Aupic. "Let us quit this snow-house!" said André Vasling. "Impossible!" returned Penellan. "The cold outside is terrible;perhaps we can bear it by staying here. " "Give me the thermometer, " demanded Vasling. Aupic handed it to him. It showed ten degrees below zero insidethe house, though the fire was lighted. Vasling raised the canvaswhich covered the opening, and pushed it aside hastily; for hewould have been lacerated by the fall of ice which the windhurled around, and which fell in a perfect hail-storm. "Well, Vasling, " said Penellan, "will you go out, then? You seethat we are more safe here. " "Yes, " said Jean Cornbutte; "and we must use every effort tostrengthen the house in the interior. " "But a still more terrible danger menaces us, " said Vasling. "What?" asked Jean. "The wind is breaking the ice against which we are propped, justas it has that of the promontory, and we shall be either drivenout or buried!" "That seems doubtful, " said Penellan, "for it is freezing hardenough to ice over all liquid surfaces. Let us see what thetemperature is. " He raised the canvas so as to pass out his arm, and withdifficulty found the thermometer again, in the midst of the snow;but he at last succeeded in seizing it, and, holding the lamp toit, said, -- "Thirty-two degrees below zero! It is the coldest we have seenhere yet!" [Illustration: "Thirty-two degrees below zero!"] "Ten degrees more, " said Vasling, "and the mercury will freeze!" A mournful silence followed this remark. About eight in the morning Penellan essayed a second time to goout to judge of their situation. It was necessary to give anescape to the smoke, which the wind had several times repelledinto the hut. The sailor wrapped his cloak tightly about him, made sure of his hood by fastening it to his head with ahandkerchief, and raised the canvas. The opening was entirely obstructed by a resisting snow. Penellantook his staff, and succeeded in plunging it into the compactmass; but terror froze his blood when he perceived that the endof the staff was not free, and was checked by a hard body! "Cornbutte, " said he to the captain, who had come up to him, "weare buried under this snow!" "What say you?" cried Jean Cornbutte. "I say that the snow is massed and frozen around us and over us, and that we are buried alive!" "Let us try to clear this mass of snow away, " replied thecaptain. The two friends buttressed themselves against the obstacle whichobstructed the opening, but they could not move it. The snowformed an iceberg more than five feet thick, and had becomeliterally a part of the house. Jean could not suppress a cry, which awoke Misonne and Vasling. An oath burst from the latter, whose features contracted. At this moment the smoke, thicker thanever, poured into the house, for it could not find an issue. "Malediction!" cried Misonne. "The pipe of the stove is sealed upby the ice!" Penellan resumed his staff, and took down the pipe, afterthrowing snow on the embers to extinguish them, which producedsuch a smoke that the light of the lamp could scarcely be seen;then he tried with his staff to clear out the orifice, but heonly encountered a rock of ice! A frightful end, preceded by aterrible agony, seemed to be their doom! The smoke, penetratingthe throats of the unfortunate party, caused an insufferablepain, and air would soon fail them altogether! Marie here rose, and her presence, which inspired Cornbutte withdespair, imparted some courage to Penellan. He said to himselfthat it could not be that the poor girl was destined to sohorrible a death. "Ah!" said she, "you have made too much fire. The room is full ofsmoke!" "Yes, yes, " stammered Penellan. "It is evident, " resumed Marie, "for it is not cold, and it islong since we have felt too much heat. " No one dared to tell her the truth. "See, Marie, " said Penellan bluntly, "help us get breakfastready. It is too cold to go out. Here is the chafing-dish, thespirit, and the coffee. Come, you others, a little pemmicanfirst, as this wretched storm forbids us from hunting. " These words stirred up his comrades. "Let us first eat, " added Penellan, "and then we shall see aboutgetting off. " Penellan set the example and devoured his share of the breakfast. His comrades imitated him, and then drank a cup of boilingcoffee, which somewhat restored their spirits. Then JeanCornbutte decided energetically that they should at once setabout devising means of safety. André Vasling now said, -- "If the storm is still raging, which is probable, we must beburied ten feet under the ice, for we can hear no noise outside. " Penellan looked at Marie, who now understood the truth, and didnot tremble. The helmsman first heated, by the flame of thespirit, the iron point of his staff, and successfully introducedit into the four walls of ice, but he could find no issue ineither. Cornbutte then resolved to cut out an opening in the dooritself. The ice was so hard that it was difficult for the knivesto make the least impression on it. The pieces which were cut offsoon encumbered the hut. After working hard for two hours, theyhad only hollowed out a space three feet deep. Some more rapid method, and one which was less likely to demolishthe house, must be thought of; for the farther they advanced themore violent became the effort to break off the compact ice. Itoccurred to Penellan to make use of the chafing-dish to melt theice in the direction they wanted. It was a hazardous method, for, if their imprisonment lasted long, the spirit, of which they hadbut little, would be wanting when needed to prepare the meals. Nevertheless, the idea was welcomed on all hands, and was put inexecution. They first cut a hole three feet deep by one indiameter, to receive the water which would result from themelting of the ice; and it was well that they took thisprecaution, for the water soon dripped under the action of theflames, which Penellan moved about under the mass of ice. Theopening widened little by little, but this kind of work could notbe continued long, for the water, covering their clothes, penetrated to their bodies here and there. Penellan was obligedto pause in a quarter of an hour, and to withdraw the chafing-dishin order to dry himself. Misonne then took his place, and workedsturdily at the task. In two hours, though the opening was five feet deep, the pointsof the staffs could not yet find an issue without. "It is not possible, " said Jean Cornbutte, "that snow could havefallen in such abundance. It must have been gathered on thispoint by the wind. Perhaps we had better think of escaping insome other direction. " "I don't know, " replied Penellan; "but if it were only for thesake of not discouraging our comrades, we ought to continue topierce the wall where we have begun. We must find an issue erelong. " "Will not the spirit fail us?" asked the captain. "I hope not. But let us, if necessary, dispense with coffee andhot drinks. Besides, that is not what most alarms me. " "What is it, then, Penellan?" "Our lamp is going out, for want of oil, and we are fastexhausting our provisions. --At last, thank God!" Penellan went to replace André Vasling, who was vigorouslyworking for the common deliverance. "Monsieur Vasling, " said he, "I am going to take your place; butlook out well, I beg of you, for every tendency of the house tofall, so that we may have time to prevent it. " The time for rest had come, and when Penellan had added one morefoot to the opening, he lay down beside his comrades. CHAPTER XI. A CLOUD OF SMOKE. The next day, when the sailors awoke, they were surrounded bycomplete darkness. The lamp had gone out. Jean Cornbutte rousedPenellan to ask him for the tinder-box, which was passed to him. Penellan rose to light the fire, but in getting up, his headstruck against the ice ceiling. He was horrified, for on theevening before he could still stand upright. The chafing-dishbeing lighted up by the dim rays of the spirit, he perceived thatthe ceiling was a foot lower than before. Penellan resumed work with desperation. At this moment the young girl observed, by the light which thechafing-dish cast upon Penellan's face, that despair anddetermination were struggling in his rough features for themastery. She went to him, took his hands, and tenderly pressedthem. [Illustration: despair and determination were struggling in hisrough features for the mastery. ] "She cannot, must not die thus!" he cried. He took his chafing-dish, and once more attacked the narrowopening. He plunged in his staff, and felt no resistance. Had hereached the soft layers of the snow? He drew out his staff, and abright ray penetrated to the house of ice! "Here, my friends!" he shouted. He pushed back the snow with his hands and feet, but the exteriorsurface was not thawed, as he had thought. With the ray of light, a violent cold entered the cabin and seized upon everythingmoist, to freeze it in an instant. Penellan enlarged the openingwith his cutlass, and at last was able to breathe the free air. He fell on his knees to thank God, and was soon joined by Marieand his comrades. A magnificent moon lit up the sky, but the cold was so extremethat they could not bear it. They re-entered their retreat; butPenellan first looked about him. The promontory was no longerthere, and the hut was now in the midst of a vast plain of ice. Penellan thought he would go to the sledge, where the provisionswere. The sledge had disappeared! The cold forced him to return. He said nothing to his companions. It was necessary, before all, to dry their clothing, which wasdone with the chafing-dish. The thermometer, held for an instantin the air, descended to thirty degrees below zero. An hour after, Vasling and Penellan resolved to venture outside. They wrapped themselves up in their still wet garments, and wentout by the opening, the sides of which had become as hard as arock. "We have been driven towards the north-east, " said Vasling, reckoning by the stars, which shone with wonderful brilliancy. "That would not be bad, " said Penellan, "if our sledge had comewith us. " "Is not the sledge there?" cried Vasling. "Then we are lost!" "Let us look for it, " replied Penellan. They went around the hut, which formed a block more than fifteenfeet high. An immense quantity of snow had fallen during thewhole of the storm, and the wind had massed it against the onlyelevation which the plain presented. The entire block had beendriven by the wind, in the midst of the broken icebergs, morethan twenty-five miles to the north-east, and the prisoners hadsuffered the same fate as their floating prison. The sledge, supported by another iceberg, had been turned another way, for notrace of it was to be seen, and the dogs must have perished amidthe frightful tempest. André Vasling and Penellan felt despair taking possession ofthem. They did not dare to return to their companions. They didnot dare to announce this fatal news to their comrades inmisfortune. They climbed upon the block of ice in which the hutwas hollowed, and could perceive nothing but the white immensitywhich encompassed them on all sides. Already the cold wasbeginning to stiffen their limbs, and the damp of their garmentswas being transformed into icicles which hung about them. Just as Penellan was about to descend, he looked towards André. He saw him suddenly gaze in one direction, then shudder and turnpale. "What is the matter, Vasling?" he asked. "Nothing, " replied the other. "Let us go down and urge thecaptain to leave these parts, where we ought never to have come, at once!" Instead of obeying, Penellan