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diff --git a/28657-h/28657-h.htm b/28657-h/28657-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d4a8d92 --- /dev/null +++ b/28657-h/28657-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,12657 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" +"http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=utf-8" /> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of A Winter Amid the Ice, by Jules Verne</title> + +<style type="text/css"> + +body { margin-left: 20%; + margin-right: 20%; + text-align: justify; } + +h1, h2, h3, h4, h5 {text-align: center; font-style: normal; font-weight: +normal; line-height: 1.5; margin-top: .5em; margin-bottom: .5em;} + +h1 {font-size: 300%; + margin-top: 0.6em; + margin-bottom: 0.6em; + letter-spacing: 0.12em; + word-spacing: 0.2em; + text-indent: 0em;} +h2 {font-size: 150%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 1em;} +h3 {font-size: 130%; margin-top: 1em;} +h4 {font-size: 120%;} +h5 {font-size: 110%;} + +.no-break {page-break-before: avoid;} /* for epubs */ + +div.chapter {page-break-before: always; margin-top: 4em;} + +hr {width: 80%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em;} + +p {text-indent: 1em; + margin-top: 0.25em; + margin-bottom: 0.25em; } + +p.poem {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10%; + font-size: 90%; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; } + +p.center {text-align: center; + text-indent: 0em; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; } + +div.fig { display:block; + margin:0 auto; + text-align:center; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em;} + +p.caption {font-weight: bold; + text-align: center; } + +a:link {color:blue; text-decoration:none} +a:visited {color:blue; text-decoration:none} +a:hover {color:red} + +</style> + +</head> + +<body> + +<div style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of A Winter Amid the Ice, by Jules Verne</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and +most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions +whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms +of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online +at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you +are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the +country where you are located before using this eBook. +</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: A Winter Amid the Ice<br /> + and Other Thrilling Stories</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Jules Verne</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: May 1, 2009 [eBook #28657]<br /> +[Most recently updated: February 5, 2022]</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Character set encoding: UTF-8</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: Alan Winterrowd</div> +<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A WINTER AMID THE ICE ***</div> + +<h1>A Winter Amid the Ice</h1> + +<h3><small><small>AND</small></small><br/> +OTHER THRILLING STORIES</h3> + +<h2 class="no-break">by Jules Verne</h2> + +<h4>with sixty illustrations</h4> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<img src="images/image00.jpg" width="218" height="208" alt="[Illustration: ]" /> +</div> + +<h5>NEW YORK:<br/> +THE WORLD PUBLISHING HOUSE<br/> +21 ASTOR PLACE AND 142 EIGHTH ST.<br/> +1877</h5> + +<hr /> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>Contents</h2> + +<h3>DOCTOR OX’S EXPERIMENT</h3> + +<p> +<a href="#ox_01">CHAPTER I.</a><br/> +How it is useless to seek, even on the best maps, for the small town of +Quiquendone +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#ox_02">CHAPTER II.</a><br/> +In which the Burgomaster Van Tricasse and the Counsellor Niklausse consult +about the affairs of the town +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#ox_03">CHAPTER III.</a><br/> +In which the Commissary Passauf enters as noisily as unexpectedly +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#ox_04">CHAPTER IV.</a><br/> +In which Doctor Ox reveals himself as a physiologist of the first rank, and as +an audacious experimentalist +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#ox_05">CHAPTER V.</a><br/> +In which the burgomaster and the counsellor pay a visit to Doctor Ox, and what +follows +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#ox_06">CHAPTER VI.</a><br/> +In which Frantz Niklausse and Suzel Van Tricasse form certain projects for the +future +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#ox_07">CHAPTER VII.</a><br/> +In which the Andantes become Allegros, and the Allegros Vivaces +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#ox_08">CHAPTER VIII.</a><br/> +In which the ancient and solemn German waltz becomes a whirlwind +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#ox_09">CHAPTER IX.</a><br/> +In which Doctor Ox and Ygène, his assistant, say a few words +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#ox_10">CHAPTER X.</a><br/> +In which it will be seen that the epidemic invades the entire town, and what +effect it produces +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#ox_11">CHAPTER XI.</a><a href="#ox_11"></a><br/> +In which the Quiquendonians adopt a heroic resolution +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#ox_12">CHAPTER XII.</a><br/> +In which Ygène, the assistant, gives a reasonable piece of advice, which is +eagerly rejected by Doctor Ox +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#ox_13">CHAPTER XIII.</a><br/> +In which it is once more proved that by taking high ground all human +littlenesses may be overlooked +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#ox_14">CHAPTER XIV.</a><br/> +In which matters go so far that the inhabitants of Quiquendone, the reader, and +even the author, demand an immediate dénouement +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#ox_15">CHAPTER XV.</a><br/> +In which the dénouement takes place +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#ox_16">CHAPTER XVI.</a><br/> +In which the intelligent reader sees that he has guessed correctly, despite all +the author’s precautions +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#ox_17">CHAPTER XVII.</a><br/> +In which Doctor Ox’s theory is explained +</p> + +<h3>MASTER ZACHARIUS.</h3> + +<p> +<a href="#zach_01">CHAPTER I.</a><br/> +A winter night +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#zach_02">CHAPTER II.</a><br/> +The pride of science +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#zach_03">CHAPTER III.</a><br/> +A strange visit +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#zach_04">CHAPTER IV.</a><br/> +The Church of St. Pierre +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#zach_05">CHAPTER V.</a><br/> +The hour of death +</p> + +<h3><a href="#drama">A DRAMA IN THE AIR</a></h3> + +<h3>A WINTER AMID THE ICE</h3> + +<p> +<a href="#winter_01">CHAPTER I.</a><br/> +The black flag +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#winter_02">CHAPTER II.</a><br/> +Jean Cornbutte’s project +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#winter_03">CHAPTER III.</a><br/> +A ray of hope +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#winter_04">CHAPTER IV.</a><br/> +In the passes +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#winter_05">CHAPTER V.</a><br/> +Liverpool Island +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#winter_06">CHAPTER VI.</a><br/> +The quaking of the ice +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#winter_07">CHAPTER VII.</a><br/> +Settling for the winter +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#winter_08">CHAPTER VIII.</a><br/> +Plan of the explorations +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#winter_09">CHAPTER IX.</a><br/> +The house of snow +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#winter_10">CHAPTER X.</a><br/> +Buried alive +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#winter_11">CHAPTER XI.</a><br/> +A cloud of smoke +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#winter_12">CHAPTER XII.</a><br/> +The return to the ship +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#winter_13">CHAPTER XIII.</a><br/> +The two rivals +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#winter_14">CHAPTER XIV.</a><br/> +Distress +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#winter_15">CHAPTER XV.</a><br/> +The white bears +</p> + +<p> +<a href="#winter_16">CHAPTER XVI.</a><br/> +Conclusion +</p> + +<h3><a href="#ascent">ASCENT OF MONT BLANC</a></h3> + +<hr /> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<img src="images/image000.jpg" width="459" height="324" alt="[Illustration: ]" /> +</div> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.</h2> + +<table summary="" style=""> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#image01">She handed her father a pipe</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#image02">The worthy Madame Brigitte Van Tricasse had now her second husband</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#image03">“I have just come from Dr. Ox’s”</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#image04">“It is in the interests of science”</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#image05">“The workmen, whom we have had to choose in Quiquendone, are not very expeditious”</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#image06">The young girl took the line</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#image07">“Good-bye, Frantz,” said Suzel</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#image08">Fiovaranti had been achieving a brilliant success in “Les Huguenots”</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#image09">They hustle each other to get out</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#image10">It was no longer a waltz</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#image11">It required two persons to eat a strawberry</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#image12">“To Virgamen! to Virgamen!”</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#image13">“A burgomaster’s place is in the front rank”</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#image14">The two friends, arm in arm</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#image15">The whole army of Quiquendone fell to the earth</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#image16">He would raise the trap-door constructed in the floor of his workshop</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#image17">The young girl prayed</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#image18">“Thou wilt see that I have discovered the secrets of existence”.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#image19">“Father, what is the matter?”</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#image20">Then he resumed, in an ironical tone</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#image21">From morning till night discontented purchasers besieged the house</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#image22">This proud old man remained motionless</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#image23">“It is there—there!”</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#image24">“See this man,—he is Time”</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#image25">He was dead</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#image26">“Monsieur, I salute you”</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#image27">“Monsieur!” cried I, in a rage</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#image28">“He continued his observations for seven or eight hours with General Morlot”</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#image29">“The balloon became less and less inflated”</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#image30">“Zambecarri fell, and was killed!”</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#image31">The madman disappeared in space</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#image32">“Monsieur the curè,” said he, “stop a moment, if you please”</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#image33">André Vasling, the mate, apprised Jean Cornbutte of the dreadful event</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#image34">A soft voice said in his ear, “Have good courage, uncle”</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#image35">André Vasling showed himself more attentive than ever</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#image36">On the 12th September the sea consisted of one solid plain</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#image37">They found themselves in a most perilous position, for an icequake had occurred</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#image38">Map in hand, he clearly explained their situation</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#image39">The caravan set out</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#image40">“Thirty-two degrees below zero!”</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#image41">Despair and determination were struggling in his rough features for the mastery</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#image42">It was Louis Cornbutte</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#image43">Penellan advanced towards the Norwegians</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#image44">Marie begged Vasling on her knees to produce the lemons, but he did not reply</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#image45">Marie rose with cries of despair, and hurried to the bed of old Jean Cornbutte</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#image46">The bear, having descended from the mast, had fallen on the two men</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#image47">The old curè received Louis Cornbutte and Marie</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#image48">View of Mont Blanc from the Brevent</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#image49">View of Bossons glacier, near the Grands-Mulets</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#image50">Passage of the Bossons Glacier</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#image51">Crevasse and bridge</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#image52">View of the “Seracs”</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#image53">View of “Seracs”</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#image54">Passage of the “Junction”</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#image55">Hut at the Grands-Mulets</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#image56">View of Mont Blanc from Grands-Mulets</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#image57">Crossing the plateau</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#image58">Summit of Mont Blanc</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#image59">Grands-Mulets:—Party descending from the hut</a></td> +</tr> + +</table> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>DOCTOR OX’S EXPERIMENT.</h2> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="ox_01"></a>CHAPTER I.<br/> +HOW IT IS USELESS TO SEEK, EVEN ON THE BEST MAPS, FOR THE SMALL TOWN OF +QUIQUENDONE.</h2> + +<p> +If you try to find, on any map of Flanders, ancient or modern, the small town +of Quiquendone, probably you will not succeed. Is Quiquendone, then, one of +those towns which have disappeared? No. A town of the future? By no means. It +exists in spite of geographies, and has done so for some eight or nine hundred +years. It even numbers two thousand three hundred and ninety-three souls, +allowing one soul to each inhabitant. It is situated thirteen and a half +kilometres north-west of Oudenarde, and fifteen and a quarter kilometres +south-east of Bruges, in the heart of Flanders. The Vaar, a small tributary of +the Scheldt, passes beneath its three bridges, which are still covered with a +quaint mediæval roof, like that at Tournay. An old château is to be seen there, +the first stone of which was laid so long ago as 1197, by Count Baldwin, +afterwards Emperor of Constantinople; and there is a Town Hall, with Gothic +windows, crowned by a chaplet of battlements, and surrounded by a turreted +belfry, which rises three hundred and fifty-seven feet above the soil. Every +hour you may hear there a chime of five octaves, a veritable aerial piano, the +renown of which surpasses that of the famous chimes of Bruges. +Strangers—if any ever come to Quiquendone—do not quit the curious +old town until they have visited its “Stadtholder’s Hall”, +adorned by a full-length portrait of William of Nassau, by Brandon; the loft of +the Church of Saint Magloire, a masterpiece of sixteenth century architecture; +the cast-iron well in the spacious Place Saint Ernuph, the admirable +ornamentation of which is attributed to the artist-blacksmith, Quentin Metsys; +the tomb formerly erected to Mary of Burgundy, daughter of Charles the Bold, +who now reposes in the Church of Notre Dame at Bruges; and so on. The principal +industry of Quiquendone is the manufacture of whipped creams and barley-sugar +on a large scale. It has been governed by the Van Tricasses, from father to +son, for several centuries. And yet Quiquendone is not on the map of Flanders! +Have the geographers forgotten it, or is it an intentional omission? That I +cannot tell; but Quiquendone really exists; with its narrow streets, its +fortified walls, its Spanish-looking houses, its market, and its +burgomaster—so much so, that it has recently been the theatre of some +surprising phenomena, as extraordinary and incredible as they are true, which +are to be recounted in the present narration. +</p> + +<p> +Surely there is nothing to be said or thought against the Flemings of Western +Flanders. They are a well-to-do folk, wise, prudent, sociable, with even +tempers, hospitable, perhaps a little heavy in conversation as in mind; but +this does not explain why one of the most interesting towns of their district +has yet to appear on modern maps. +</p> + +<p> +This omission is certainly to be regretted. If only history, or in default of +history the chronicles, or in default of chronicles the traditions of the +country, made mention of Quiquendone! But no; neither atlases, guides, nor +itineraries speak of it. M. Joanne himself, that energetic hunter after small +towns, says not a word of it. It might be readily conceived that this silence +would injure the commerce, the industries, of the town. But let us hasten to +add that Quiquendone has neither industry nor commerce, and that it does very +well without them. Its barley-sugar and whipped cream are consumed on the spot; +none is exported. In short, the Quiquendonians have no need of anybody. Their +desires are limited, their existence is a modest one; they are calm, moderate, +phlegmatic—in a word, they are Flemings; such as are still to be met with +sometimes between the Scheldt and the North Sea. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="ox_02"></a>CHAPTER II.<br/> +IN WHICH THE BURGOMASTER VAN TRICASSE AND THE COUNSELLOR NIKLAUSSE CONSULT +ABOUT THE AFFAIRS OF THE TOWN.</h2> + +<p> +“You think so?” asked the burgomaster. +</p> + +<p> +“I—think so,” replied the counsellor, after some minutes of +silence. +</p> + +<p> +“You see, we must not act hastily,” resumed the burgomaster. +</p> + +<p> +“We have been talking over this grave matter for ten years,” +replied the Counsellor Niklausse, “and I confess to you, my worthy Van +Tricasse, that I cannot yet take it upon myself to come to a decision.” +</p> + +<p> +“I quite understand your hesitation,” said the burgomaster, who did +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 to decide upon nothing +without a more careful examination of the question.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is certain,” replied Niklausse, “that this post of civil +commissary is useless in so peaceful a town as Quiquendone.” +</p> + +<p> +“Our predecessor,” said Van Tricasse gravely, “our +predecessor never said, never would have dared to say, that anything is +certain. Every affirmation is subject to awkward qualifications.” +</p> + +<p> +The counsellor nodded his head slowly in token of assent; then he remained +silent for nearly half an hour. After this lapse of time, during which neither +the counsellor nor the burgomaster moved so much as a finger, Niklausse asked +Van Tricasse whether his predecessor—of some twenty years +before—had not thought of suppressing this office of civil commissary, +which each year cost the town of Quiquendone the sum of thirteen hundred and +seventy-five francs and some centimes. +</p> + +<p> +“I believe he did,” replied the burgomaster, carrying his hand with +majestic deliberation to his ample brow; “but the worthy man died without +having dared to make up his mind, either as to this or any other administrative +measure. He was a sage. Why should I not do as he did?” +</p> + +<p> +Counsellor Niklausse was incapable of originating any objection to the +burgomaster’s opinion. +</p> + +<p> +“The man who dies,” added Van Tricasse solemnly, “without +ever having decided upon anything during his life, has very nearly attained to +perfection.” +</p> + +<p> +This said, the burgomaster pressed a bell with the end of his little finger, +which gave forth a muffled sound, which seemed less a sound than a sigh. +Presently some light steps glided softly across the tile floor. A mouse would +not have made less noise, running over a thick carpet. The door of the room +opened, turning on its well-oiled hinges. A young girl, with long blonde +tresses, made her appearance. It was Suzel Van Tricasse, the +burgomaster’s only daughter. She handed her father a pipe, filled to the +brim, and a small copper brazier, spoke not a word, and disappeared at once, +making no more noise at her exit than at her entrance. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<a name="image01"></a> +<img src="images/image01.jpg" width="410" height="582" alt="[Illustration: ]" /> +<p class="caption">She handed her father a pipe +</p> +</div> + +<p> +The worthy burgomaster lighted his pipe, and was soon hidden in a cloud of +bluish smoke, leaving Counsellor Niklausse plunged in the most absorbing +thought. +</p> + +<p> +The room in which these two notable personages, charged with the government of +Quiquendone, were talking, was a parlour richly adorned with carvings in dark +wood. A lofty fireplace, in which an oak might have been burned or an ox +roasted, occupied the whole of one of the sides of the room; opposite to it was +a trellised window, the painted glass of which toned down the brightness of the +sunbeams. In an antique frame above the chimney-piece appeared the portrait of +some worthy man, attributed to Memling, which no doubt represented an ancestor +of the Van Tricasses, whose authentic genealogy dates back to the fourteenth +century, the period when the Flemings and Guy de Dampierre were engaged in wars +with the Emperor Rudolph of Hapsburgh. +</p> + +<p> +This parlour was the principal apartment of the burgomaster’s house, +which was one of the pleasantest in Quiquendone. Built in the Flemish style, +with all the abruptness, quaintness, and picturesqueness of Pointed +architecture, it was considered one of the most curious monuments of the town. +A Carthusian convent, or a deaf and dumb asylum, was not more silent than this +mansion. Noise had no existence there; people did not walk, but glided about in +it; they did not speak, they murmured. There was not, however, any lack of +women in the house, which, in addition to the burgomaster Van Tricasse himself, +sheltered his wife, Madame Brigitte Van Tricasse, his daughter, Suzel Van +Tricasse, and his domestic, Lotchè Janshéu. We may also mention the +burgomaster’s sister, Aunt Hermance, an elderly maiden who still bore the +nickname of Tatanémance, which her niece Suzel had given her when a child. But +in spite of all these elements of discord and noise, the burgomaster’s +house was as calm as a desert. +</p> + +<p> +The burgomaster was some fifty years old, neither fat nor lean, neither short +nor tall, neither rubicund nor pale, neither gay nor sad, neither contented nor +discontented, neither energetic nor dull, neither proud nor humble, neither +good nor bad, neither generous nor miserly, neither courageous nor cowardly, +neither too much nor too little of anything—a man notably moderate in all +respects, whose invariable slowness of motion, slightly hanging lower jaw, +prominent eyebrows, massive forehead, smooth as a copper plate and without a +wrinkle, would at once have betrayed to a physiognomist that the burgomaster +Van Tricasse was phlegm personified. Never, either from anger or passion, had +any emotion whatever hastened the beating of this man’s heart, or flushed +his face; never had his pupils contracted under the influence of any +irritation, however ephemeral. He invariably wore good clothes, neither too +large nor too small, which he never seemed to wear out. He was shod with large +square shoes with triple soles and silver buckles, which lasted so long that +his shoemaker was in despair. Upon his head he wore a large hat which dated +from the period when Flanders was separated from Holland, so that this +venerable masterpiece was at least forty years old. But what would you have? It +is the passions which wear out body as well as soul, the clothes as well as the +body; and our worthy burgomaster, apathetic, indolent, indifferent, was +passionate in nothing. He wore nothing out, not even himself, and he considered +himself the very man to administer the affairs of Quiquendone and its tranquil +population. +</p> + +<p> +The town, indeed, was not less calm than the Van Tricasse mansion. It was in +this peaceful dwelling that the burgomaster reckoned on attaining the utmost +limit of human existence, after having, however, seen the good Madame Brigitte +Van Tricasse, his wife, precede him to the tomb, where, surely, she would not +find a more profound repose than that she had enjoyed on earth for sixty years. +</p> + +<p> +This demands explanation. +</p> + +<p> +The Van Tricasse family might well call itself the “Jeannot +family.” This is why:— +</p> + +<p> +Every one knows that the knife of this typical personage is as celebrated as +its proprietor, and not less incapable of wearing out, thanks to the double +operation, incessantly repeated, of replacing the handle when it is worn out, +and the blade when it becomes worthless. A precisely similar operation had been +going on from time immemorial in the Van Tricasse family, to which Nature had +lent herself with more than usual complacency. From 1340 it had invariably +happened that a Van Tricasse, when left a widower, had remarried a Van Tricasse +younger than himself; who, becoming in turn a widow, had married again a Van +Tricasse younger than herself; and so on, without a break in the continuity, +from generation to generation. Each died in his or her turn with mechanical +regularity. Thus the worthy Madame Brigitte Van Tricasse had now her second +husband; and, unless she violated her every duty, would precede her +spouse—he being ten years younger than herself—to the other world, +to make room for a new Madame Van Tricasse. Upon this the burgomaster calmly +counted, that the family tradition might not be broken. Such was this mansion, +peaceful and silent, of which the doors never creaked, the windows never +rattled, the floors never groaned, the chimneys never roared, the weathercocks +never grated, the furniture never squeaked, the locks never clanked, and the +occupants never made more noise than their shadows. The god Harpocrates would +certainly have chosen it for the Temple of Silence. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<a name="image02"></a> +<img src="images/image02.jpg" width="406" height="588" alt="[Illustration: ]" /> +<p class="caption">the worthy Madame Brigitte Van Tricasse had now her second +husband +</p> +</div> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="ox_03"></a>CHAPTER III.<br/> +IN WHICH THE COMMISSARY PASSAUF ENTERS AS NOISILY AS UNEXPECTEDLY.</h2> + +<p> +When the interesting conversation which has been narrated began, it was a +quarter before three in the afternoon. It was at a quarter before four that Van +Tricasse lighted his enormous pipe, which could hold a quart of tobacco, and it +was at thirty-five minutes past five that he finished smoking it. +</p> + +<p> +All this time the two comrades did not exchange a single word. +</p> + +<p> +About six o’clock the counsellor, who had a habit of speaking in a very +summary manner, resumed in these words,— +</p> + +<p> +“So we decide—” +</p> + +<p> +“To decide nothing,” replied the burgomaster. +</p> + +<p> +“I think, on the whole, that you are right, Van Tricasse.” +</p> + +<p> +“I think so too, Niklausse. We will take steps with reference to the +civil commissary when we have more light on the subject— later on. There +is no need for a month yet.