ascended again, and looked in thedirection which had drawn the mate's attention. A very differenteffect was produced on him, for he uttered a shout of joy, andcried, -- "Blessed be God!" A light smoke was rising in the north-east. There was nopossibility of deception. It indicated the presence of humanbeings. Penellan's cries of joy reached the rest below, and allwere able to convince themselves with their eyes that he was notmistaken. Without thinking of their want of provisions or the severity ofthe temperature, wrapped in their hoods, they were all soonadvancing towards the spot whence the smoke arose in the north-east. This was evidently five or six miles off, and it was verydifficult to take exactly the right direction. The smoke nowdisappeared, and no elevation served as a guiding mark, for theice-plain was one united level. It was important, nevertheless, not to diverge from a straight line. "Since we cannot guide ourselves by distant objects, " said JeanCornbutte, "we must use this method. Penellan will go ahead, Vasling twenty steps behind him, and I twenty steps behindVasling. I can then judge whether or not Penellan diverges fromthe straight line. " They had gone on thus for half an hour, when Penellan suddenlystopped and listened. The party hurried up to him. "Did you hear nothing?" he asked. "Nothing!" replied Misonne. "It is strange, " said Penellan. "It seemed to me I heard criesfrom this direction. " "Cries?" replied Marie. "Perhaps we are near our destination, then. " "That is no reason, " said André Vasling. "In these high latitudesand cold regions sounds may be heard to a great distance. " "However that may be, " replied Jean Cornbutte, "let us goforward, or we shall be frozen. " "No!" cried Penellan. "Listen!" Some feeble sounds--quite perceptible, however--were heard. Theyseemed to be cries of distress. They were twice repeated. Theyseemed like cries for help. Then all became silent again. "I was not mistaken, " said Penellan. "Forward!" He began to run in the direction whence the cries had proceeded. He went thus two miles, when, to his utter stupefaction, he saw aman lying on the ice. He went up to him, raised him, and liftedhis arms to heaven in despair. André Vasling, who was following close behind with the rest ofthe sailors, ran up and cried, -- "It is one of the castaways! It is our sailor Courtois!" "He is dead!" replied Penellan. "Frozen to death!" Jean Cornbutte and Marie came up beside the corpse, which wasalready stiffened by the ice. Despair was written on every face. The dead man was one of the comrades of Louis Cornbutte! "Forward!" cried Penellan. They went on for half an hour in perfect silence, and perceivedan elevation which seemed without doubt to be land. "It is Shannon Island, " said Jean Cornbutte. A mile farther on they distinctly perceived smoke escaping from asnow-hut, closed by a wooden door. They shouted. Two men rushedout of the hut, and Penellan recognized one of them as PierreNouquet. "Pierre!" he cried. Pierre stood still as if stunned, and unconscious of what wasgoing on around him. André Vasling looked at Pierre Nouquet'scompanion with anxiety mingled with a cruel joy, for he did notrecognize Louis Cornbutte in him. "Pierre! it is I!" cried Penellan. "These are all your friends!" Pierre Nouquet recovered his senses, and fell into his oldcomrade's arms. "And my son--and Louis!" cried Jean Cornbutte, in an accent of themost profound despair. CHAPTER XII. THE RETURN TO THE SHIP. At this moment a man, almost dead, dragged himself out of the hutand along the ice. It was Louis Cornbutte. [Illustration: It was Louis Cornbutte. ] "My son!" "My beloved!" These two cries were uttered at the same time, and LouisCornbutte fell fainting into the arms of his father and Marie, who drew him towards the hut, where their tender care soonrevived him. "My father! Marie!" cried Louis; "I shall not die without havingseen you!" "You will not die!" replied Penellan, "for all your friends arenear you. " André Vasling must have hated Louis Cornbutte bitterly not toextend his hand to him, but he did not. Pierre Nouquet was wild with joy. He embraced every body; then hethrew some wood into the stove, and soon a comfortable temperaturewas felt in the cabin. There were two men there whom neither Jean Cornbutte nor Penellanrecognized. They were Jocki and Herming, the only two sailors of the crew ofthe Norwegian schooner who were left. "My friends, we are saved!" said Louis. "My father! Marie! Youhave exposed yourselves to so many perils!" "We do not regret it, my Louis, " replied the father. "Your brig, the 'Jeune-Hardie, ' is securely anchored in the ice sixty leaguesfrom here. We will rejoin her all together. " "When Courtois comes back he'll be mightily pleased, " said PierreNouquet. A mournful silence followed this, and Penellan apprised Pierreand Louis of their comrade's death by cold. "My friends, " said Penellan, "we will wait here until the colddecreases. Have you provisions and wood?" "Yes; and we will burn what is left of the 'Froöern. '" The "Froöern" had indeed been driven to a place forty miles fromwhere Louis Cornbutte had taken up his winter quarters. There shewas broken up by the icebergs floated by the thaw, and thecastaways were carried, with a part of the _débris_ of theircabin, on the southern shores of Shannon Island. They were then five in number--Louis Cornbutte, Courtois, PierreNouquet, Jocki, and Herming. As for the rest of the Norwegiancrew, they had been submerged with the long-boat at the moment ofthe wreck. When Louis Cornbutte, shut in among the ice, realized what musthappen, he took every precaution for passing the winter. He wasan energetic man, very active and courageous; but, despite hisfirmness, he had been subdued by this horrible climate, and whenhis father found him he had given up all hope of life. He had notonly had to contend with the elements, but with the ugly temperof the two Norwegian sailors, who owed him their existence. Theywere like savages, almost inaccessible to the most naturalemotions. When Louis had the opportunity to talk to Penellan, headvised him to watch them carefully. In return, Penellan told himof André Vasling's conduct. Louis could not believe it, butPenellan convinced him that after his disappearance Vasling hadalways acted so as to secure Marie's hand. The whole day was employed in rest and the pleasures of reunion. Misonne and Pierre Nouquet killed some sea-birds near the hut, whence it was not prudent to stray far. These fresh provisionsand the replenished fire raised the spirits of the weakest. LouisCornbutte got visibly better. It was the first moment ofhappiness these brave people had experienced. They celebrated itwith enthusiasm in this wretched hut, six hundred leagues fromthe North Sea, in a temperature of thirty degrees below zero! This temperature lasted till the end of the moon, and it was notuntil about the 17th of November, a week after their meeting, that Jean Cornbutte and his party could think of setting out. They only had the light of the stars to guide them; but the coldwas less extreme, and even some snow fell. Before quitting this place a grave was dug for poor Courtois. Itwas a sad ceremony, which deeply affected his comrades. He wasthe first of them who would not again see his native land. Misonne had constructed, with the planks of the cabin, a sort ofsledge for carrying the provisions, and the sailors drew it byturns. Jean Cornbutte led the expedition by the ways alreadytraversed. Camps were established with great promptness when thetimes for repose came. Jean Cornbutte hoped to find his depositsof provisions again, as they had become well-nigh indispensableby the addition of four persons to the party. He was thereforevery careful not to diverge from the route by which he had come. By good fortune he recovered his sledge, which had stranded nearthe promontory where they had all run so many dangers. The dogs, after eating their straps to satisfy their hunger, had attackedthe provisions in the sledge. These had sustained them, and theyserved to guide the party to the sledge, where there was aconsiderable quantity of provisions left. The little band resumedits march towards the bay. The dogs were harnessed to the sleigh, and no event of interest attended the return. It was observed that Aupic, André Vasling, and the Norwegianskept aloof, and did not mingle with the others; but, unbeknown tothemselves, they were narrowly watched. This germ of dissensionmore than once aroused the fears of Louis Cornbutte and Penellan. About the 7th of December, twenty days after the discovery of thecastaways, they perceived the bay where the "Jeune-Hardie" waslying. What was their astonishment to see the brig perched fouryards in the air on blocks of ice! They hurried forward, muchalarmed for their companions, and were received with joyous criesby Gervique, Turquiette, and Gradlin. All of them were in goodhealth, though they too had been subjected to formidable dangers. The tempest had made itself felt throughout the polar sea. Theice had been broken and displaced, crushed one piece againstanother, and had seized the bed on which the ship rested. Thoughits specific weight tended to carry it under water, the ice hadacquired an incalculable force, and the brig had been suddenlyraised up out of the sea. The first moments were given up to the happiness inspired by thesafe return. The exploring party were rejoiced to find everythingin good condition, which assured them a supportable though itmight be a rough winter. The ship had not been shaken by hersudden elevation, and was perfectly tight. When the season ofthawing came, they would only have to slide her down an inclinedplane, to launch her, in a word, in the once more open sea. But a bad piece of news spread gloom on the faces of JeanCornbutte and his comrades. During the terrible gale the snowstorehouse on the coast had been quite demolished; the provisionswhich it contained were scattered, and it had not been possibleto save a morsel of them. When Jean and Louis Cornbutte learntthis, they visited the hold and steward's room, to ascertain thequantity of provisions which still remained. The thaw would not come until May, and the brig could not leavethe bay before that period. They had therefore five winter monthsbefore them to pass amid the ice, during which fourteen personswere to be fed. Having made his calculations, Jean Cornbuttefound that he would at most be able to keep them alive till thetime for departure, by putting each and all on half rations. Hunting for game became compulsory to procure food in largerquantity. For fear that they might again run short of provisions, it wasdecided to deposit them no longer in the ground. All of them werekept on board, and beds were disposed for the new comers in thecommon lodging. Turquiette, Gervique, and Gradlin, during theabsence of the others, had hollowed out a flight of steps in theice, which enabled them easily to reach the ship's deck. CHAPTER XIII. THE TWO RIVALS. André Vasling had been cultivating the good-will of the twoNorwegian sailors. Aupic also made one of their band, and heldhimself apart, with loud disapproval of all the new measurestaken; but Louis Cornbutte, to whom his father had transferredthe command of the ship, and who had become once more master onboard, would listen to no objections from that quarter, and inspite of Marie's advice to act gently, made it known that heintended to be obeyed on all points. Nevertheless, the two Norwegians succeeded, two days after, ingetting possession of a box of salt meat. Louis ordered them toreturn it to him on the spot, but Aupic took their part, andAndré Vasling declared that the precautions about the food couldnot be any longer enforced. It was useless to attempt to show these men that these measureswere for the common interest, for they knew it well, and onlysought a pretext to revolt. Penellan advanced towards the Norwegians, who drew theircutlasses; but, aided by Misonne and Turquiette, he succeeded insnatching the weapons from their hands, and gained possession ofthe salt meat. André Vasling and Aupic, seeing that matters weregoing against them, did not interfere. Louis Cornbutte, however, took the mate aside, and said to him, -- [Illustration: Penellan advanced towards the Norwegians. ] "André Vasling, you are a wretch! I know your whole conduct, andI know what you are aiming at, but as the safety of the wholecrew is confided to me, if any man of you thinks of conspiring todestroy them, I will stab him with my own hand!" "Louis Cornbutte, " replied the mate, "it is allowable for you toact the master; but remember that absolute obedience does notexist here, and that here the strongest alone makes the law. " Marie had never trembled before the dangers of the polar seas;but she was terrified by this hatred, of which she was the cause, and the captain's vigour hardly reassured her. Despite this declaration of war, the meals were partaken of incommon and at the same hours. Hunting furnished some ptarmigansand white hares; but this resource would soon fail them, with theapproach of the terrible cold weather. This began at thesolstice, on the 22nd of December, on which day the thermometerfell to thirty-five degrees below zero. The men experienced painin their ears, noses, and the extremities of their bodies. Theywere seized with a mortal torpor combined with headache, andtheir breathing became more and more difficult. In this state they had no longer any courage to go hunting or totake any exercise. They remained crouched around the stove, whichgave them but a meagre heat; and when they went away from it, they perceived that their blood suddenly cooled. Jean Cornbutte's health was seriously impaired, and he could nolonger quit his lodging. Symptoms of scurvy manifested themselvesin him, and his legs were soon covered with white spots. Mariewas well, however, and occupied herself tending the sick oneswith the zeal of a sister of charity. The honest fellows blessedher from the bottom of their hearts. The 1st of January was one of the gloomiest of these winter days. The wind was violent, and the cold insupportable. They could notgo out, except at the risk of being frozen. The most courageouswere fain to limit themselves to walking on deck, sheltered bythe tent. Jean Cornbutte, Gervique, and Gradlin did not leavetheir beds. The two Norwegians, Aupic, and André Vasling, whosehealth was good, cast ferocious looks at their companions, whomthey saw wasting away. Louis Cornbutte led Penellan on deck, and asked him how muchfiring was left. "The coal was exhausted long ago, " replied Penellan, "and we areabout to burn our last pieces of wood. " "If we are not able to keep off this cold, we are lost, " saidLouis. "There still remains a way--" said Penellan, "to burn what we canof the brig, from the barricading to the water-line; and we caneven, if need be, demolish her entirely, and rebuild a smallercraft. " "That is an extreme means, " replied Louis, "which it will be fulltime to employ when our men are well. For, " he added in a lowvoice, "our force is diminishing, and that of our enemies seemsto be increasing. That is extraordinary. " "It is true, " said Penellan; "and unless we took the precautionto watch night and day, I know not what would happen to us. " "Let us take our hatchets, " returned Louis, "and make our harvestof wood. " Despite the cold, they mounted on the forward barricading, andcut off all the wood which was not indispensably necessary to theship; then they returned with this new provision. The fire wasstarted afresh, and a man remained on guard to prevent it fromgoing out. Meanwhile Louis Cornbutte and his friends were soon tired out. They could not confide any detail of the life in common to theirenemies. Charged with all the domestic cares, their powers weresoon exhausted. The scurvy betrayed itself in Jean Cornbutte, whosuffered intolerable pain. Gervique and Gradlin showed symptomsof the same disease. Had it not been for the lemon-juice withwhich they were abundantly furnished, they would have speedilysuccumbed to their sufferings. This remedy was not spared inrelieving them. But one day, the 15th of January, when Louis Cornbutte was goingdown into the steward's room to get some lemons, he was stupefiedto find that the barrels in which they were kept had disappeared. He hurried up and told Penellan of this misfortune. A theft hadbeen committed, and it was easy to recognize its authors. LouisCornbutte then understood why the health of his enemies continuedso good! His friends were no longer strong enough to take thelemons away from them, though his life and that of his comradesdepended on the fruit; and he now sank, for the first time, intoa gloomy state of despair. CHAPTER XIV. DISTRESS. On the 20th of January most of the crew had not the strength toleave their beds. Each, independently of his woollen coverings, had a buffalo-skin to protect him against the cold; but as soonas he put his arms outside the clothes, he felt a pain whichobliged him quickly to cover them again. Meanwhile, Louis having lit the stove fire, Penellan, Misonne, and André Vasling left their beds and crouched around it. Penellan prepared some boiling coffee, which gave them somestrength, as well as Marie, who joined them in partaking of it. Louis Cornbutte approached his father's bedside; the old man wasalmost motionless, and his limbs were helpless from disease. Hemuttered some disconnected words, which carried grief to hisson's heart. "Louis, " said he, "I am dying. O, how I suffer! Save me!" Louis took a decisive resolution. He went up to the mate, and, controlling himself with difficulty, said, -- "Do you know where the lemons are, Vasling?" "In the steward's room, I suppose, " returned the mate, withoutstirring. "You know they are not there, as you have stolen them!" "You are master, Louis Cornbutte, and may say and do anything. " "For pity's sake, André Vasling, my father is dying! You can savehim, --answer!" "I have nothing to answer, " replied André Vasling. "Wretch!" cried Penellan, throwing himself, cutlass in hand, onthe mate. "Help, friends!" shouted Vasling, retreating. Aupic and the two Norwegian sailors jumped from their beds andplaced themselves behind him. Turquiette, Penellan, and Louisprepared to defend themselves. Pierre Nouquet and Gradlin, thoughsuffering much, rose to second them. "You are still too strong for us, " said Vasling. "We do not wishto fight on an uncertainty. " The sailors were so weak that they dared not attack the fourrebels, for, had they failed, they would have been lost. "André Vasling!" said Louis Cornbutte, in a gloomy tone, "if myfather dies, you will have murdered him; and I will kill you likea dog!" Vasling and his confederates retired to the other end of thecabin, and did not reply. It was then necessary to renew the supply of wood, and, in spiteof the cold, Louis went on deck and began to cut away a part ofthe barricading, but was obliged to retreat in a quarter of anhour, for he was in danger of falling, overcome by the freezingair. As he passed, he cast a glance at the thermometer leftoutside, and saw that the mercury was frozen. The cold, then, exceeded forty-two degrees below zero. The weather was dry, andthe wind blew from the north. On the 26th the wind changed to the north-east, and thethermometer outside stood at thirty-five degrees. Jean Cornbuttewas in agony, and his son had searched in vain for some remedywith which to relieve his pain. On this day, however, throwinghimself suddenly on Vasling, he managed to snatch a lemon fromhim which he was about to suck. Vasling made no attempt to recover it. He seemed to be awaitingan opportunity to accomplish his wicked designs. The lemon-juice somewhat relieved old Cornbutte, but it wasnecessary to continue the remedy. Marie begged Vasling on herknees to produce the lemons, but he did not reply, and soonPenellan heard the wretch say to his accomplices, -- [Illustration: Marie begged Vasling on her knees to produce thelemons, but he did not reply. ] "The old fellow is dying. Gervique, Gradlin, and Nouquet are notmuch better. The others are daily losing their strength. The timeis near when their lives will belong to us!" It was then resolved by Louis Cornbutte and his adherents not towait, and to profit by the little strength which still remainedto them. They determined to act the next night, and to kill thesewretches, so as not to be killed by them. The temperature rose a little. Louis Cornbutte ventured to go outwith his gun in search of some game. He proceeded some three miles from the ship, and often, deceivedby the effects of the mirage and refraction, he went farther awaythan he intended. It was imprudent, for recent tracts offerocious animals were to be seen. He did not wish, however, toreturn without some fresh meat, and continued on his route; buthe then experienced a strange feeling, which turned his head. Itwas what is called "white vertigo. " The reflection of the ice hillocks and fields affected him fromhead to foot, and it seemed to him that the dazzling colourpenetrated him and caused an irresistible nausea. His eye wasattacked. His sight became uncertain. He thought he should go madwith the glare. Without fully understanding this terrible effect, he advanced on his way, and soon put up a ptarmigan, which heeagerly pursued. The bird soon fell, and in order to reach itLouis leaped from an ice-block and fell heavily; for the leap wasat least ten feet, and the refraction made him think it was onlytwo. The vertigo then seized him, and, without knowing why, hebegan to call for help, though he had not been injured by thefall. The cold began to take him, and he rose with pain, urged bythe sense of self-preservation. Suddenly, without being able to account for it, he smelt an odourof boiling fat. As the ship was between him and the wind, hesupposed that this odour proceeded from her, and could notimagine why they should be cooking fat, this being a dangerousthing to do, as it was likely to attract the white bears. Louis returned towards the ship, absorbed in reflections whichsoon inspired his excited mind with terror. It seemed to him asif colossal masses were moving on the horizon, and he askedhimself if there was not another ice-quake. Several of thesemasses interposed themselves between him and the ship, andappeared to rise about its sides. He stopped to gaze at them moreattentively, when to his horror he recognized a herd of giganticbears. These animals had been attracted by the odour of grease which hadsurprised Lonis. He sheltered himself behind a hillock, andcounted three, which were scaling the blocks on which the"Jeune-Hardie" was resting. Nothing led him to suppose that this danger was known in theinterior of the ship, and a terrible anguish oppressed his heart. How resist these redoubtable enemies? Would André Vasling and hisconfederates unite with the rest on board in the common peril?Could Penellan and the others, half starved, benumbed with cold, resist these formidable animals, made