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nor even for a year,” replied Niklausse, unfolding his +pocket-handkerchief and calmly applying it to his nose. +</p> + +<p> +There was another silence of nearly a quarter of an hour. Nothing disturbed +this repeated pause in the conversation; not even the appearance of the +house-dog Lento, who, not less phlegmatic than his master, came to pay his +respects in the parlour. Noble dog!— a model for his race. Had he been +made of pasteboard, with wheels on his paws, he would not have made less noise +during his stay. +</p> + +<p> +Towards eight o’clock, after Lotchè had brought the antique lamp of +polished glass, the burgomaster said to the counsellor,— +</p> + +<p> +“We have no other urgent matter to consider?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, Van Tricasse; none that I know of.” +</p> + +<p> +“Have I not been told, though,” asked the burgomaster, “that +the tower of the Oudenarde gate is likely to tumble down?” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah!” replied the counsellor; “really, I should not be +astonished if it fell on some passer-by any day.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! before such a misfortune happens I hope we shall have come to a +decision on the subject of this tower.” +</p> + +<p> +“I hope so, Van Tricasse.” +</p> + +<p> +“There are more pressing matters to decide.” +</p> + +<p> +“No doubt; the question of the leather-market, for instance.” +</p> + +<p> +“What, is it still burning?” +</p> + +<p> +“Still burning, and has been for the last three weeks.” +</p> + +<p> +“Have we not decided in council to let it burn?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, Van Tricasse—on your motion.” +</p> + +<p> +“Was not that the surest and simplest way to deal with it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Without doubt.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, let us wait. Is that all?” +</p> + +<p> +“All,” replied the counsellor, scratching his head, as if to assure +himself that he had not forgotten anything important. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah!” exclaimed the burgomaster, “haven’t you also +heard something of an escape of water which threatens to inundate the low +quarter of Saint Jacques?” +</p> + +<p> +“I have. It is indeed unfortunate that this escape of water did not +happen above the leather-market! It would naturally have checked the fire, and +would thus have saved us a good deal of discussion.” +</p> + +<p> +“What can you expect, Niklausse? There is nothing so illogical as +accidents. They are bound by no rules, and we cannot profit by one, as we might +wish, to remedy another.” +</p> + +<p> +It took Van Tricasse’s companion some time to digest this fine +observation. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, but,” resumed the Counsellor Niklausse, after the lapse of +some moments, “we have not spoken of our great affair!” +</p> + +<p> +“What great affair? Have we, then, a great affair?” asked the +burgomaster. +</p> + +<p> +“No doubt. About lighting the town.” +</p> + +<p> +“O yes. If my memory serves me, you are referring to the lighting plan of +Doctor Ox.” +</p> + +<p> +“Precisely.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is going on, Niklausse,” replied the burgomaster. “They +are already laying the pipes, and the works are entirely completed.” +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps we have hurried a little in this matter,” said the +counsellor, shaking his head. +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps. But our excuse is, that Doctor Ox bears the whole expense of +his experiment. It will not cost us a sou.” +</p> + +<p> +“That, true enough, is our excuse. Moreover, we must advance with the +age. If the experiment succeeds, Quiquendone will be the first town in Flanders +to be lighted with the oxy—What is the gas called?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oxyhydric gas.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, oxyhydric gas, then.” +</p> + +<p> +At this moment the door opened, and Lotchè came in to tell the burgomaster that +his supper was ready. +</p> + +<p> +Counsellor Niklausse rose to take leave of Van Tricasse, whose appetite had +been stimulated by so many affairs discussed and decisions taken; and it was +agreed that the council of notables should be convened after a reasonably long +delay, to determine whether a decision should be provisionally arrived at with +reference to the really urgent matter of the Oudenarde gate. +</p> + +<p> +The two worthy administrators then directed their steps towards the +street-door, the one conducting the other. The counsellor, having reached the +last step, lighted a little lantern to guide him through the obscure streets of +Quiquendone, which Doctor Ox had not yet lighted. It was a dark October night, +and a light fog overshadowed the town. +</p> + +<p> +Niklausse’s preparations for departure consumed at least a quarter of an +hour; for, after having lighted his lantern, he had to put on his big cow-skin +socks and his sheep-skin gloves; then he put up the furred collar of his +overcoat, turned the brim of his felt hat down over his eyes, grasped his heavy +crow-beaked umbrella, and got ready to start. +</p> + +<p> +When Lotchè, however, who was lighting her master, was about to draw the bars +of the door, an unexpected noise arose outside. +</p> + +<p> +Yes! Strange as the thing seems, a noise—a real noise, such as the town +had certainly not heard since the taking of the donjon by the Spaniards in +1513—terrible noise, awoke the long-dormant echoes of the venerable Van +Tricasse mansion. +</p> + +<p> +Some one knocked heavily upon this door, hitherto virgin to brutal touch! +Redoubled knocks were given with some blunt implement, probably a knotty stick, +wielded by a vigorous arm. With the strokes were mingled cries and calls. These +words were distinctly heard:— +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur Van Tricasse! Monsieur the burgomaster! Open, open +quickly!” +</p> + +<p> +The burgomaster and the counsellor, absolutely astounded, looked at each other +speechless. +</p> + +<p> +This passed their comprehension. If the old culverin of the château, which had +not been used since 1385, had been let off in the parlour, the dwellers in the +Van Tricasse mansion would not have been more dumbfoundered. +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile, the blows and cries were redoubled. Lotchè, recovering her coolness, +had plucked up courage to speak. +</p> + +<p> +“Who is there?” +</p> + +<p> +“It is I! I! I!” +</p> + +<p> +“Who are you?” +</p> + +<p> +“The Commissary Passauf!” +</p> + +<p> +The Commissary Passauf! The very man whose office it had been contemplated to +suppress for ten years. What had happened, then? Could the Burgundians have +invaded Quiquendone, as they did in the fourteenth century? No event of less +importance could have so moved Commissary Passauf, who in no degree yielded the +palm to the burgomaster himself for calmness and phlegm. +</p> + +<p> +On a sign from Van Tricasse—for the worthy man could not have articulated +a syllable—the bar was pushed back and the door opened. +</p> + +<p> +Commissary Passauf flung himself into the antechamber. One would have thought +there was a hurricane. +</p> + +<p> +“What’s the matter, Monsieur the commissary?” asked Lotchè, a +brave woman, who did not lose her head under the most trying circumstances. +</p> + +<p> +“What’s the matter!” replied Passauf, whose big round eyes +expressed a genuine agitation. “The matter is that I have just come from +Doctor Ox’s, who has been holding a reception, and that +there—” +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<a name="image03"></a> +<img src="images/image03.jpg" width="406" height="585" alt="[Illustration: ]" /> +<p class="caption">I have just come from Doctor Ox’s +</p> +</div> + +<p> +“There?” +</p> + +<p> +“There I have witnessed such an altercation as—Monsieur the +burgomaster, they have been talking politics!” +</p> + +<p> +“Politics!” repeated Van Tricasse, running his fingers through his +wig. +</p> + +<p> +“Politics!” resumed Commissary Passauf, “which has not been +done for perhaps a hundred years at Quiquendone. Then the discussion got warm, +and the advocate, André Schut, and the doctor, Dominique Custos, became so +violent that it may be they will call each other out.” +</p> + +<p> +“Call each other out!” cried the counsellor. “A duel! A duel +at Quiquendone! And what did Advocate Schut and Doctor Gustos say?” +</p> + +<p> +“Just this: ‘Monsieur advocate,’ said the doctor to his +adversary, ‘you go too far, it seems to me, and you do not take +sufficient care to control your words!’” +</p> + +<p> +The Burgomaster Van Tricasse clasped his hands—the counsellor turned pale +and let his lantern fall—the commissary shook his head. That a phrase so +evidently irritating should be pronounced by two of the principal men in the +country! +</p> + +<p> +“This Doctor Custos,” muttered Van Tricasse, “is decidedly a +dangerous man—a hare-brained fellow! Come, gentlemen!” +</p> + +<p> +On this, Counsellor Niklausse and the commissary accompanied the burgomaster +into the parlour. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="ox_04"></a>CHAPTER IV.<br/> +IN WHICH DOCTOR OX REVEALS HIMSELF AS A PHYSIOLOGIST OF THE FIRST RANK, AND AS +AN AUDACIOUS EXPERIMENTALIST.</h2> + +<p> +Who, then, was this personage, known by the singular name of Doctor Ox? +</p> + +<p> +An original character for certain, but at the same time a bold savant, a +physiologist, whose works were known and highly estimated throughout learned +Europe, a happy rival of the Davys, the Daltons, the Bostocks, the Menzies, the +Godwins, the Vierordts—of all those noble minds who have placed +physiology among the highest of modern sciences. +</p> + +<p> +Doctor Ox was a man of medium size and height, aged—: but we cannot state +his age, any more than his nationality. Besides, it matters little; let it +suffice that he was a strange personage, impetuous and hot-blooded, a regular +oddity out of one of Hoffmann’s volumes, and one who contrasted amusingly +enough with the good people of Quiquendone. He had an imperturbable confidence +both in himself and in his doctrines. Always smiling, walking with head erect +and shoulders thrown back in a free and unconstrained manner, with a steady +gaze, large open nostrils, a vast mouth which inhaled the air in liberal +draughts, his appearance was far from unpleasing. He was full of animation, +well proportioned in all parts of his bodily mechanism, with quicksilver in his +veins, and a most elastic step. He could never stop still in one place, and +relieved himself with impetuous words and a superabundance of gesticulations. +</p> + +<p> +Was Doctor Ox rich, then, that he should undertake to light a whole town at his +expense? Probably, as he permitted himself to indulge in such +extravagance,—and this is the only answer we can give to this indiscreet +question. +</p> + +<p> +Doctor Ox had arrived at Quiquendone five months before, accompanied by his +assistant, who answered to the name of Gédéon Ygène; a tall, dried-up, thin +man, haughty, but not less vivacious than his master. +</p> + +<p> +And next, why had Doctor Ox made the proposition to light the town at his own +expense? Why had he, of all the Flemings, selected the peaceable +Quiquendonians, to endow their town with the benefits of an unheard-of system +of lighting? Did he not, under this pretext, design to make some great +physiological experiment by operating _in anima vili?_ In short, what was this +original personage about to attempt? We know not, as Doctor Ox had no confidant +except his assistant Ygène, who, moreover, obeyed him blindly. +</p> + +<p> +In appearance, at least, Doctor Ox had agreed to light the town, which had much +need of it, “especially at night,” as Commissary Passauf wittily +said. Works for producing a lighting gas had accordingly been established; the +gasometers were ready for use, and the main pipes, running beneath the street +pavements, would soon appear in the form of burners in the public edifices and +the private houses of certain friends of progress. Van Tricasse and Niklausse, +in their official capacity, and some other worthies, thought they ought to +allow this modern light to be introduced into their dwellings. +</p> + +<p> +If the reader has not forgotten, it was said, during the long conversation of +the counsellor and the burgomaster, that the lighting of the town was to be +achieved, not by the combustion of common carburetted hydrogen, produced by +distilling coal, but by the use of a more modern and twenty-fold more brilliant +gas, oxyhydric gas, produced by mixing hydrogen and oxygen. +</p> + +<p> +The doctor, who was an able chemist as well as an ingenious physiologist, knew +how to obtain this gas in great quantity and of good quality, not by using +manganate of soda, according to the method of M. Tessié du Motay, but by the +direct decomposition of slightly acidulated water, by means of a battery made +of new elements, invented by himself. Thus there were no costly materials, no +platinum, no retorts, no combustibles, no delicate machinery to produce the two +gases separately. An electric current was sent through large basins full of +water, and the liquid was decomposed into its two constituent parts, oxygen and +hydrogen. The oxygen passed off at one end; the hydrogen, of double the volume +of its late associate, at the other. As a necessary precaution, they were +collected in separate reservoirs, for their mixture would have produced a +frightful explosion if it had become ignited. Thence the pipes were to convey +them separately to the various burners, which would be so placed as to prevent +all chance of explosion. Thus a remarkably brilliant flame would be obtained, +whose light would rival the electric light, which, as everybody knows, is, +according to Cassellmann’s experiments, equal to that of eleven hundred +and seventy-one wax candles,—not one more, nor one less. +</p> + +<p> +It was certain that the town of Quiquendone would, by this liberal contrivance, +gain a splendid lighting; but Doctor Ox and his assistant took little account +of this, as will be seen in the sequel. +</p> + +<p> +The day after that on which Commissary Passauf had made his noisy entrance into +the burgomaster’s parlour, Gédéon Ygène and Doctor Ox were talking in the +laboratory which both occupied in common, on the ground-floor of the principal +building of the gas-works. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, Ygène, well,” cried the doctor, rubbing his hands. +“You saw, at my reception yesterday, the cool-bloodedness of these worthy +Quiquendonians. For animation they are midway between sponges and coral! You +saw them disputing and irritating each other by voice and gesture? They are +already metamorphosed, morally and physically! And this is only the beginning. +Wait till we treat them to a big dose!” +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed, master,” replied Ygène, scratching his sharp nose with the +end of his forefinger, “the experiment begins well, and if I had not +prudently closed the supply-tap, I know not what would have happened.” +</p> + +<p> +“You heard Schut, the advocate, and Custos, the doctor?” resumed +Doctor Ox. “The phrase was by no means ill-natured in itself, but, in the +mouth of a Quiquendonian, it is worth all the insults which the Homeric heroes +hurled at each other before drawing their swords, Ah, these Flemings! +You’ll see what we shall do some day!” +</p> + +<p> +“We shall make them ungrateful,” replied Ygène, in the tone of a +man who esteems the human race at its just worth. +</p> + +<p> +“Bah!” said the doctor; “what matters it whether they think +well or ill of us, so long as our experiment succeeds?” +</p> + +<p> +“Besides,” returned the assistant, smiling with a malicious +expression, “is it not to be feared that, in producing such an excitement +in their respiratory organs, we shall somewhat injure the lungs of these good +people of Quiquendone?” +</p> + +<p> +“So much the worse for them! It is in the interests of science. What +would you say if the dogs or frogs refused to lend themselves to the +experiments of vivisection?” +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<a name="image04"></a> +<img src="images/image04.jpg" width="418" height="584" alt="[Illustration: ]" /> +<p class="caption">It is in the interests of Science. +</p> +</div> + +<p> +It is probable that if the frogs and dogs were consulted, they would offer some +objection; but Doctor Ox imagined that he had stated an unanswerable argument, +for he heaved a great sigh of satisfaction. +</p> + +<p> +“After all, master, you are right,” replied Ygène, as if quite +convinced. “We could not have hit upon better subjects than these people +of Quiquendone for our experiment.” +</p> + +<p> +“We—could—not,” said the doctor, slowly articulating +each word. +</p> + +<p> +“Have you felt the pulse of any of them?” +</p> + +<p> +“Some hundreds.” +</p> + +<p> +“And what is the average pulsation you found?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not fifty per minute. See—this is a town where there has not been +the shadow of a discussion for a century, where the carmen don’t swear, +where the coachmen don’t insult each other, where horses don’t run +away, where the dogs don’t bite, where the cats don’t +scratch,—a town where the police-court has nothing to do from one +year’s end to another,—a town where people do not grow enthusiastic +about anything, either about art or business,—a town where the gendarmes +are a sort of myth, and in which an indictment has not been drawn up for a +hundred years,—a town, in short, where for three centuries nobody has +struck a blow with his 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.” +</p> + +<p> +“Perfectly! perfectly!” cried the enthusiastic assistant; +“and have you analyzed the air of this town, master?” +</p> + +<p> +“I have not failed to do so. Seventy-nine parts of azote and twenty-one +of oxygen, carbonic acid and steam in a variable quantity. These are the +ordinary proportions.” +</p> + +<p> +“Good, doctor, good!” replied Ygène. “The experiment will be +made on a large scale, and will be decisive.” +</p> + +<p> +“And if it is decisive,” added Doctor Ox triumphantly, “we +shall reform the world!” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="ox_05"></a>CHAPTER V.<br/> +IN WHICH THE BURGOMASTER AND THE COUNSELLOR PAY A VISIT TO DOCTOR OX, AND +WHAT FOLLOWS.</h2> + +<p> +The Counsellor Niklausse and the Burgomaster Van Tricasse at last knew what it +was to have an agitated night. The grave event which had taken place at Doctor +Ox’s house actually kept them awake. What consequences was this affair +destined to bring about? They could not imagine. Would it be necessary for them +to come to a decision? Would the municipal authority, whom they represented, be +compelled to interfere? Would they be obliged to order arrests to be made, that +so great a scandal should not be repeated? All these doubts could not but +trouble these soft natures; and on that evening, before separating, the two +notables had “decided” to see each other the next day. +</p> + +<p> +On the next morning, then, before dinner, the Burgomaster Van Tricasse +proceeded in person to the Counsellor Niklausse’s house. He found his +friend more calm. He himself had recovered his equanimity. +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing new?” asked Van Tricasse. +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing new since yesterday,” replied Niklausse. +</p> + +<p> +“And the doctor, Dominique Custos?” +</p> + +<p> +“I have not heard anything, either of him or of the advocate, André +Schut.” +</p> + +<p> +After an hour’s conversation, which consisted of three remarks which it +is needless to repeat, the counsellor and the burgomaster had resolved to pay a +visit to Doctor Ox, so as to draw from him, without seeming to do so, some +details of the affair. +</p> + +<p> +Contrary to all their habits, after coming to this decision the two notables +set about putting it into execution forthwith. They left the house and directed +their steps towards Doctor Ox’s laboratory, which was situated outside +the town, near the Oudenarde gate—the gate whose tower threatened to fall +in ruins. +</p> + +<p> +They did not take each other’s arms, but walked side by side, with a slow +and solemn step, which took them forward but thirteen inches per second. This +was, indeed, the ordinary gait of the Quiquendonians, who had never, within the +memory of man, seen any one run across the streets of their town. +</p> + +<p> +From time to time the two notables would stop at some calm and tranquil +crossway, or at the end of a quiet street, to salute the passers-by. +</p> + +<p> +“Good morning, Monsieur the burgomaster,” said one. +</p> + +<p> +“Good morning, my friend,” responded Van Tricasse. +</p> + +<p> +“Anything new, Monsieur the counsellor?” asked another. +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing new,” answered Niklausse. +</p> + +<p> +But by certain agitated motions and questioning looks, it was evident that the +altercation of the evening before was known throughout the town. Observing the +direction taken by Van Tricasse, the most obtuse Quiquendonians guessed that +the burgomaster was on his way to take some important step. The Custos and +Schut affair was talked of everywhere, but the people had not yet come to the +point of taking the part of one or the other. The Advocate Schut, having never +had occasion to plead in a 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 his fellow-doctors, +cured all the illnesses of his patients, except those of which they +died—a habit unhappily acquired by all the members of all the faculties +in whatever country they may practise. +</p> + +<p> +On reaching the Oudenarde gate, the counsellor and the burgomaster prudently +made a short detour, so as not to pass within reach of the tower, in case it +should fall; then they turned and looked at it attentively. +</p> + +<p> +“I think that it will fall,” said Van Tricasse. +</p> + +<p> +“I think so too,” replied Niklausse. +</p> + +<p> +“Unless it is propped up,” added Van Tricasse. “But must it +be propped up? That is the question.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is—in fact—the question.” +</p> + +<p> +Some moments after, they reached the door of the gasworks. +</p> + +<p> +“Can we see Doctor Ox?” they asked. +</p> + +<p> +Doctor Ox could always be seen by the first authorities of the town, and they +were at once introduced into the celebrated physiologist’s study. +</p> + +<p> +Perhaps the two notables waited for the doctor at least an hour; at least it is +reasonable to suppose so, as the burgomaster—a thing that had never +before happened in his life—betrayed a certain amount of impatience, from +which his companion was not exempt. +</p> + +<p> +Doctor Ox came in at last, and began to excuse himself for having kept them +waiting; but he had to approve a plan for the gasometer, rectify some of the +machinery—But everything was going on well! The pipes intended for the +oxygen were already laid. In a few months the town would be splendidly lighted. +The two notables might even now see the orifices of the pipes which were laid +on in the laboratory. +</p> + +<p> +Then the doctor begged to know to what he was indebted for the honour of this +visit. +</p> + +<p> +“Only to see you, doctor; to see you,” replied Van Tricasse. +“It is long since we have had the pleasure. We go abroad but little in +our good town of Quiquendone. We count our steps and measure our walks. We are +happy when nothing disturbs the uniformity of our habits.” +</p> + +<p> +Niklausse looked at his friend. His friend had never said so much at +once—at least, without taking time, and giving long intervals between his +sentences. It seemed to him that Van Tricasse expressed himself with a certain +volubility, which was by no means common with him. Niklausse himself +experienced a kind of irresistible desire to talk. +</p> + +<p> +As for Doctor Ox, he looked at the burgomaster with sly attention. +</p> + +<p> +Van Tricasse, who never argued until he had snugly ensconced himself in a +spacious armchair, had risen to his feet. I know not what nervous excitement, +quite foreign to his temperament, had taken possession of him. He did not +gesticulate as yet, but this could not be far off. As for the counsellor, he +rubbed his legs, and breathed with slow and long gasps. His look became +animated little by little, and he had “decided” to support at all +hazards, if need be, his trusty friend the burgomaster. +</p> + +<p> +Van Tricasse got up and took several steps; then he came back, and stood facing +the doctor. +</p> + +<p> +“And in how many months,” he asked in a somewhat emphatic tome, +“do you say that your work will be finished?” +</p> + +<p> +“In three or four months, Monsieur the burgomaster,” replied Doctor +Ox. +</p> + +<p> +“Three or four months,—it’s a very long time!” said Van +Tricasse. +</p> + +<p> +“Altogether too long!” added Niklausse, who, not being able to keep +his seat, rose also. +</p> + +<p> +“This lapse of time is necessary to complete our work,” returned +Doctor Ox. “The workmen, whom we have had to choose in Quiquendone, are +not very expeditious.” +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<a name="image05"></a> +<img src="images/image05.jpg" width="406" height="574" alt="[Illustration: ]" /> +<p class="caption">“The workmen, whom we have had to choose in +Quiquendone, are not very expeditious.” +</p> +</div> + +<p> +“How not expeditious?” cried the burgomaster, who seemed to take +the remark as personally offensive. +</p> + +<p> +“No, Monsieur Van Tricasse,” replied Doctor Ox obstinately. +“A French workman would do in a day what it takes ten of your workmen to +do; you know, they are regular Flemings!” +</p> + +<p> +“Flemings!” cried the counsellor, whose fingers closed together. +“In what sense, sir, do you use that word?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, in the amiable sense in which everybody uses it,” replied +Doctor Ox, smiling. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, but doctor,” said the burgomaster, pacing up and down the +room, “I don’t like these insinuations. The workmen of Quiquendone +are as efficient as those of any other town in the world, you must know; and we +shall go neither to Paris nor London for our models! As for your project, I beg +you to hasten its execution. Our streets have been unpaved for the putting down +of your conduit-pipes, and it is a hindrance to traffic. Our trade will begin +to suffer, and I, being the responsible authority, do not propose to incur +reproaches which will be but too just.” +</p> + +<p> +Worthy burgomaster! He spoke of trade, of traffic, and the wonder was that +those words, to which he was quite unaccustomed, did not scorch his lips. What +could be passing in his mind? +</p> + +<p> +“Besides,” added Niklausse, “the town cannot be deprived of +light much longer.” +</p> + +<p> +“But,” urged Doctor Ox, “a town which has been un-lighted for +eight or nine hundred years—” +</p> + +<p> +“All the more necessary is it,” replied the burgomaster, +emphasizing his words. “Times alter, manners alter! The world advances, +and we do not wish to remain behind. We desire our streets to be lighted within +a month, or you must pay a large indemnity for each day of delay; and what +would happen if, amid the darkness, some affray should take place?” +</p> + +<p> +“No doubt,” cried Niklausse. “It requires but a spark to +inflame a Fleming! Fleming! Flame!” +</p> + +<p> +“Apropos of this,” said the burgomaster, interrupting his friend, +“Commissary Passauf, our chief of police, reports to us that a discussion +took place in your drawing-room last evening, Doctor Ox. Was he wrong in +declaring that it was a political discussion?” +</p> + +<p> +“By no means, Monsieur the burgomaster,” replied Doctor Ox, who +with difficulty repressed a sigh of satisfaction. +</p> + +<p> +“So an altercation did take place between Dominique Gustos and André +Schut?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, counsellor; but the words which passed were not of grave +import.” +</p> + +<p> +“Not of grave import!” cried the burgomaster. “Not of grave +import, when one man tells another that he does not measure the effect of his +words! But of what stuff are you made, monsieur? Do you not know that in +Quiquendone nothing more is needed to bring about extremely disastrous results? +But monsieur, if you, or any one else, presume to speak thus to +me—” +</p> + +<p> +“Or to me,” added Niklausse. +</p> + +<p> +As they pronounced these words with a menacing air, the two notables, with +folded arms and bristling air, confronted Doctor Ox, ready to do him some +violence, if by a gesture, or even the expression of his eye, he manifested any +intention of contradicting them. +</p> + +<p> +But the doctor did not budge. +</p> + +<p> +“At all events, monsieur,” resumed the burgomaster, “I +propose to hold you responsible for what passes in your house. I am bound to +insure the tranquillity of this town, and I do not wish it to be disturbed. The +events of last evening must not be repeated, or I shall do my duty, sir! Do you +hear? Then reply, sir.” +</p> + +<p> +The burgomaster, as he spoke, under the influence of extraordinary excitement, +elevated his voice to the pitch of anger. He was furious, the worthy Van +Tricasse, and might certainly be heard outside. At last, beside himself, and +seeing that Doctor Ox did not reply to his challenge, “Come, +Niklausse,” said he. +</p> + +<p> +And, slamming the door with a violence which shook the house, the burgomaster +drew his friend after him. +</p> + +<p> +Little by little, when they had taken twenty steps on their road, the worthy +notables grew more calm. Their pace slackened, their gait became less feverish. +The flush on their faces faded away; from being crimson, they became rosy. A +quarter of an hour after quitting the gasworks, Van Tricasse said softly to +Niklausse, “An amiable man, Doctor Ox! It is always a pleasure to see +him!” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="ox_06"></a>CHAPTER VI.<br/> +IN WHICH FRANTZ NIKLAUSSE AND SUZEL VAN TRICASSE FORM CERTAIN PROJECTS FOR +THE FUTURE.</h2> + +<p> +Our readers know that the burgomaster had a daughter, Suzel But, shrewd as they +may be, they cannot have divined that the counsellor Niklausse had a son, +Frantz; and had they divined this, nothing could have led them to imagine that +Frantz was the betrothed lover of Suzel. We will add that these young people +were made for each other, and that they loved each other, as folks did love at +Quiquendone. +</p> + +<p> +It must not be thought that young hearts did not beat in this exceptional +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 engaging in these terrible bonds, wished to study each other; +and these studies lasted at least ten years, as at college. It was rare that +any one was “accepted” before this lapse of time. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, ten years! The courtships last ten years! And is it, after all, too long, +when the being bound for life is in consideration? One studies ten years to +become an engineer or physician, an advocate or attorney, and should less time +be spent in acquiring the knowledge to make a good husband? Is it not +reasonable? and, whether due to temperament or reason with them, the +Quiquendonians seem to us to be in the right in thus prolonging their +courtship. When marriages in other more lively and excitable cities are seen +taking place within a few months, we must shrug our shoulders, and hasten to +send our boys to the schools and our daughters to the <i>pensions</i> of +Quiquendone. +</p> + +<p> +For half a century but a single marriage was known to have taken place after +the lapse of two years only of courtship, and that turned out badly! +</p> + +<p> +Frantz Niklausse, then, loved Suzel Van Tricasse, but quietly, as a man would +love when he has ten years before him in which to obtain the beloved object. +Once every week, at an hour agreed upon, Frantz went to fetch Suzel, and took a +walk with her along the banks of the Vaar. He took good care to carry his +fishing-tackle, and Suzel never forgot her canvas, on which her pretty hands +embroidered the most unlikely flowers. +</p> + +<p> +Frantz was a young man of twenty-two, whose cheeks betrayed a soft, peachy +down, and whose voice had scarcely a compass of one octave. +</p> + +<p> +As for Suzel, she was blonde and rosy. She was seventeen, and did not dislike +fishing. A singular occupation this, however, which forces you to struggle +craftily with a barbel. But Frantz loved it; the pastime was congenial to his +temperament. As patient as possible, content to follow with his rather dreamy +eye the cork which bobbed on the top of the water, he knew how to wait; and +when, after sitting for six hours, a modest barbel, taking pity on him, +consented at last to be caught, he was happy—but he knew how to control +his emotion. +</p> + +<p> +On this day the two lovers—one might say, the two betrothed— were +seated upon the verdant bank. The limpid Vaar murmured a few feet below them. +Suzel quietly drew her needle across the canvas. Frantz automatically carried +his line from left to right, then permitted it to descend the current from +right to left. The fish made capricious rings in the water, which crossed each +other around the cork, while the hook hung useless near the bottom. +</p> + +<p> +From time to time Frantz would say, without raising his eyes,— +</p> + +<p> +“I think I have a bite, Suzel.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you think so, Frantz?” replied Suzel, who, abandoning her work +for an instant, followed her lover’s line with earnest eye. +</p> + +<p> +“N-no,” resumed Frantz; “I thought I felt a little twitch; I +was mistaken.” +</p> + +<p> +“You <i>will</i> have a bite, Frantz,” replied Suzel, in her pure, +soft voice. “But do not forget to strike at the right moment. You are +always a few seconds too late, and the barbel takes advantage to escape.” +</p> + +<p> +“Would you like to take my line, Suzel?” +</p> + +<p> +“Willingly, Frantz.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then give me your canvas. We shall see whether I am more adroit with the +needle than with the hook.” +</p> + +<p> +And the young girl took the line with trembling hand, while her swain plied the +needle across the stitches of the embroidery. For hours together they thus +exchanged soft words, and their hearts palpitated when the cork bobbed on the +water. Ah, could they ever forget those charming hours, during which, seated +side by side, they listened to the murmurs of the river? +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<a name="image06"></a> +<img src="images/image06.jpg" width="406" height="580" alt="[Illustration: ]" /> +<p class="caption">the young girl took the line +</p> +</div> + +<p> +The sun was fast approaching the western horizon, and despite the combined +skill of Suzel and Frantz, there had not been a bite. The barbels had not shown +themselves complacent, and seemed to scoff at the two young people, who were +too just to bear them malice. +</p> + +<p> +“We shall be more lucky another time, Frantz,” said Suzel, as the +young angler put up his still virgin hook. +</p> + +<p> +“Let us hope so,” replied Frantz. +</p> + +<p> +Then walking side by side, they turned their steps towards the house, without +exchanging a word, as mute as their shadows which stretched out before them. +Suzel became very, very tall under the oblique rays of the setting sun. Frantz +appeared very, very thin, like the long rod which he held in his hand. +</p> + +<p> +They reached the burgomaster’s house. Green tufts of grass bordered the +shining pavement, and no one would have thought of tearing them away, for they +deadened the noise made by the passers-by. +</p> + +<p> +As they were about to open the door, Frantz thought it his duty to say to +Suzel,— +</p> + +<p> +“You know, Suzel, the great day is approaching?” +</p> + +<p> +“It is indeed, Frantz,” replied the young girl, with downcast eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said Frantz, “in five or six years—” +</p> + +<p> +“Good-bye, Frantz,” said Suzel. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<a name="image07"></a> +<img src="images/image07.jpg" width="400" height="576" alt="[Illustration: ]" /> +<p class="caption">“Good-bye, Frantz,” said Suzel. +</p> +</div> + +<p> +“Good-bye, Suzel,” replied Frantz. +</p> + +<p> +And, after the door had been closed, the young man resumed the way to his +father’s house with a calm and equal pace. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="ox_07"></a>CHAPTER VII.<br/> +IN WHICH THE ANDANTES BECOME ALLEGROS, AND THE ALLEGROS VIVACES.</h2> + +<p> +The agitation caused by the Schut and Custos affair had subsided. The affair +led to no serious consequences. It appeared likely that Quiquendone would +return to its habitual apathy, which that unexpected event had for a moment +disturbed. +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile, the laying of the pipes destined to conduct the oxyhydric gas into +the principal edifices of the town was proceeding rapidly. The main pipes and +branches gradually crept beneath the pavements. But the burners were still +wanting; for, as it required delicate skill to make them, it was necessary that +they should be fabricated abroad. Doctor Ox was here, there, and everywhere; +neither he nor Ygène, his assistant, lost a moment, but they urged on the +workmen, completed the delicate mechanism of the gasometer, fed day and night +the immense piles which decomposed the water under the influence of a powerful +electric current. Yes, the doctor was already making his gas, though the +pipe-laying was not yet done; a fact which, between ourselves, might have +seemed a little singular. But before long,—at least there was reason to +hope so,—before long Doctor Ox would inaugurate the splendours of his +invention in the theatre of the town. +</p> + +<p> +For Quiquendone possessed a theatre—a really fine edifice, in +truth—the interior and exterior arrangement of which combined every 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, a specimen of all sorts, half a Parthenon, half +a Parisian Grand Café. Nor was this surprising, the theatre having been +commenced under the burgomaster Ludwig Van Tricasse, in 1175, and only finished +in 1837, under the burgomaster Natalis Van Tricasse. It had required seven +hundred years to build it, and it had, been successively adapted to the +architectural style in vogue in each period. But for all that it was an +imposing structure; the Roman pillars and Byzantine arches of which would +appear to advantage lit up by the oxyhydric gas. +</p> + +<p> +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 have recognized their own works, so entirely +changed were the “movements” of the music. +</p> + +<p> +In short, as nothing was done in a hurry at Quiquendone, the dramatic pieces +had to be performed in harmony with the peculiar temperament of the +Quiquendonians. Though the doors of the theatre were regularly thrown open at +four o’clock and closed again at ten, it had never been known that more +than two acts were played during the six intervening hours. “Robert le +Diable,” “Les Huguenots,” or “Guillaume Tell” +usually took up three evenings, so slow was the execution of these +masterpieces. The <i>vivaces</i>, at the theatre of Quiquendone, lagged like +real <i>adagios</i>. The <i>allegros</i> were “long-drawn out” +indeed. The demisemiquavers were scarcely equal to the ordinary semibreves of +other countries. The most rapid runs, performed according to Quiquendonian +taste, had the solemn march of a chant. The gayest shakes were languishing and +measured, that they might not shock the ears of the <i>dilettanti</i>. To give +an example, the rapid air sung by Figaro, on his entrance in the first act of +“Le Barbiér de Séville,” lasted fifty-eight minutes—when the +actor was particularly enthusiastic. +</p> + +<p> +Artists from abroad, as might be supposed, were forced to conform themselves 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 <i>allegros</i>. +</p> + +<p> +But what applause greeted these artists, who enchanted without ever wearying +the audiences of Quiquendone! All hands clapped one after another at tolerably +long intervals, which the papers characterized as “frantic +applause;” and sometimes nothing but the lavish prodigality with which +mortar and stone had been used in the twelfth century saved the roof of the +hall from falling in. +</p> + +<p> +Besides, the theatre had only one performance a week, that these enthusiastic +Flemish folk might not be too much excited; and this enabled the actors to +study their parts more thoroughly, and the spectators to digest more at leisure +the beauties of the masterpieces brought out. +</p> + +<p> +Such had long been the drama at Quiquendone. Foreign artists were in 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 inveterate customs, when, a fortnight after the Schut-Custos +affair, an unlooked-for incident occurred to throw the population into fresh +agitation. +</p> + +<p> +It was on a Saturday, an opera day. It was not yet intended, as may well be +supposed, to inaugurate the new illumination. No; the pipes had reached the +hall, but, for reasons indicated above, the burners had not yet been placed, +and the wax-candles still shed their soft light upon the numerous spectators +who filled the theatre. 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 +been formed, which extended as far as the end of the Place Saint Ernuph, in +front of the shop of Josse Lietrinck the apothecary. This eagerness was +significant of an unusually attractive performance. +</p> + +<p> +“Are you going to the theatre this evening?” inquired the +counsellor the same morning of the burgomaster. +</p> + +<p> +“I shall not fail to do so,” returned Van Tricasse, “and I +shall take Madame Van Tricasse, as well as our daughter Suzel and our dear +Tatanémance, who all dote on good music.” +</p> + +<p> +“Mademoiselle Suzel is going then?” +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly, Niklausse.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then my son Frantz will be one of the first to arrive,” said +Niklausse. +</p> + +<p> +“A spirited boy, Niklausse,” replied the burgomaster sententiously; +“but hot-headed! He will require watching!” +</p> + +<p> +“He loves, Van Tricasse,—he loves your charming Suzel.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, Niklausse, he shall marry her. Now that we have agreed on this +marriage, what more can he desire?” +</p> + +<p> +“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 his +ticket at the box-office.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, vivacious and ardent youth!” replied the burgomaster, +recalling his own past. “We have also been thus, my worthy counsellor! We +have loved—we too! We have danced attendance in our day! Till to-night, +then, till to-night! By-the-bye, do you know this Fiovaranti is a great artist? +And what a welcome he has received among us! It will be long before he will +forget the applause of Quiquendone!” +</p> + +<p> +The tenor Fiovaranti was, indeed, going to sing; Fiovaranti, who, by his +talents as a virtuoso, his perfect method, his melodious voice, provoked a real +enthusiasm among the lovers of music in the town. +</p> + +<p> +For three weeks Fiovaranti had been achieving a brilliant success in “Les +Huguenots.” The first act, interpreted according to the taste of the +Quiquendonians, had occupied an entire evening of the first week of the +month.