wild by unassuaged hunger?Would they not be surprised by an unlooked-for attack? Louis made these reflections rapidly. The bears had crossed theblocks, and were mounting to the assault of the ship. He mightthen quit the block which protected him; he went nearer, clingingto the ice, and could soon see the enormous animals tearing thetent with their paws, and leaping on the deck. He thought offiring his gun to give his comrades notice; but if these came upwithout arms, they would inevitably be torn in pieces, andnothing showed as yet that they were even aware of their newdanger. CHAPTER XV. THE WHITE BEARS. After Louis Cornbutte's departure, Penellan had carefully shutthe cabin door, which opened at the foot of the deck steps. Hereturned to the stove, which he took it upon himself to watch, whilst his companions regained their berths in search of a littlewarmth. It was then six in the evening, and Penellan set about preparingsupper. He went down into the steward's room for some salt meat, which he wished to soak in the boiling water. When he returned, he found André Vasling in his place, cooking some pieces ofgrease in a basin. "I was there before you, " said Penellan roughly; "why have youtaken my place?" "For the same reason that you claim it, " returned Vasling:"because I want to cook my supper. " "You will take that off at once, or we shall see!" "We shall see nothing, " said Vasling; "my supper shall be cookedin spite of you. " "You shall not eat it, then, " cried Penellan, rushing uponVasling, who seized his cutlass, crying, -- "Help, Norwegians! Help, Aupic!" These, in the twinkling of an eye, sprang to their feet, armedwith pistols and daggers. The crisis had come. Penellan precipitated himself upon Vasling, to whom, no doubt, was confided the task to fight him alone; for his accomplicesrushed to the beds where lay Misonne, Turquiette, and Nouquet. The latter, ill and defenceless, was delivered over to Herming'sferocity. The carpenter seized a hatchet, and, leaving his berth, hurried up to encounter Aupic. Turquiette and Jocki, theNorwegian, struggled fiercely. Gervique and Gradlin, sufferinghorribly, were not even conscious of what was passing aroundthem. Nouquet soon received a stab in the side, and Herming turned toPenellan, who was fighting desperately. André Vasling had seizedhim round the body. At the beginning of the affray the basin had been upset on thestove, and the grease running over the burning coals, impregnatedthe atmosphere with its odour. Marie rose with cries of despair, and hurried to the bed of old Jean Cornbutte. [Illustration: Marie rose with cries of despair, and hurried tothe bed of old Jean Cornbutte. ] Vasling, less strong than Penellan, soon perceived that thelatter was getting the better of him. They were too closetogether to make use of their weapons. The mate, seeing Herming, cried out, -- "Help, Herming!" "Help, Misonne!" shouted Penellan, in his turn. But Misonne was rolling on the ground with Aupic, who was tryingto stab him with his cutlass. The carpenter's hatchet was oflittle use to him, for he could not wield it, and it was with thegreatest difficulty that he parried the lunges which Aupic madewith his knife. Meanwhile blood flowed amid the groans and cries. Turquiette, thrown down by Jocki, a man of immense strength, had received awound in the shoulder, and he tried in vain to clutch a pistolwhich hung in the Norwegian's belt. The latter held him as in avice, and it was impossible for him to move. At Vasling's cry for help, who was being held by Penellan closeagainst the door, Herming rushed up. As he was about to stab theBreton's back with his cutlass, the latter felled him to theearth with a vigorous kick. His effort to do this enabled Vaslingto disengage his right arm; but the door, against which theypressed with all their weight, suddenly yielded, and Vasling fellover. Of a sudden a terrible growl was heard, and a gigantic bearappeared on the steps. Vasling saw him first. He was not fourfeet away from him. At the same moment a shot was heard, and thebear, wounded or frightened, retreated. Vasling, who hadsucceeded in regaining his feet, set-out in pursuit of him, abandoning Penellan. Penellan then replaced the door, and looked around him. Misonneand Turquiette, tightly garrotted by their antagonists, had beenthrown into a corner, and made vain efforts to break loose. Penellan rushed to their assistance, but was overturned by thetwo Norwegians and Aupic. His exhausted strength did not permithim to resist these three men, who so clung to him as to hold himmotionless Then, at the cries of the mate, they hurried on deck, thinking that Louis Cornbutte was to be encountered. André Vasling was struggling with a bear, which he had alreadytwice stabbed with his knife. The animal, beating the air withhis heavy paws, was trying to clutch Vasling; he retiring littleby little on the barricading, was apparently doomed, when asecond shot was heard. The bear fell. André Vasling raised hishead and saw Louis Cornbutte in the ratlines of the mizen-mast, his gun in his hand. Louis had shot the bear in the heart, and hewas dead. Hate overcame gratitude in Vasling's breast; but beforesatisfying it, he looked around him. Aupic's head was broken by apaw-stroke, and he lay lifeless on deck. Jocki, hatchet in hand, was with difficulty parrying the blows of the second bear whichhad just killed Aupic. The animal had received two wounds, andstill struggled desperately. A third bear was directing his waytowards the ship's prow. Vasling paid no attention to him, but, followed by Herming, went to the aid of Jocki; but Jocki, seizedby the beast's paws, was crushed, and when the bear fell underthe shots of the other two men, he held only a corpse in hisshaggy arms. "We are only two, now" said Vasling, with gloomy ferocity, "butif we yield, it will not be without vengeance!" Herming reloaded his pistol without replying. Before all, thethird bear must be got rid of. Vasling looked forward, but didnot see him. On raising his eyes, he perceived him erect on thebarricading, clinging to the ratlines and trying to reach Louis. Vasling let his gun fall, which he had aimed at the animal, whilea fierce joy glittered in his eyes. "Ah, " he cried, "you owe me that vengeance!" Louis took refuge in the top of the mast. The bear kept mounting, and was not more than six feet from Louis, when he raised his gunand pointed it at the animal's heart. Vasling raised his weapon to shoot Louis if the bear fell. Louis fired, but the bear did not appear to be hit, for he leapedwith a bound towards the top. The whole mast shook. Vasling uttered a shout of exultation. "Herming, " he cried, "go and find Marie! Go and find mybetrothed!" Herming descended the cabin stairs. Meanwhile the furious beast had thrown himself upon Louis, whowas trying to shelter himself on the other side of the mast; butat the moment that his enormous paw was raised to break his head, Louis, seizing one of the backstays, let himself slip down to thedeck, not without danger, for a ball hissed by his ear when hewas half-way down. Vasling had shot at him, and missed him. Thetwo adversaries now confronted each other, cutlass in hand. The combat was about to become decisive. To entirely glut hisvengeance, and to have the young girl witness her lover's death, Vasling had deprived himself of Herming's aid. He could nowreckon only on himself. Louis and Vasling seized each other by the collar, and held eachother with iron grip. One of them must fall. They struck eachother violently. The blows were only half parried, for blood soonflowed from both. Vasling tried to clasp his adversary about theneck with his arm, to bring him to the ground. Louis, knowingthat he who fell was lost, prevented him, and succeeded ingrasping his two arms; but in doing this he let fall his cutlass. Piteous cries now assailed his ears; it was Marie's voice. Herming was trying to drag her up. Louis was seized with adesperate rage. He stiffened himself to bend Vasling's loins; butat this moment the combatants felt themselves seized in apowerful embrace. The bear, having descended from the mast, hadfallen upon the two men. Vasling was pressed against the animal'sbody. Louis felt his claws entering his flesh. The bear, wasstrangling both of them. [Illustration: The bear, having descended from the mast, hadfallen upon the two men. ] "Help! help! Herming!" cried the mate. "Help! Penellan!" cried Louis. Steps were heard on the stairs. Penellan appeared, loaded hispistol, and discharged it in the bear's ear; he roared; the painmade him relax his paws for a moment, and Louis, exhausted, fellmotionless on the deck; but the bear, closing his paws tightlyin a supreme agony, fell, dragging down the wretched Vasling, whose body was crushed under him. Penellan hurried to Louis Cornbutte's assistance. No seriouswound endangered his life: he had only lost his breath for amoment. "Marie!" he said, opening his eyes. "Saved!" replied Perfellan. "Herming is lying there with a knife-woundin his stomach. " "And the bears--" "Dead, Louis; dead, like our enemies! But for those beasts weshould have been lost. Truly, they came to our succour. Let usthank Heaven!" Louis and Penellan descended to the cabin, and Marie fell intotheir arms. CHAPTER XVI. CONCLUSION. Herming, mortally wounded, had been carried to a berth by Misonneand Turquiette, who had succeeded in getting free. He was alreadyat the last gasp of death; and the two sailors occupied themselveswith Nouquet, whose wound was not, happily, a serious one. But a greater misfortune had overtaken Louis Cornbutte. Hisfather no longer gave any signs of life. Had he died of anxietyfor his son, delivered over to his enemies? Had he succumbed inpresence of these terrible events? They could not tell. But thepoor old sailor, broken by disease, had ceased to live! At this unexpected blow, Louis and Marie fell into a sad despair;then they knelt at the bedside and wept, as they prayed for JeanCornbutte's soul, Penellan, Misonne, and Turquiette left themalone in the cabin, and went on deck. The bodies of the threebears were carried forward. Penellan decided to keep their skins, which would be of no little use; but he did not think for amoment of eating their flesh. Besides, the number of men to feedwas now much decreased. The bodies of Vasling, Aupic, and Jocki, thrown into a hole dug on the coast, were soon rejoined by thatof Herming. The Norwegian died during the night, withoutrepentance or remorse, foaming at the mouth with rage. The three sailors repaired the tent, which, torn in severalplaces, permitted the snow to fall on the deck. The temperaturewas exceedingly cold, and kept so till the return of the sun, which did not reappear above the horizon till the 8th of January. Jean Cornbutte was buried on the coast. He had left his nativeland to find his son, and had died in these terrible regions! Hisgrave was dug on an eminence, and the sailors placed over it asimple wooden cross. From that day, Louis Cornbutte and his comrades passed throughmany other trials; but the lemons, which they found, restoredthem to health. Gervique, Gradlin, and Nouquet were able to rise from theirberths a fortnight after these terrible events, and to take alittle exercise. Soon hunting for game became more easy and its results moreabundant. The water-birds returned in large numbers. They oftenbrought down a kind of wild duck which made excellent food. Thehunters had no other deprivation to deplore than that of twodogs, which they lost in an expedition to reconnoitre the stateof the icefields, twenty-five miles to the southward. The month of February was signalized by violent tempests andabundant snows. The mean temperature was still twenty-fivedegrees below zero, but they did not suffer in comparison withpast hardships. Besides, the sight of the sun, which rose higherand higher above the horizon, rejoiced them, as it forecast theend of their torments. Heaven had pity on them, for warmth camesooner than usual that year. The ravens appeared in March, careering about the ship. Louis Cornbutte captured some craneswhich had wandered thus far northward. Flocks of wild birds werealso seen in the south. The return of the birds indicated a diminution of the cold; butit was not safe to rely upon this, for with a change of wind, orin the new or full moons, the temperature suddenly fell; and thesailors were forced to resort to their most careful precautionsto protect themselves against it. They had already burned all thebarricading, the bulkheads, and a large portion of the bridge. Itwas time, then, that their wintering was over. Happily, the meantemperature of March was not over sixteen degrees below zero. Marie occupied herself with preparing new clothing for theadvanced season of the year. After the equinox, the sun had remained constantly above thehorizon. The eight months of perpetual daylight had begun. Thiscontinual sunlight, with the increasing though still quite feebleheat, soon began to act upon the ice. Great precautions were necessary in launching the ship from thelofty layer of ice which surrounded her. She was thereforesecurely propped up, and it seemed best to await the breaking upof the ice; but the lower mass, resting on a bed of already warmwater, detached itself little by little, and the ship graduallydescended with it. Early in April she had reached her naturallevel. Torrents of rain came with April, which, extending in waves overthe ice-plain, hastened still more its breaking up. Thethermometer rose to ten degrees below zero. Some of the men tookoff their seal-skin clothes, and it was no longer necessary tokeep a fire in the cabin stove day and night. The provision ofspirit, which was not exhausted, was used only for cooking thefood. Soon the ice began to break up rapidly, and it became imprudentto venture upon the plain without a staff to sound the passages;for fissures wound in spirals here and there. Some of the sailorsfell into the water, with no worse result, however, than a prettycold bath. The seals returned, and they were often hunted, and their greaseutilized. The health of the crew was fully restored, and the time wasemployed in hunting and preparations for departure. Louis Cornbutteoften examined the channels, and decided, in consequence of the shapeof the southern coast, to attempt a passage in that direction. Thebreaking up had already begun here and there, and the floating icebegan to pass off towards the high seas. On the 25th of April theship was put in readiness. The sails, taken from their sheaths, werefound to be perfectly preserved, and it was with real delight thatthe sailors saw them once more swaying in the wind. The ship gave alurch, for she had found her floating line, and though she would notyet move forward, she lay quietly and easily in her natural element. In May the thaw became very rapid. The snow which covered thecoast melted on every hand, and formed a thick mud, which made itwell-nigh impossible to land. Small heathers, rosy and white, peeped out timidly above the lingering snow, and seemed to smileat the little heat they received. The thermometer at last roseabove zero. Twenty miles off, the ice masses, entirely separated, floatedtowards the Atlantic Ocean. Though the sea was not quite freearound the ship, channels opened by which Louis Cornbutte wishedto profit. On the 21st of May, after a parting visit to his father's grave, Louis at last set out from the bay. The hearts of the honestsailors were filled at once with joy and sadness, for one doesnot leave without regret a place where a friend has died. Thewind blew from the north, and favoured their departure. The shipwas often arrested by ice-banks, which were cut with the saws;icebergs not seldom confronted her, and it was necessary to blowthem up with powder. For a month the way was full of perils, which sometimes brought the ship to the verge of destruction; butthe crew were sturdy, and used to these dangerous exigencies. Penellan, Pierre Nouquet, Turquiette, Fidèle Misonne, did thework of ten sailors, and Marie had smiles of gratitude for each. The "Jeune-Hardie" at last passed beyond the ice in the latitudeof Jean-Mayer Island. About the 25th of June she met ships goingnorthward for seals and whales. She had been nearly a monthemerging from the Polar Sea. On the 16th of August she came in view of Dunkirk. She had beensignalled by the look-out, and the whole population flocked tothe jetty. The sailors of the ship were soon clasped in the armsof their friends. The old curé received Louis Cornbutte and Mariewith patriarchal arms, and of the two masses which he said on thefollowing day, the first was for the repose of Jean Cornbutte'ssoul, and the second to bless these two lovers, so long united inmisfortune. [Illustration: The old curé received Louis Cornbutte and Marie. ] THE FORTIETH FRENCH ASCENT OF MONT BLANC BY PAUL VERNE. I arrived at Chamonix on the 18th of August, 1871, fully decidedto make the ascent of Mont Blanc, cost what it might. My firstattempt in August, 1869, was not successful. Bad weather hadprevented me from mounting beyond the Grands-Mulets. This timecircumstances seemed scarcely more favourable, for the weather, which had promised to be fine on the morning of the 18th, suddenly changed towards noon. Mont Blanc, as they say in itsneighbourhood, "put on its cap and began to smoke its pipe, "which, to speak more plainly, means that it is covered withclouds, and that the snow, driven upon it by a south-west wind, formed a long crest on its summit in the direction of theunfathomable precipices of the Brenva glaciers. This crestbetrayed to imprudent tourists the route they would have taken, had they had the temerity to venture upon the mountain. The next night was very inclement. The rain and wind wereviolent, and the barometer, below the "change, " remainedstationary. Towards daybreak, however, several thunder-claps announced achange in the state of the atmosphere. Soon the clouds broke. Thechain of the Brevent and the Aiguilles-Rouges betrayed itself. The wind, turning to the north-west, brought into view above theCol de Balme, which shuts in the valley of Chamonix on the north, some light, isolated, fleecy clouds, which I hailed as theheralds of fine weather. Despite this happy augury and a slight rise in the barometer, M. Balmat, chief guide of Chamonix, declared to me that I must notyet think of attempting the ascent. "If the barometer continues to rise, " he added, "and the weatherholds good, I promise you guides for the day after to-morrow--perhaps for to-morrow. Meanwhile, have patience and stretch yourlegs; I will take you up the Brevent. The clouds are clearingaway, and you will be able to exactly distinguish the path youwill have to go over to reach the summit of Mont Blanc. If, inspite of this, you are determined to go, you may try it!" This speech, uttered in a certain tone, was not very reassuring, and gave food for reflection. Still, I accepted his proposition, and he chose as my companion the guide Edward Ravanel, a verysedate and devoted fellow, who perfectly knew his business. M. Donatien Levesque, an enthusiastic tourist and an intrepidpedestrian, who had made early in the previous year an interestingand difficult trip in North America, was with me. He had alreadyvisited the greater part of America, and was about to descend theMississippi to New Orleans, when the war cut short his projects andrecalled him to France. We had met at Aix-les-Bains, and we haddetermined to make an excursion together in Savoy and Switzerland. Donatien Levesque knew my intentions, and, as he thought that hishealth would not permit him to attempt so long a journey over theglaciers, it had been agreed that he should await my return fromMont Blanc at Chamonix, and should make the traditional visit tothe Mer-de-Glace by the Montanvers during my absence. On learning that I was going to ascend the Brevent, my friend didnot hesitate to accompany me thither. The ascent of the Breventis one of the most interesting trips that can be made fromChamonix. This mountain, about seven thousand six hundred feethigh, is only the prolongation of the chain for the Aiguilles-Rouges, which runs from the south-west to the north-east, parallel with thatof Mont Blanc, and forms with it the narrow valley of Chamonix. TheBrevent, by its central position, exactly opposite the Bossonsglacier, enables one to watch the parties which undertake the ascentof the giant of the Alps nearly throughout their journey. It istherefore much frequented. We started about seven o'clock in the morning. As we went along, I thought of the mysterious words of the master-guide; theyannoyed me a little. Addressing Ravanel, I said, -- "Have you made the ascent of Mont Blanc?" "Yes, monsieur, " he replied, "once; and that's enough. I am notanxious to do it again. " "The deuce!" said I. "I am going to try it. " "You are free, monsieur; but I shall not go with you. Themountain is not good this year. Several attempts have alreadybeen made; two only have succeeded. As for the second, the partytried the ascent twice. Besides, the accident last year hasrather cooled the amateurs. " "An accident! What accident?" "Did not monsieur hear of it? This is how it happened. A party, consisting of ten guides and porters and two Englishmen, startedabout the middle of September for Mont Blanc. They were seen toreach the summit; then, some minutes after, they disappeared in acloud. When the cloud passed over no one was visible. The twotravellers, with seven guides and porters, had been blown off bythe wind and precipitated on the Cormayeur side, doubtless intothe Brenva glacier. Despite the most vigilant search, theirbodies could not be found. The other three were found one hundredand fifty yards below the summit, near the Petits-Mulets. Theyhad become blocks of ice. " "But these travellers must have been imprudent, " said I toRavanel. "What folly it was to start off so late in the year onsuch an expedition! They should have gone up in August. " I vainly tried to keep up my courage; this lugubrious story wouldhaunt me in spite of myself. Happily the weather soon cleared, and the rays of a bright sun dissipated the clouds which stillveiled Mont Blanc, and, at the same time, those which overshadowedmy thoughts. Our ascent was satisfactorily accomplished. On leaving thechalets of Planpraz, situated at a height of two thousand andsixty-two yards, you ascend, on ragged masses of rock and poolsof snow, to the foot of a rock called "The Chimney, " which isscaled with the feet and hands. Twenty minutes after, you reachthe summit of the Brevent, whence the view is very fine. Thechain of Mont Blanc appears in all its majesty. The giganticmountain, firmly established on its powerful strata, seems todefy the tempests which sweep across its icy shield without everimpairing it; whilst the crowd of icy needles, peaks, mountains, which form its cortege and rise everywhere around it, withoutequalling its noble height, carry the evident traces of a slowwasting away. [Illustration: View of Mont Blanc