—Another evening in the second week, prolonged by infinite +<i>andantes</i>, had elicited for the celebrated singer a real ovation. His +success had been still more marked in the third act of Meyerbeer’s +masterpiece. But now Fiovaranti was to appear in the fourth act, which was to +be performed on this evening before an impatient public. Ah, the duet between +Raoul and Valentine, that pathetic love-song for two voices, that strain so +full of <i>crescendos</i>, <i>stringendos</i>, and <i>piu +crescendos</i>—all this, sung slowly, compendiously, interminably! Ah, +how delightful! +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<a name="image08"></a> +<img src="images/image08.jpg" width="429" height="600" alt="[Illustration: ]" /> +<p class="caption">Fiovaranti had been achieving a brilliant success in +“Les Huguenots.” +</p> +</div> + +<p> +At four o’clock the hall was full. The boxes, the orchestra, the pit, +were overflowing. In the front stalls sat the Burgomaster Van Tricasse, +Mademoiselle Van Tricasse, Madame Van Tricasse, and the amiable Tatanémance in +a green bonnet; not far off were the Counsellor Niklausse and his family, not +forgetting the amorous Frantz. The families of Custos the doctor, of Schut the +advocate, of Honoré Syntax the chief judge, of Norbet Sontman the insurance +director, of the banker Collaert, gone mad on German music, and himself +somewhat of an amateur, and the teacher Rupp, and the master of the academy, +Jerome Resh, and the civil commissary, and so many other notabilities of the +town that they could not be enumerated here without wearying the reader’s +patience, were visible in different parts of the hall. +</p> + +<p> +It was customary for the Quiquendonians, while awaiting the rise of the +curtain, to sit silent, some reading the paper, others whispering low to each +other, some making their way to their seats slowly and noiselessly, others +casting timid looks towards the bewitching beauties in the galleries. +</p> + +<p> +But on this evening a looker-on might have observed that, even before the +curtain rose, there was unusual animation among the audience. People were +restless who were never known to be restless before. The ladies’ fans +fluttered with abnormal rapidity. All appeared to be inhaling air of +exceptional stimulating power. Every one breathed more freely. The eyes of some +became unwontedly bright, and seemed to give forth a light equal to that of the +candles, which themselves certainly threw a more brilliant light over the hall. +It was evident that people saw more clearly, though the number of candles had +not been increased. Ah, if Doctor Ox’s experiment were being tried! But +it was not being tried, as yet. +</p> + +<p> +The musicians of the orchestra at last took their places. The first violin had +gone to the stand to give a modest la to his colleagues. The stringed +instruments, the wind instruments, the drums and cymbals, were in accord. The +conductor only waited the sound of the bell to beat the first bar. +</p> + +<p> +The bell sounds. The fourth act begins. The <i>allegro appassionato</i> of the +inter-act is played as usual, with a majestic deliberation which would have +made Meyerbeer frantic, and all the majesty of which was appreciated by the +Quiquendonian dilettanti. +</p> + +<p> +But soon the leader perceived that he was no longer master of his musicians. He +found it difficult to restrain them, though usually so obedient and calm. The +wind instruments betrayed a tendency to hasten the movements, and it was +necessary to hold them back with a firm hand, for they would otherwise outstrip +the stringed instruments; which, from a musical point of view, would have been +disastrous. The bassoon himself, the son of Josse Lietrinck the apothecary, a +well-bred young man, seemed to lose his self-control. +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile Valentine has begun her recitative, “I am alone,” etc.; +but she hurries it. +</p> + +<p> +The leader and all his musicians, perhaps unconsciously, follow her in her +<i>cantabile</i>, which should be taken deliberately, like a 12/8 as it is. +When Raoul appears at the door at the bottom of the stage, between the moment +when Valentine goes to him and that when she conceals herself in the chamber at +the side, a quarter of an hour does not elapse; while formerly, according to +the traditions of the Quiquendone theatre, this recitative of thirty-seven bars +was wont to last just thirty-seven minutes. +</p> + +<p> +Saint Bris, Nevers, Cavannes, and the Catholic nobles have appeared, somewhat +prematurely, perhaps, upon the scene. The composer has marked <i>allergo +pomposo</i> on the score. The orchestra and the lords proceed <i>allegro</i> +indeed, but not at all <i>pomposo</i>, and at the chorus, in the famous scene +of the “benediction of the poniards,” they no longer keep to the +enjoined <i>allegro</i>. Singers and musicians broke away impetuously. The +leader does not even attempt to restrain them. Nor do the public protest; on +the contrary, the people find themselves carried away, and see that they are +involved in the movement, and that the movement responds to the impulses of +their souls. +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“Will you, with me, deliver the land,<br/> +From troubles increasing, an impious band?” +</p> + +<p> +They promise, they swear. Nevers has scarcely time to protest, and to sing that +“among his ancestors were many soldiers, but never an assassin.” He +is arrested. The police and the aldermen rush forward and rapidly swear +“to strike all at once.” Saint Bris shouts the recitative which +summons the Catholics to vengeance. The three monks, with white scarfs, hasten +in by the door at the back of Nevers’s room, without making any account +of the stage directions, which enjoin on them to advance slowly. Already all +the artists have drawn sword or poniard, which the three monks bless in a +trice. The soprani tenors, bassos, attack the <i>allegro furioso</i> with cries +of rage, and of a dramatic 6/8 time they make it 6/8 quadrille time. Then they +rush out, bellowing,— +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“At midnight,<br/> +Noiselessly,<br/> +God wills it,<br/> +Yes,<br/> +At midnight.” +</p> + +<p> +At this moment the audience start to their feet. Everybody is agitated—in +the boxes, the pit, the galleries. It seems as if the spectators are about to +rush upon the stage, the Burgomaster Van Tricasse at their head, to join with +the conspirators and annihilate the Huguenots, whose religious opinions, +however, they share. They applaud, call before the curtain, make loud +acclamations! Tatanémance grasps her bonnet with feverish hand. The candles +throw out a lurid glow of light. +</p> + +<p> +Raoul, instead of slowly raising the curtain, tears it apart with a superb +gesture and finds himself confronting Valentine. +</p> + +<p> +At last! It is the grand duet, and it starts off <i>allegro vivace</i>. Raoul +does not wait for Valentine’s pleading, and Valentine does not wait for +Raoul’s responses. +</p> + +<p> +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 <i>andante amoroso</i>, “Thou hast +said it, aye, thou lovest me,” becomes a real <i>vivace furioso</i>, and +the violoncello ceases to imitate the inflections of the singer’s voice, +as indicated in the composer’s score. In vain Raoul cries, “Speak +on, and prolong the ineffable slumber of my soul.” Valentine cannot +“prolong.” It is evident that an unaccustomed fire devours her. Her +<i>b’s</i> and her <i>c’s</i> above the stave were dreadfully +shrill. He struggles, he gesticulates, he is all in a glow. +</p> + +<p> +The alarum is heard; the bell resounds; but what a panting bell! The +bell-ringer has evidently lost his self-control. It is a frightful tocsin, +which violently struggles against the fury of the orchestra. +</p> + +<p> +Finally the air which ends this magnificent act, beginning, “No more +love, no more intoxication, O the remorse that oppresses me!” which the +composer marks <i>allegro con moto</i>, becomes a wild <i>prestissimo</i>. You +would say an express-train was whirling by. The alarum resounds again. +Valentine falls fainting. Raoul precipitates himself from the window. +</p> + +<p> +It was high time. The orchestra, really intoxicated, could not have gone on. +The leader’s baton is no longer anything but a broken stick on the +prompter’s box. The violin strings are broken, and their necks twisted. +In his fury the drummer has burst his drum. The counter-bassist has perched on +the top of his musical monster. The first clarionet has swallowed the reed of +his instrument, and the second hautboy is chewing his reed keys. The groove of +the trombone is strained, and finally the unhappy cornist cannot withdraw his +hand from the bell of his horn, into which he had thrust it too far. +</p> + +<p> +And the audience! The audience, panting, all in a heat, gesticulates and howls. +All the faces are as red as if a fire were burning within their bodies. They +crowd each other, hustle each other to get out—the men without hats, the +women without mantles! They elbow each other in the corridors, crush between +the doors, quarrel, fight! There are no longer any officials, any burgomaster. +All are equal amid this infernal frenzy! +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<a name="image09"></a> +<img src="images/image09.jpg" width="425" height="600" alt="[Illustration: ]" /> +<p class="caption">They hustle each other to get out +</p> +</div> + +<p> +Some moments after, when all have reached the street, each one resumes his +habitual tranquillity, and peaceably enters his house, with a confused +remembrance of what he has just experienced. +</p> + +<p> +The fourth act of the “Huguenots,” which formerly lasted six hours, +began, on this evening at half-past four, and ended at twelve minutes before +five. +</p> + +<p> +It had only lasted eighteen minutes! +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="ox_08"></a>CHAPTER VIII.<br/> +IN WHICH THE ANCIENT AND SOLEMN GERMAN WALTZ BECOMES A WHIRLWIND.</h2> + +<p> +But if the spectators, on leaving the theatre, resumed their customary calm, if +they quietly regained their homes, preserving only a sort of passing +stupefaction, they had none the less undergone a remarkable exaltation, and +overcome and weary as if they had committed some excess of dissipation, they +fell heavily upon their beds. +</p> + +<p> +The next day each Quiquendonian had a kind of recollection of what had occurred +the evening before. One missed his hat, lost in the hubbub; another a +coat-flap, torn in the brawl; one her delicately fashioned shoe, another her +best mantle. Memory returned to these worthy people, and with it a certain +shame for their unjustifiable agitation. It seemed to them an orgy in which +they were the unconscious heroes and heroines. They did not speak of it; they +did not wish to think of it. But the most astounded personage in the town was +Van Tricasse the burgomaster. +</p> + +<p> +The next morning, on waking, he could not find his wig. Lotchè looked +everywhere for it, but in vain. The wig had remained on the field of battle. As +for having it publicly claimed by Jean Mistrol, the town-crier,—no, it +would not do. It were better to lose the wig than to advertise himself thus, as +he had the honour to be the first magistrate of Quiquendone. +</p> + +<p> +The worthy Van Tricasse was reflecting upon this, extended beneath 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 had probably worked before for forty years. The worthy +magistrate recalled to his mind all the incidents of the incomprehensible +performance. He connected them with the events which had taken place shortly +before at Doctor Ox’s reception. He tried to discover the causes of the +singular excitability which, on two occasions, had betrayed itself in the best +citizens of the town. +</p> + +<p> +“What <i>can</i> be going on?” he asked himself. “What giddy +spirit has taken possession of my peaceable town of Quiquendone? Are we about +to go mad, and must we make the town one vast asylum? For yesterday we were all +there, notables, counsellors, judges, advocates, physicians, schoolmasters; and +ail, if my memory serves me,—all of us were assailed by this excess of +furious folly! But what was there in that infernal music? It is inexplicable! +Yet I certainly ate or drank nothing which could put me into such a state. No; +yesterday I had for dinner a slice of 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 am responsible for the conduct of the citizens, I will +have an investigation.” +</p> + +<p> +But the investigation, though decided upon by the municipal council, produced +no result. If the facts were clear, the causes escaped the sagacity of the +magistrates. Besides, tranquillity had been restored in the public mind, and +with tranquillity, forgetfulness of the strange scenes of the theatre. The +newspapers avoided speaking of them, and the account of the performance which +appeared in the “Quiquendone Memorial,” made no allusion to this +intoxication of the entire audience. +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile, though the town resumed its habitual phlegm, and became apparently +Flemish as before, it was observable that, at bottom, the character and +temperament of the people changed little by little. One might have truly said, +with Dominique Custos, the doctor, that “their nerves were +affected.” +</p> + +<p> +Let us explain. This undoubted change only took place under certain conditions. +When the Quiquendonians passed through the streets 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 their hands +and others with their heads,—these doing nothing, those thinking +nothing,—their private life was silent, inert, vegetating as before. No +quarrels, no household squabbles, no acceleration in the beating of the heart, +no excitement of the brain. The mean of their pulsations remained as it was of +old, from fifty to fifty-two per minute. +</p> + +<p> +But, strange and inexplicable phenomenon though it was, which would have defied +the sagacity of the most ingenious physiologists of the day, if the inhabitants +of Quiquendone did not change in their home life, they were visibly changed in +their civil life and in their relations between man and man, to which it leads. +</p> + +<p> +If they met together in some public edifice, it did not “work +well,” as Commissary Passauf expressed it. On ’change, at the +town-hall, in the amphitheatre of the academy, at the sessions of the council, +as well as at the reunions of the <i>savants</i>, a strange excitement seized +the assembled citizens. Their relations with each other became embarrassing +before they had been together an hour. In two hours the discussion degenerated +into an angry dispute. Heads became heated, and personalities were used. Even +at church, during the sermon, the faithful could not listen to Van Stabel, the +minister, in patience, and he threw himself about in the pulpit and lectured +his flock with far more than his usual severity. At last this state of things +brought about altercations more grave, alas! than that between Gustos and +Schut, and if they did not require the interference of the authorities, it was +because the antagonists, after returning home, found there, with its calm, +forgetfulness of the offences offered and received. +</p> + +<p> +This peculiarity could not be observed by these minds, which were absolutely +incapable of recognizing what was passing in them. One person only in the town, +he whose office the council had thought of suppressing for thirty years, +Michael Passauf, had remarked that 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 this infection +should ever develop itself in the family mansions, and if the +epidemic—this was the word he used—should extend through the +streets of the town. Then there would be no more forgetfulness of insults, no +more tranquillity, no intermission in the delirium; but a permanent +inflammation, which would inevitably bring the Quiquendonians into collision +with each other. +</p> + +<p> +“What would happen then?” Commissary Passauf asked himself in +terror. “How could these furious savages be arrested? How check these +goaded temperaments? My office would be no longer a sinecure, and the council +would be obliged to double my salary— unless it should arrest me myself, +for disturbing the public peace!” +</p> + +<p> +These very reasonable fears began to be realized. The infection spread from +’change, the theatre, the church, the town-hall, the academy, the market, +into private houses, and that in less than a fortnight after the terrible +performance of the “Huguenots.” +</p> + +<p> +Its first symptoms appeared in the house of Collaert, the banker. +</p> + +<p> +That wealthy personage gave a ball, or at least a dancing-party, to the +notabilities of the town. He had issued, some months before, a loan of thirty +thousand francs, three quarters of which had been subscribed; and to celebrate +this financial success, he had opened his drawing-rooms, and given a party to +his fellow-citizens. +</p> + +<p> +Everybody knows that Flemish parties are innocent and tranquil enough, the +principal expense of which is usually in beer and syrups. Some conversation on +the weather, the appearance of the crops, the fine condition of the gardens, +the care of flowers, and especially of tulips; a slow and measured dance, from +time to time, perhaps a minuet; sometimes a waltz, but one of those German +waltzes which achieve a turn and a half per minute, and during which the +dancers hold each other as far apart as their arms will permit,—such is +the usual fashion of the balls attended by the aristocratic society of +Quiquendone. The polka, after being altered to four time, had tried to become +accustomed to it; but the dancers always lagged behind the orchestra, no matter +how slow the measure, and it had to be abandoned. +</p> + +<p> +These peaceable reunions, in which the youths and maidens enjoyed an honest and +moderate pleasure, had never been attended by any outburst of ill-nature. Why, +then, on this evening at Collaert the banker’s, did the syrups seem to be +transformed into heady wines, into sparkling champagne, into heating punches? +Why, towards the middle of the evening, did a sort of mysterious intoxication +take possession of the guests? Why did the minuet become a jig? Why did the +orchestra hurry with its harmonies? Why did the candles, just as at the +theatre, burn with unwonted refulgence? What electric current invaded the +banker’s drawing-rooms? How happened it that the couples held each other +so closely, and clasped each other’s hands so convulsively, that the +“cavaliers seuls” made themselves conspicuous by certain +extraordinary steps in that figure usually so grave, so solemn, so majestic, so +very proper? +</p> + +<p> +Alas! what OEdipus could have answered these unsolvable questions? Commissary +Passauf, who was present at the party, saw the storm coming distinctly, but he +could not control it or fly from it, and he felt a kind of intoxication +entering his own brain. All his physical and emotional faculties increased in +intensity. He was seen, several times, to throw himself upon the confectionery +and devour the dishes, as if he had just broken a long fast. +</p> + +<p> +The animation of the ball was increasing all this while. A long murmur, like a +dull buzzing, escaped from all breasts. They danced—really danced. The +feet were agitated by increasing frenzy. The faces became as purple as those of +Silenus. The eyes shone like carbuncles. The general fermentation rose to the +highest pitch. +</p> + +<p> +And when the orchestra thundered out the waltz in “Der +Freyschütz,”—when this waltz, so German, and with a movement so +slow, was attacked with wild arms by the musicians,—ah! it was no longer +a waltz, but an insensate whirlwind, a giddy rotation, a gyration worthy of +being led by some Mephistopheles, beating the 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 of the opulent +mansion, the young men and young girls, the fathers and mothers, 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 Madame Van Tricasse, and the Burgomaster Van Tricasse, and the +Commissary Passauf himself, who never could recall afterwards who had been his +partner on that terrible evening. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<a name="image10"></a> +<img src="images/image10.jpg" width="428" height="600" alt="[Illustration: ]" /> +<p class="caption">it was no longer a waltz +</p> +</div> + +<p> +But she did not forget! And ever since that day she has seen in her dreams the +fiery commissary, enfolding her in an impassioned embrace! And +“she”—was the amiable Tatanémance! +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="ox_09"></a>CHAPTER IX.<br/> +IN WHICH DOCTOR OX AND YGÈNE, HIS ASSISTANT, SAY A FEW WORDS.</h2> + +<p> +“Well, Ygène?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, master, all is ready. The laying of the pipes is finished.” +</p> + +<p> +“At last! Now, then, we are going to operate on a large scale, on the +masses!” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="ox_10"></a>CHAPTER X.<br/> +IN WHICH IT WILL BE SEEN THAT THE EPIDEMIC INVADES THE ENTIRE TOWN, AND +WHAT EFFECT IT PRODUCES.</h2> + +<p> +During the following months the evil, in place of subsiding, became more +extended. From private houses the epidemic spread into the streets. The town of +Quiquendone was no longer to be recognized. +</p> + +<p> +A phenomenon yet stranger than those which had already happened, now appeared; +not only the animal kingdom, but the vegetable kingdom itself, became subject +to the mysterious influence. +</p> + +<p> +According to the ordinary course of things, epidemics are special in their +operation. Those which attack humanity spare the animals, and those which +attack the animals spare the vegetables. A horse was never inflicted with +smallpox, nor a man with the cattle-plague, nor do sheep suffer from the +potato-rot. But here all the laws of nature seemed to be overturned. Not only +were the character, temperament, and ideas of the townsfolk changed, but the +domestic animals—dogs and cats, horses and cows, asses and +goats—suffered from this epidemic influence, as if their habitual +equilibrium had been changed. The plants themselves were infected by a similar +strange metamorphosis. +</p> + +<p> +In the gardens and vegetable patches and orchards very curious symptoms +manifested themselves. Climbing plants climbed more audaciously. Tufted plants +became more tufted than ever. Shrubs became trees. Cereals, scarcely sown, +showed their little green heads, and gained, in the same length of time, as +much in inches as formerly, under the most favourable circumstances, they had +gained in fractions. Asparagus attained the height of several feet; the +artichokes swelled to the size of melons, the melons to the size of pumpkins, +the pumpkins to the size of gourds, the gourds to the size of the belfry bell, +which measured, in truth, nine feet in diameter. The cabbages were bushes, and +the mushrooms umbrellas. +</p> + +<p> +The fruits did not lag behind the vegetables. It required two persons to eat a +strawberry, and four to consume a pear. The grapes also attained the enormous +proportions of those so well depicted by Poussin in his “Return of the +Envoys to the Promised Land.” +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<a name="image11"></a> +<img src="images/image11.jpg" width="419" height="600" alt="[Illustration: ]" /> +<p class="caption">It required two persons to eat a strawberry +</p> +</div> + +<p> +It was the same with the flowers: immense violets spread the most penetrating +perfumes through the air; exaggerated roses shone with the brightest colours; +lilies formed, in a few days, impenetrable copses; geraniums, daisies, +camelias, rhododendrons, invaded the garden walks, and stifled each other. And +the tulips,—those dear liliaceous plants so dear to the Flemish heart, +what emotion they must have caused to their zealous cultivators! 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 a whole family of robins! +</p> + +<p> +The entire town flocked to see this floral phenomenon, and renamed it the +“Tulipa quiquendonia”. +</p> + +<p> +But alas! if these plants, these fruits, these flowers, grew visibly to the +naked eye, if all the vegetables insisted on assuming colossal proportions, if +the brilliancy of their colours and perfume intoxicated the smell and the +sight, they quickly withered. The air which they absorbed rapidly exhausted +them, and they soon died, faded, and dried up. +</p> + +<p> +Such was the fate of the famous tulip, which, after several days of splendour, +became emaciated, and fell lifeless. +</p> + +<p> +It was soon the same with the domestic animals, from the house-dog to the +stable pig, from the canary in its cage to the turkey of the back-court. It +must be said that in ordinary times these animals were not less phlegmatic than +their masters. The dogs and cats vegetated rather than lived. They never +betrayed a wag of pleasure nor a snarl of wrath. Their tails moved no more than +if they had been made of bronze. Such a thing as a bite or scratch from any of +them had not been known from time immemorial. As for mad dogs, they were looked +upon as imaginary beasts, like the griffins and the rest in the menagerie of +the apocalypse. +</p> + +<p> +But what a change had taken place in a few months, the smallest incidents of +which we are trying to reproduce! Dogs and cats began to show teeth and claws. +Several executions had taken place after reiterated offences. A horse was seen, +for the first time, to take his bit in his teeth and rush through the streets +of Quiquendone; an ox was observed to precipitate itself, with lowered horns, +upon one of his herd; an ass was seen to turn himself ever, with his legs in +the air, in the Place Saint Ernuph, and bray as ass never brayed before; a +sheep, actually a sheep, defended valiantly the cutlets within him from the +butcher’s knife. +</p> + +<p> +Van Tricasse, the burgomaster, was forced to make police regulations concerning +the domestic animals, as, seized with lunacy, they rendered the streets of +Quiquendone unsafe. +</p> + +<p> +But alas! if the animals were mad, the men were scarcely less so. No age was +spared by the scourge. Babies soon became quite insupportable, though till now +so easy to bring up; and for the first time Honoré Syntax, the judge, was +obliged to apply the rod to his youthful offspring. +</p> + +<p> +There was a kind of insurrection at the high school, and the dictionaries +became formidable missiles in the classes. The scholars would not submit to be +shut in, and, besides, the infection took the teachers themselves, who +overwhelmed the boys and girls with extravagant tasks and punishments. +</p> + +<p> +Another strange phenomenon occurred. All these Quiquendonians, so sober before, +whose chief food had been whipped creams, committed wild excesses in their +eating and drinking. Their usual regimen no longer sufficed. Each stomach was +transformed into a gulf, and it became necessary to fill this gulf by the most +energetic means. The consumption of the town was trebled. Instead of two +repasts they had six. Many cases of indigestion were reported. The Counsellor +Niklausse could not satisfy his hunger. Van Tricasse found it impossible to +assuage his thirst, and remained in a state of rabid semi-intoxication. +</p> + +<p> +In short, the most alarming symptoms manifested themselves and increased from +day to day. Drunken people staggered in the streets, and these were often +citizens of high position. +</p> + +<p> +Dominique Custos, the physician, had plenty to do with the heartburns, +inflammations, and nervous affections, which proved to what a strange degree +the nerves of the people had been irritated. +</p> + +<p> +There were daily quarrels and altercations in the once deserted but now crowded +streets of Quiquendone; for nobody could any longer stay at home. It was +necessary to establish a new police force to control the disturbers of the +public peace. A prison-cage was established in the Town Hall, and speedily +became full, night and day, of refractory offenders. Commissary Passauf was in +despair. +</p> + +<p> +A marriage was concluded in less than two months,—such a thing had never +been seen before. Yes, the son of Rupp, the schoolmaster, wedded the daughter +of Augustine de Rovere, and that fifty-seven days only after he had petitioned +for her hand and heart! +</p> + +<p> +Other marriages were decided upon, which, in old times, would have remained in +doubt and discussion for years. The burgomaster perceived that his own +daughter, the charming Suzel, was escaping from his hands. +</p> + +<p> +As for dear Tatanémance, she had dared to sound Commissary Passauf on the +subject of a union, which seemed to her to combine every element of happiness, +fortune, honour, youth! +</p> + +<p> +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 never believe! +</p> + +<p> +Between M. Frantz Niklausse, the gentle angler, and young Simon Collaert, the +wealthy banker’s son. +</p> + +<p> +And the cause of this duel was the burgomaster’s daughter, for whom Simon +discovered himself to be fired with passion, and whom he refused to yield to +the claims of an audacious rival! +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="ox_11"></a>CHAPTER XI.