from the Brevent. ] From the excellent look-out which we occupied, we could reckon, though still imperfectly, the distance to be gone over in orderto attain the summit. This summit, which from Chamonix appears sonear the dome of the Goûter, now took its true position. Thevarious plateaus which form so many degrees which must becrossed, and which are not visible from below, appeared from theBrevent, and threw the so-much-desired summit, by the laws ofperspective, still farther in the background. The Bossonsglacier, in all its splendour, bristled with icy needles andblocks (blocks sometimes ten yards square), which seemed, likethe waves of an angry sea, to beat against the sides of the rocksof the Grands-Mulets, the base of which disappeared in theirmidst. This marvellous spectacle was not likely to cool my impatience, and I more eagerly than ever promised myself to explore thishitherto unknown world. My companion was equally inspired by the scene, and from thismoment I began to think that I should not have to ascend MontBlanc alone. We descended again to Chamonix; the weather became milder everyhour; the barometer continued to ascend; everything seemed topromise well. The next day at sunrise I hastened to the master-guide. The skywas cloudless; the wind, almost imperceptible, was north-east. The chain of Mont Blanc, the higher summits of which were gildedby the rising sun, seemed to invite the many tourists to ascendit. One could not, in all politeness, refuse so kindly aninvitation. M. Balmat, after consulting his barometer, declared the ascent tobe practicable, and promised me the two guides and the porterprescribed in our agreement. I left the selection of these tohim. But an unexpected incident disturbed my preparations fordeparture. As I came out of M. Balmat's office, I met Ravanel, my guide ofthe day before. "Is monsieur going to Mont Blanc?" he asked. "Yes, certainly, " said I. "Is it not a favourable time logo?" He reflected a few moments, and then said with an embarrassedair, -- "Monsieur, you are my traveller; I accompanied you yesterday tothe Brevent, so I cannot leave you now; and, since you are goingup, I will go with you, if you will kindly accept my services. Itis your right, for on all dangerous journeys the traveller canchoose his own guides. Only, if you accept my offer, I ask thatyou will also take my brother, Ambrose Ravanel, and my cousin, Gaspard Simon. These are young, vigorous fellows; they do notlike the ascent of Mont Blanc better than I do; but they will notshirk it, and I answer for them to you as I would for myself. " This young man inspired me with all confidence. I accepted hisproposition, and hastened to apprise M. Balmat of the choice Ihad made. But M. Balmat had meanwhile been selecting guides forme according to their turn on his list. One only had accepted, Edward Simon; the answer of another, Jean Carrier, had not yetbeen received, though it was scarcely doubtful, as this man hadalready made the ascent of Mont Blanc twenty-nine times. I thusfound myself in an embarrassing position. The guides I had chosenwere all from Argentière, a village six kilometres from Chamonix. Those of Chamonix accused Ravanel of having influenced me infavour of his family, which was contrary to the regulations. To cut the discussion short, I took Edward Simon, who had alreadymade his preparations as a third guide. He would be useless if Iwent up alone, but would become indispensable if my friend alsoascended. This settled, I went to tell Donatien Levesque. I found himsleeping the sleep of the just, for he had walked over sixteenkilometres on a mountain the evening before. I had somedifficulty in waking him; but on removing first his sheets, thenhis pillows, and finally his mattress, I obtained some result, and succeeded in making him understand that I was preparing forthe hazardous trip. "Well, " said he, yawning, "I will go with you as far as theGrands-Mulets, and await your return there. " "Bravo!" I replied. "I have just one guide too many, and I willattach him to your person. " We bought the various articles indispensable to a journey acrossthe glaciers. Iron-spiked alpenstocks, coarse cloth leggings, green spectacles fitting tightly to the eyes, furred gloves, green veils, --nothing was forgotten. We each had excellenttriple-soled shoes, which our guides roughed for the ice. Thislast is an important detail, for there are moments in such anexpedition when the least slip is fatal, not only to yourself, but to the whole party with you. Our preparations and those of the guides occupied nearly twohours. About eight o'clock our mules were brought; and we set outat last for the chalet of the Pierre-Pointue, situated at aheight of six thousand five hundred feet, or three thousand abovethe valley of Chamonix, not far from eight thousand five hundredfeet below the summit of Mont Blanc. On reaching the Pierre-Pointue, about ten o'clock, we found therea Spanish tourist, M. N----, accompanied by two guides and aporter. His principal guide, Paccard, a relative of the DoctorPaccard who made, with Jacques Balmat, the first ascent of MontBlanc, had already been to the summit eighteen times. M. N----was also getting himself ready for the ascent. He had travelledmuch in America, and had crossed the Cordilleras to Quito, passing through snow at the highest points. He therefore thoughtthat he could, without great difficulty, carry through his newenterprise; but in this he was mistaken. He had reckoned withoutthe steepness of the inclinations which he had to cross, and therarefaction of the air. I hasten to add, to his honour, that, since he succeeded in reaching the summit of Mont Blanc, it wasdue to a rare moral energy, for his physical energies had longbefore deserted him. We breakfasted as heartily as possible at the Pierre-Pointue;this being a prudent precaution, as the appetite usually failshigher up among the ice. [Illustration: View Of Bossons Glacier, Near The Grands-Mulets. ] M. N---- set out at eleven, with his guides, for the Grands-Mulets. We did not start until noon. The mule-road ceases at thePierre-Pointue. We had then to go up a very narrow zigzag path, which follows the edge of the Bossons glacier, and along the baseof the Aiguille-du-Midi. After an hour of difficult climbing inan intense heat, we reached a point called the Pierre-a-l'Echelle, eight thousand one hundred feet high. The guides and travellerswere then bound together by a strong rope, with three or four yardsbetween each. We were about to advance upon the Bossons glacier. This glacier, difficult at first, presents yawning and apparentlybottomless crevasses on every hand. The vertical sides of thesecrevasses are of a glaucous and uncertain colour, but too seducingto the eye; when, approaching closely, you succeed in looking intotheir mysterious depths, you feel yourself irresistibly drawntowards them, and nothing seems more natural than to go down intothem. [Illustration: Passage Of The Bossons Glacier. ] You advance slowly, passing round the crevasses, or on the snowbridges of dubious strength. Then the rope plays its part. It isstretched out over these dangerous transits; if the snow bridgeyields, the guide or traveller remains hanging over the abyss. Heis drawn beyond it, and gets off with a few bruises. Sometimes, if the crevasse is very wide but not deep, he descends to thebottom and goes up on the other side. In this case it isnecessary to cut steps in the ice, and the two leading guides, armed with a sort of hatchet, perform this difficult and periloustask. A special circumstance makes the entrance on the Bossonsdangerous. You go upon the glacier at the base of theAiguille-du-Midi, opposite a passage whence stone avalanches oftendescend. This passage is nearly six hundred feet wide. It must becrossed quickly, and as you pass, a guide stands on guard toavert the danger from you if it presents itself. In 1869 a guidewas killed on this spot, and his body, hurled into space by astone, was dashed to pieces on the rocks nine hundred feet below. [Illustration: Crevasse and Bridge. ] We were warned, and hastened our steps as fast as ourinexperience would permit; but on leaving this dangerous zone, another, not less dangerous, awaited us. This was the region ofthe "seracs, "--immense blocks of ice, the formation of which isnot as yet explained. [Illustration: View of the "Seracs". ] These are usually situated on the edge of a plateau, and menacethe whole valley beneath them. A slight movement of the glacier, or even a light vibration of the temperature, impels their fall, and occasions the most serious accidents. [Illustration: View of the "Seracs". ] "Messieurs, keep quiet, and let us pass over quickly. " Thesewords, roughly spoken by one of the guides, checked our conversation. We went across rapidly and in silence. We finally reached what iscalled the "Junction" (which might more properly be called theviolent "Separation"), by the Côte Mountain, the Bossons andTacconay glaciers. At this point the scene assumes an indescribablecharacter; crevasses with changing colours, ice-needles with sharpforms, seracs suspended and pierced with the light, little greenlakes compose a chaos which surpasses everything that one canimagine. Added to this, the rush of the torrents at the foot of theglaciers, the sinister and repeated crackings of the blocks whichdetached themselves and fell in avalanches down the crevasses, thetrembling of the ground which opened beneath our feet, gave asingular idea of those desolate places the existence of which onlybetrays itself by destruction and death. [Illustration: Passage of the "Junction". ] After passing the "Junction" you follow the Tacconay glacier forawhile, and reach the side which leads to the Grands-Mulets. Thispart, which is very sloping, is traversed in zigzags. The leadingguide takes care to trace them at an angle of thirty degrees, when there is fresh snow, to avoid the avalanches. After crossing for three hours on the ice and snow, we reach theGrands-Mulets, rocks six hundred feet high, overlooking on oneside the Bossons glacier, and on the other the sloping plainswhich extend to the base of the Goûter dome. [Illustration: Hut At The Grands-Mulets. ] A small hut, constructed by the guides near the summit of thefirst rock, gives a shelter to travellers, and enables them toawait a favourable moment for setting out for the summit of MontBlanc. They dine there as well as they can, and sleep too; but theproverb, "He who sleeps dines, " does not apply to this elevation, for one cannot seriously do the one or the other. "Well, " said I to Levesque, after a pretence of a meal, "did Iexaggerate the splendour of the landscape, and do you regrethaving come thus far?" "I regret it so little, " he replied, "that I am determined to goon to the summit. You may count on me. " "Very good, " said I. "But you know the worst is yet to come. " "Nonsense!" he exclaimed, "we will go to the end. Meanwhile, letus observe the sunset, which must be magnificent. " The heavens had remained wonderfully clear. The chain of theBrevent and the Aiguilles-Rouges stretched out at our feet. Beyond, the Fiz rocks and the Aiguille-de-Varan rose above theSallanche Valley, and the whole chains of Mont Fleury and theReposoir appeared in the background. More to the right we coulddescry the snowy summit of the Buet, and farther off theDents-du-Midi, with its five tusks, overhanging the valley of theRhone. Behind us were the eternal snows of the Goûter, MontMaudit, and, lastly, Mont Blanc. Little by little the shadows invaded the valley of Chamonix, andgradually each of the summits which overlook it on the west. Thechain of Mont Blanc alone remained luminous, and seemed encircledby a golden halo. Soon the shadows crept up the Goûter and MontMaudit. They still respected the giant of the Alps. We watchedthis gradual disappearance of the light with admiration. Itlingered awhile on the highest summit, and gave us the foolishhope that it would not depart thence. But in a few moments allwas shrouded in gloom, and the livid and ghastly colours of deathsucceeded the living hues. I do not exaggerate. Those who lovemountains will comprehend me. [Illustration: View of Mont Blanc from Grands-Mulets. ] After witnessing this sublime scene, we had only to await themoment of departure. We were to set out again at two in themorning. Now, therefore, we stretched ourselves upon ourmattresses. It was useless to think of sleeping, much more of talking. Wewere absorbed by more or less gloomy thoughts. It was the nightbefore the battle, with the difference that nothing forced us toengage in the struggle. Two sorts of ideas struggled in the mind. It was the ebb and flow of the sea, each in its turn. Objectionsto the venture were not wanting. Why run so much danger? If wesucceeded, of what advantage would it be? If an accidenthappened, how we should regret it! Then the imagination set towork; all the mountain catastrophes rose in the fancy. I dreamedof snow bridges giving way under my feet, of being precipitatedin the yawning crevasses, of hearing the terrible noises of theavalanches detaching themselves and burying me, of disappearing, of cold and death seizing upon me, and of struggling withdesperate effort, but in vain! A sharp, horrible noise is heard at this moment "The avalanche! the avalanche!" I cry. "What is the matter with you?" asks Levesque, starting up. Alas! It is a piece of furniture which, in the struggles of mynightmare, I have just broken. This very prosaic avalancherecalls me to the reality. I laugh at my terrors, a contrarycurrent of thought gets the upper hand, and with it ambitiousideas. I need only use a little effort to reach this summit, soseldom attained. It is a victory, as others are. Accidents arerare--very rare! Do they ever take place at all? The spectaclefrom the summit must be so marvellous! And then what satisfactionthere would be in having accomplished what so many others darednot undertake! My courage was restored by these thoughts, and I calmly awaitedthe moment of departure. About one o'clock the steps and voices of the guides, and thenoise of opening doors, indicated that that moment was approaching. Soon Ravanel came in and said, "Come, messieurs, get up; the weatheris magnificent. By ten o'clock we shall be at the summit. " At these words we leaped from our beds, and hurried to make ourtoilet. Two of the guides, Ambrose Ravanel and his cousin Simon, went on ahead to explore the road. They were provided with alantern, which was to show us the way to go, and with hatchets tomake the path and cut steps in the very difficult spots. At twoo'clock we tied ourselves one to another: the order of march was, Edward Ravanel before me, and at the head; behind me EdwardSimon, then Donatien Levesque; after him our two porters (for wetook along with us the domestic of the Grands-Mulets hut as asecond), and M. N----'s party. The guides and porters having distributed the provisions betweenthem, the signal for departure was given, and we set off in themidst of profound darkness, directing ourselves according to thelantern held up at some distance ahead. There was something solemn in this setting out. But few wordswere spoken; the vagueness of the unknown impressed us, but thenew and strange situation excited us, and rendered us insensibleto its dangers. The landscape around was fantastic. But fewoutlines were distinguishable. Great white confused masses, withblackish spots here and there, closed the horizon. The celestialvault shone with remarkable brilliancy. We could perceive, at anuncertain distance, the lantern of the guides who were ahead, andthe mournful silence of the night was only disturbed by the dry, distant noise of the hatchet cutting steps in the ice. We crept slowly and cautiously over the first ascent, goingtowards the base of the Goûter. After ascending laboriously fortwo hours, we reached the first plateau, called the "Petit-Plateau, "at the foot of the Goûter, at a height of about eleven thousand feet. We rested a few moments and then proceeded, turning now to the leftand going towards the edge which conducts to the "Grand-Plateau. " But our party had already lessened in number: M. N----, with hisguides, had stopped; his fatigue obliged him to take a longerrest. About half-past four dawn began to whiten the horizon. At thismoment we were ascending the slope which leads to the Grand-Plateau, which we soon safely reached. We were eleven thousand eight hundredfeet high. We had well earned our breakfast. Wonderful to relate, Levesque and I had a good appetite. It was a good sign. We thereforeinstalled ourselves on the snow, and made such a repast as we could. Our guides joyfully declared that success was certain. As for me, Ithought they resumed work too quickly. M. N---- rejoined us before long. We urged him to take somenourishment. He peremptorily refused. He felt the contraction ofthe stomach which is so common in those parts, and was almostbroken down. The Grand-Plateau deserves a special description. On the rightrises the dome of the Goûter. Opposite it is Mont Blanc, rearingitself two thousand seven hundred feet above it. On the left arethe "Rouges" rocks and Mont Maudit. This immense circle is onemass of glittering whiteness. On every side are vast crevasses. It was in one of these that three of the guides who accompaniedDr. Hamel and Colonel Anderson, in 1820, were swallowed up. In1864 another guide met his death there. This plateau must be crossed with great caution, as the crevassesare often hidden by the snow; besides, it is often swept byavalanches. On the 13th of October, 1866, an English travellerand three of his guides were buried under a mass of ice that fellfrom Mont Blanc. After a perilous search, the bodies of the threeguides were found. They were expecting every moment to find thatof the Englishman, when a fresh avalanche fell upon the first, and forced the searchers to abandon their task. [Illustration: Crossing the Plateau. ] Three routes presented themselves to us. The ordinary route, which passes entirely to the left, by the base of Mont Maudit, through a sort of valley called the "Corridor, " leads by gentleascents to the top of the first escarpment of the Rouges rocks. The second, less frequented, turns to the right by the Goûter, and leads to the summit of Mont Blanc by the ridge which unitesthese two mountains. You must pursue for three hours a giddypath, and scale a height of moving ice, called the "Camel'sHump. " The third route consists in ascending directly to the summit ofthe Corridor, crossing an ice-wall seven hundred and fifty feethigh, which extends along the first escarpment of the Rougesrocks. The guides declared the first route impracticable, on account ofthe recent crevasses which entirely obstructed it; the choicebetween the two others remained. I thought the second, by the"Camel's Hump, " the best; but it was regarded as too dangerous, and it was decided that we should attack the ice-wall conductingto the summit of the Corridor. When a decision is made, it is best to execute it without delay. We crossed the Grand-Plateau, and reached the foot of this reallyformidable obstacle. The nearer we approached the more nearly vertical became itsslope. Besides, several crevasses which we had not perceivedyawned at its base. We nevertheless began the difficult ascent. Steps were begun bythe foremost guide, and completed by the next. We ascended twosteps a minute. The higher we went the more the steepnessincreased. Our guides themselves discussed what route to follow;they spoke in patois, and did not always agree, which was not agood sign. At last the slope became such that our hats touchedthe legs of the guide just before us. A hailstorm of pieces of ice, produced by the cutting of thesteps, blinded us, and made our progress still more difficult. Addressing one of the foremost guides, I said, -- "Ah, it's very well going up this way! It is not an open road, Iadmit: still, it is practicable. Only how are you going to get usdown again?" "O monsieur, " replied Ambrose Ravanel, "we will take anotherroute going back. " At last, after violent effort for two hours, and after having cutmore than four hundred steps in this terrible mass, we reachedthe summit of the Corridor completely exhausted. We then crossed a slightly sloping plateau of snow, and passedalong the side of an immense crevasse which obstructed our way. We had scarcely turned it when we uttered a cry of admiration. Onthe right, Piedmont and the plains of Lombardy were at our feet. On the left, the Pennine Alps and the Oberland, crowned withsnow, raised their magnificent crests. Monte Rosa and the Cervinalone still rose above us, but soon we should overlook them inour turn. This reflection recalled us to the end of our expedition. Weturned our gaze towards Mont Blanc, and stood stupefied. "Heavens! how far off it is still!" cried Levesque. "And how high!" I added. It was a discouraging sight. The famous wall of the ridge, somuch feared, but which must be crossed, was before us, with itsslope of fifty degrees. But after scaling the wall of theCorridor, it did not terrify us. We rested for half an hour andthen continued our tramp; but we soon perceived that theatmospheric conditions were no longer the same. The sun shed hiswarm rays upon us; and their reflection on the snow added to ourdiscomfort. The rarefaction of the air began to be severely felt. We advanced slowly, making frequent halts, and at last reachedthe plateau which overlooks the second escarpment of the Rougesrocks. We were at the foot of Mont Blanc. It rose, alone andmajestic, at a height of six hundred feet above us. Monte Rosaitself had lowered its flag! Levesque and I were completely exhausted. As for M. N----, whohad rejoined us at the summit of the Corridor, it might be saidthat he was insensible to the rarefaction of the air, for he nolonger breathed, so to speak. We began at last to scale the last stage. We made ten steps andthen stopped, finding it absolutely impossible to proceed. Apainful contraction of the throat made our breathing exceedinglydifficult. Our legs refused to carry us; and I then understoodthe picturesque expression of Jacques Balmat, when, in narratinghis first ascent, he said that "his legs seemed only to be keptup by his trousers!" But our mental was superior to our physicalforce; and if the body faltered, the heart, responding "Excelsior!"stifled its desperate complaint, and urged forward our poor worn-outmechanism, despite itself. We thus passed the Petits-Mulets, andafter two hours of superhuman efforts finally overlooked the entirechain. Mont Blanc was under our feet! [Illustration: Summit of Mont Blanc. ] It was fifteen minutes after twelve. The pride of success soon dissipated our fatigue. We had at lastconquered this formidable crest. We overlooked all the others, and the thoughts which Mont Blanc alone can inspire affected uswith a deep emotion. It was ambition satisfied; and to me, atleast, a dream realized! Mont Blanc is the highest mountain in Europe. Several mountainsin Asia and America are higher; but of what use would it be toattempt them, if, in the absolute impossibility of reaching theirsummit, you must be content to remain at a lesser height? Others, such as Mont Cervin, are more difficult of access; but weperceived the summit of Mont Cervin twelve hundred feet below us! And then, what a view to reward us for our troubles and dangers! The sky, still pure, had assumed a deep-blue tint. The sun, despoiled of a part of his rays, had lost his brilliancy, as ifin a partial eclipse. This effect, due to the rarefaction of theair, was all the more apparent as the surrounding eminences andplains were inundated with light. No detail of the scene, therefore, escaped our notice. In the south-east, the mountains of Piedmont, and farther off theplains of Lombardy, shut in our horizon. Towards the west, themountains of Savoy and Dauphiné; beyond, the valley of the Rhone. In the north-west, the Lake of Geneva and the Jura; then, descending towards the south, a chaos of mountains and glaciers, beyond description, overlooked by the masses of Monte Rosa, theMischabelhoerner, the Cervin, the Weishorn--the most beautiful ofcrests, as Tyndall calls it--and farther off by the Jungfrau, theMonck, the Eiger, and the Finsteraarhorn. The extent of our range of vision was not less than sixtyleagues. We therefore saw at least one hundred and twenty leaguesof country. A special circumstance happened to enhance the beauty of thescene. Clouds formed on the Italian side and invaded the valleysof the Pennine Alps without veiling their summits. We soon hadunder our eyes a second sky, a lower sky, a sea of clouds, whenceemerged a perfect archipelago of peaks and snow-wrappedmountains. There was something magical in it, which the greatestpoets could scarcely describe. The summit of Mont Blanc forms a ridge from southwest to north-east, two hundred paces long and a yard wide at the culminatingpoint. It seemed like a ship's hull overturned, the keel in theair. Strangely enough, the temperature was very high--ten degrees abovezero. The air was almost still. Sometimes we felt a light breeze. The first care of our guides was to place us all in a line on thecrest opposite Chamonix, that we might be easily counted frombelow, and thus make it known that no one of us had been lost. Many of the tourists had ascended the Brevent and the Jardin towatch our ascent. They might now be assured of its success. But to ascend was not all; we must think also of going down. Themost difficult, if not most wearisome, task remained; and thenone quits with regret a summit attained at the price of so muchtoil. The energy which urges you to ascend, the need, so naturaland imperious, of overcoming, now fails you. You go forwardlistlessly, often looking behind you! It was necessary, however, to decide, and, after a lasttraditional libation of champagne, we put ourselves in motion. Wehad remained on the summit an hour. The order of march was nowchanged. M. N----'s party led off; and, at the suggestion of hisguide Paccard, we were all tied together with a rope. M. N----'sfatigue, which his strength, but not his will, betrayed, made usfear falls on his part which would require the help of the wholeparty to arrest. The event justified our foreboding. Ondescending the side of the wall, M. N---- made several falsesteps. His guides, very vigorous and skilful, were happily ableto check him; but ours, feeling, with reason, that the wholeparty might be dragged down, wished to detach us from the rope. Levesque and I opposed this; and, by taking great precautions, wesafely reached the base of this giddy ledge. There was no roomfor illusions. The almost bottomless abyss was before us, and thepieces of detached ice, which bounded by us with the rapidity ofan arrow, clearly showed us the route which the party would takeif a slip were made. Once this terrible gap crossed, I began to breathe again. Wedescended the gradual slopes which led to the summit of theCorridor. The snow, softened by the heat, yielded beneath ourfeet; we sank in it to the knees, which made our progress veryfatiguing. We steadily followed the path by which we ascended inthe morning, and I was astonished when Gaspard Simon, turningtowards me, said, -- "Monsieur, we cannot take any other road, for the Corridor isimpracticable, and we must descend by the wall which we climbedup this morning. " I told Levesque this disagreeable news. "Only, " added Gaspard Simon, "I do not think we can all remaintied together. However, we will see how M. N---- bears it atfirst. " We advanced towards this terrible wall! M. N----'s party began todescend, and we heard Paccard talking rapidly to him. Theinclination became so steep that we perceived neither him nor hisguides, though we were bound together by the same rope. As soon as Gaspard Simon, who went before me, could comprehendwhat was passing, he stopped, and after exchanging' some words in_patois_ with his comrades, declared that we must detachourselves from M. N----'s party. "We are responsible for you, " he added, "but we cannot beresponsible for others; and if they slip, they will drag us afterthem. " Saying this, he got loose from the rope. We were very unwillingto take this step; but our guides were inflexible. We then proposed to send two of them to help M. N----'s guides. They eagerly consented; but having no rope they could not putthis plan into execution. We then began this terrible descent. Only one of us moved at atime, and when each took a step the others buttressed themselvesready to sustain the shock if he slipped. The foremost guide, Edward Ravanel, had the most perilous task; it was for him tomake the steps over again, now more or less worn away by theascending caravan. We progressed slowly, taking the most careful precautions. Ourroute led us in a right line to one of the crevasses which openedat the base of the escarpment. When we were going up we could notlook at this crevasse, but in descending we were fascinated byits green and yawning sides. All the blocks of ice detached byour passage went the same way, and after two or three bounds, ingulfed themselves in the crevasse, as in the jaws of theminotaur, only the jaws of the minotaur closed after each morsel, while the unsatiated crevasse yawned perpetually, and seemed toawait, before closing, a larger mouthful. It was for us to takecare that we should not be this mouthful, and all our effortswere made for this end. In order to withdraw ourselves from thisfascination, this moral giddiness, if I may so express myself, wetried to joke about the dangerous position in which we foundourselves, and which even a chamois would not have envied us. Weeven got so far as to hum one of Offenbach's couplets; but I mustconfess that our jokes were feeble, and that we did not sing theairs correctly. I even thought I discovered Levesque obstinately setting thewords of "Barbe-Bleue" to one of the airs in "Il Trovatore, "which rather indicated some grave preoccupation of the mind. Inshort, in order to keep up our spirits, we did as do those bravecowards who sing in the dark to forget their fright. We remained thus, suspended between life and death, for an hour, which seemed an eternity; at last we reached the bottom of thisterrible escarpment. We there found M. N---- and his party, safeand sound. After resting a little while, we continued our journey. As we were approaching the Petit-Plateau, Edward Ravanel suddenlystopped, and, turning towards us, said, -- "See what an avalanche! It has covered our tracks. " An immense avalanche of ice had indeed fallen from the Goûter, and entirely buried the path we had followed in the morningacross the Petit-Plateau. I estimated that the mass of this avalanche could not compriseless than five hundred cubic yards. If it had fallen while wewere passing, one more catastrophe would no doubt have been addedto the list, already too long, of the necrology of Mont Blanc. This fresh obstacle forced us to seek a new road, or to passaround the foot of the avalanche. As we were much fatigued, thelatter course was assuredly the simplest; but it involved aserious danger. A wall of ice more than sixty feet high, alreadypartly detached from the Goûter, to which it only clung by one ofits angles, overhung the path which we should follow. This greatmass seemed to hold itself in equilibrium. What if our passing, by disturbing the air, should hasten its fall? Our guides held aconsultation. Each of them examined with a spy-glass the fissurewhich had been formed between the mountain and this alarming ice-mass. The sharp and clear edges of the cleft betrayed a recent breaking off, evidently caused by the fall of the avalanche. After a brief discussion, our guides, recognizing theimpossibility of finding another road, decided to attempt thisdangerous passage. "We must walk very fast, --even run, if possible, " said they, "andwe shall be in safety in five minutes. Come, messieurs, a lasteffort!" A run of five minutes is a small matter for people who are onlytired; but for us, who were absolutely exhausted, to run even forso short a time on soft snow, in which we sank up to the knees, seemed an impossibility. Nevertheless, we made an urgent appealto our energies, and after two or three tumbles, drawn forward byone, pushed by another, we finally reached a snow hillock, onwhich we fell breathless. We were out of danger. It required some time to recover ourselves. We stretched out onthe snow with a feeling of comfort which every one willunderstand. The greatest difficulties had been surmounted, andthough there were still dangers to brave, we could confront themwith comparatively little apprehension. We prolonged our halt in the hope of witnessing the fall of theavalanche, but in vain. As the day was advancing, and it was notprudent to tarry in these icy solitudes, we decided to continueon our way, and about five o'clock we reached the hut of theGrands-Mulets. After a bad night, attended by fever caused by the sunstrokesencountered in our expedition, we made ready to return toChamonix; but, before setting out, we inscribed the names of ourguides and the principal events of our journey, according to thecustom, on the register kept for this purpose at the Grands-Mulets. About eight o'clock we started for Chamonix. The passage of theBossons was difficult, but we accomplished it without accident. [Illustration: Grands-Mulets. --Party Descending From The Hut. ] Half an hour before reaching Chamonix, we met, at the chalet ofthe Dard falls, some English tourists, who seemed to be watchingour progress. When they perceived us, they hurried up eagerly tocongratulate us on our success. One of them presented us to hiswife, a charming person, with a well-bred air. After we had giventhem a sketch of our perilous peregrinations, she said to us, inearnest accents, -- "How much you are envied here by everybody! Let me touch youralpenstocks!" These words seemed to interpret the general feeling. The ascent of Mont Blanc is a very painful one. It is assertedthat the celebrated naturalist of Geneva, De Saussure, acquiredthere the seeds of the disease of which he died in a few monthsafter his return from the summit. I cannot better close thisnarrative than by quoting the words of M. Markham Sherwell:-- "However it may be, " he says, in describing his ascent of MontBlanc, "I would not advise any one to undertake this ascent, therewards of which can never have an importance proportionate tothe dangers encountered by the tourist, and by those whoaccompany him. " THE END.