<br/> +IN WHICH THE QUIQUENDONIANS ADOPT A HEROIC RESOLUTION.</h2> + +<p> +We have seen to what a deplorable condition the people of Quiquendone were +reduced. Their heads were in a ferment. They no longer knew or recognized +themselves. The most peaceable citizens had become quarrelsome. If you looked +at them askance, they would speedily send you a challenge. Some let their +moustaches grow, and several—the most belligerent—curled them up at +the ends. +</p> + +<p> +This being their condition, the administration of the town and the maintenance +of order in the streets became difficult tasks, for the government had not been +organized for such a state of things. The burgomaster—that worthy Van +Tricasse whom we have seen so placid, so dull, so incapable of coming to any +decision— the burgomaster became intractable. His house resounded with +the sharpness of his voice. He made twenty decisions a day, scolding his +officials, and himself enforcing the regulations of his administration. +</p> + +<p> +Ah, what a change! The amiable and tranquil mansion of the burgomaster, that +good Flemish home—where was its former calm? What changes had taken place +in your household economy! Madame Van Tricasse had become acrid, whimsical, +harsh. Her husband sometimes succeeded in drowning her voice by talking louder +than she, but could not silence her. The petulant humour of this worthy dame +was excited by everything. Nothing went right. The servants offended her every +moment. Tatanémance, her sister-in-law, who was not less irritable, replied +sharply to her. M. Van Tricasse naturally supported Lotchè, his servant, as is +the case in all good households; and this permanently exasperated Madame, who +constantly disputed, discussed, and made scenes with her husband. +</p> + +<p> +“What on earth is the matter with us?” cried the unhappy +burgomaster. “What is this fire that is devouring us? Are we possessed +with the devil? Ah, Madame Van Tricasse, Madame Van Tricasse, you will end by +making me die before you, and thus violate all the traditions of the +family!” +</p> + +<p> +The reader will not have forgotten the strange custom by which M. Van Tricasse +would become a widower and marry again, so as not to break the chain of +descent. +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile, this disposition of all minds produced other curious effects worthy +of note. This excitement, the cause of which has so far escaped us, brought +about unexpected physiological changes. Talents, hitherto unrecognized, +betrayed themselves. Aptitudes were suddenly revealed. Artists, before +common-place, displayed new ability. Politicians and authors arose. Orators +proved themselves equal to the most arduous debates, and on every question +inflamed audiences which were quite ready to be inflamed. From the sessions of +the council, this movement spread to the public political meetings, and a club +was formed at Quiquendone; whilst twenty newspapers, the “Quiquendone +Signal,” the “Quiquendone Impartial,” the “Quiquendone +Radical,” and so on, written in an inflammatory style, raised the most +important questions. +</p> + +<p> +But what about? you will ask. Apropos of everything, and of nothing; apropos of +the Oudenarde tower, which was falling, and which some wished to pull down, and +others to prop up; apropos of the police regulations issued by the council, +which some obstinate citizens threatened to resist; apropos of the sweeping of +the gutters, repairing the sewers, and so on. Nor did the enraged orators +confine themselves to the internal administration of the town. Carried on by +the current they went further, and essayed to plunge their fellow-citizens into +the hazards of war. +</p> + +<p> +Quiquendone had had for eight or nine hundred years a <i>casus belli</i> of the +best quality; but she had preciously laid it up like a relic, and there had +seemed some probability that it would become effete, and no longer serviceable. +</p> + +<p> +This was what had given rise to the <i>casus belli</i>. +</p> + +<p> +It is not generally known that Quiquendone, in this cosy corner of Flanders, +lies next to the little town of Virgamen. The territories of the two +communities are contiguous. +</p> + +<p> +Well, in 1185, some time before Count Baldwin’s departure to the +Crusades, a Virgamen cow—not a cow belonging to a citizen, but a cow +which was common property, let it be observed—audaciously ventured to +pasture on the territory of Quiquendone. This unfortunate beast had scarcely +eaten three mouthfuls; but the offence, the abuse, the crime—whatever you +will—was committed and duly indicted, for the magistrates, at that time, +had already begun to know how to write. +</p> + +<p> +“We will take revenge at the proper moment,” said simply Natalis +Van Tricasse, the thirty-second predecessor of the burgomaster of this story, +“and the Virgamenians will lose nothing by waiting.” +</p> + +<p> +The Virgamenians were forewarned. They waited thinking, without doubt, that the +remembrance of the offence would fade away with the lapse of time; and really, +for several centuries, they lived on good terms with their neighbours of +Quiquendone. +</p> + +<p> +But they counted without their hosts, or rather without this strange epidemic, +which, radically changing the character of the Quiquendonians, aroused their +dormant vengeance. +</p> + +<p> +It was at the club of the Rue Monstrelet that the truculent orator Schut, +abruptly introducing the subject to his hearers, inflamed them with the +expressions and metaphors used on such occasions. He recalled the offence, the +injury which had been done to Quiquendone, and which a nation “jealous of +its rights” could not admit as a precedent; he showed the insult to be +still existing, the wound still bleeding: he spoke of certain special +head-shakings on the part of the people of Virgamen, which indicated in what +degree of contempt they regarded the people of Quiquendone; he appealed to his +fellow-citizens, who, unconsciously perhaps, had supported this mortal insult +for long centuries; he adjured the “children of the ancient town” +to have no other purpose than to obtain a substantial reparation. And, lastly, +he made an appeal to “all the living energies of the nation!” +</p> + +<p> +With what enthusiasm these words, so new to Quiquendonian ears, were greeted, +may be surmised, but cannot be told. All the auditors rose, and with extended +arms demanded war with loud cries. Never had the Advocate Schut achieved such a +success, and it must be avowed that his triumphs were not few. +</p> + +<p> +The burgomaster, the counsellor, all the notabilities present at this memorable +meeting, would have vainly attempted to resist the popular outburst. Besides, +they had no desire to do so, and cried as loud, if not louder, than the +rest,— +</p> + +<p> +“To the frontier! To the frontier!” +</p> + +<p> +As the frontier was but three kilometers from the walls of Quiquendone, it is +certain that the Virgamenians ran a real danger, for they might easily be +invaded without having had time to look about them. +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile, Josse Liefrinck, the worthy chemist, who alone had preserved his +senses on this grave occasion, tried to make his fellow-citizens comprehend +that guns, cannon, and generals were equally wanting to their design. +</p> + +<p> +They replied to him, not without many impatient gestures, that these generals, +cannons, and guns would be improvised; that the right and love of country +sufficed, and rendered a people irresistible. +</p> + +<p> +Hereupon the burgomaster himself came forward, and in a sublime harangue made +short work of those pusillanimous people who disguise their fear under a veil +of prudence, which veil he tore off with a patriotic hand. +</p> + +<p> +At this sally it seemed as if the hall would fall in under the applause. +</p> + +<p> +The vote was eagerly demanded, and was taken amid acclamations. +</p> + +<p> +The cries of “To Virgamen! to Virgamen!” redoubled. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<a name="image12"></a> +<img src="images/image12.jpg" width="417" height="600" alt="[Illustration: ]" /> +<p class="caption">“To Virgamen! to Virgamen!” +</p> +</div> + +<p> +The burgomaster then took it upon himself to put the armies in motion, and in +the name of the town he promised the honours of a triumph, such as was given in +the times of the Romans to that one of its generals who should return +victorious. +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile, Josse Liefrinck, who was an obstinate fellow, and did not regard +himself as beaten, though he really had been, insisted on making another +observation. He wished to remark that the triumph was only accorded at Rome to +those victorious generals who had killed five thousand of the enemy. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, well!” cried the meeting deliriously. +</p> + +<p> +“And as the population of the town of Virgamen consists of but three +thousand five hundred and seventy-five inhabitants, it would be difficult, +unless the same person was killed several times—” +</p> + +<p> +But they did not let the luckless logician finish, and he was turned out, +hustled and bruised. +</p> + +<p> +“Citizens,” said Pulmacher the grocer, who usually sold groceries +by retail, “whatever this cowardly apothecary may have said, I engage by +myself to kill five thousand Virgamenians, if you will accept my +services!” +</p> + +<p> +“Five thousand five hundred!” cried a yet more resolute patriot. +</p> + +<p> +“Six thousand six hundred!” retorted the grocer. +</p> + +<p> +“Seven thousand!” cried Jean Orbideck, the confectioner of the Rue +Hemling, who was on the road to a fortune by making whipped creams. +</p> + +<p> +“Adjudged!” exclaimed the burgomaster Van Tricasse, on finding that +no one else rose on the bid. +</p> + +<p> +And this was how Jean Orbideck the confectioner became general-in-chief of the +forces of Quiquendone. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="ox_12"></a>CHAPTER XII.<br/> +IN WHICH YGÈNE, THE ASSISTANT, GIVES A REASONABLE PIECE OF ADVICE, WHICH IS +EAGERLY REJECTED BY DOCTOR OX.</h2> + +<p> +“Well, master,” said Ygène next day, as he poured the pails of +sulphuric acid into the troughs of the great battery. +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” resumed Doctor Ox, “was I not right? See to what not +only the physical developments of a whole nation, but its morality, its +dignity, its talents, its political sense, have come! It is only a question of +molecules.” +</p> + +<p> +“No doubt; but—” +</p> + +<p> +“But—” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you not think that matters have gone far enough, and that these poor +devils should not be excited beyond measure?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, no!” cried the doctor; “no! I will go on to the +end!” +</p> + +<p> +“As you will, master; the experiment, however, seems to me conclusive, +and I think it time to—” +</p> + +<p> +“To—” +</p> + +<p> +“To close the valve.” +</p> + +<p> +“You’d better!” cried Doctor Ox. “If you attempt it, +I’ll throttle you!” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="ox_13"></a>CHAPTER XIII.<br/> +IN WHICH IT IS ONCE MORE PROVED THAT BY TAKING HIGH GROUND ALL HUMAN +LITTLENESSES MAY BE OVERLOOKED.</h2> + +<p> +“You say?” asked the Burgomaster Van Tricasse of the Counsellor +Niklausse. +</p> + +<p> +“I say that this war is necessary,” replied Niklausse, firmly, +“and that the time has come to avenge this insult.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I repeat to you,” replied the burgomaster, tartly, +“that if the people of Quiquendone do not profit by this occasion to +vindicate their rights, they will be unworthy of their name.” +</p> + +<p> +“And as for me, I maintain that we ought, without delay, to collect our +forces and lead them to the front.” +</p> + +<p> +“Really, monsieur, really!” replied Van Tricasse. “And do you +speak thus to <i>me</i>?” +</p> + +<p> +“To yourself, monsieur the burgomaster; and you shall hear the truth, +unwelcome as it may be.” +</p> + +<p> +“And you shall hear it yourself, counsellor,” returned Van Tricasse +in a passion, “for it will come better from my mouth than from yours! +Yes, monsieur, yes, any delay would be dishonourable. The town of Quiquendone +has waited nine hundred years for the moment to take its revenge, and whatever +you may say, whether it pleases you or not, we shall march upon the +enemy.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, you take it thus!” replied Niklausse harshly. “Very +well, monsieur, we will march without you, if it does not please you to +go.” +</p> + +<p> +“A burgomaster’s place is in the front rank, monsieur!” +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<a name="image13"></a> +<img src="images/image13.jpg" width="419" height="600" alt="[Illustration: ]" /> +<p class="caption">“A burgomaster’s place is in the front rank, +monsieur!” +</p> +</div> + +<p> +“And that of a counsellor also, monsieur.” +</p> + +<p> +“You insult me by thwarting all my wishes,” cried the burgomaster, +whose fists seemed likely to hit out before long. +</p> + +<p> +“And you insult me equally by doubting my patriotism,” cried +Niklausse, who was equally ready for a tussle. +</p> + +<p> +“I tell you, monsieur, that the army of Quiquendone shall be put in +motion within two days!” +</p> + +<p> +“And I repeat to you, monsieur, that forty-eight hours shall not pass +before we shall have marched upon the enemy!” +</p> + +<p> +It is easy to see, from this fragment of conversation, that the two speakers +supported exactly the same idea. Both wished for hostilities; but as their +excitement disposed them to altercation, Niklausse would not listen to Van +Tricasse, nor Van Tricasse to Niklausse. Had they been of contrary opinions on +this grave question, had the burgomaster favoured war and the counsellor +insisted on peace, the quarrel would not have been more violent. These two old +friends gazed fiercely at each other. By the quickened beating of their hearts, +their red faces, their contracted pupils, the trembling of their muscles, their +harsh voices, it might be conjectured that they were ready to come to blows. +</p> + +<p> +But the striking of a large clock happily checked the adversaries at the moment +when they seemed on the point of assaulting each other. +</p> + +<p> +“At last the hour has come!” cried the burgomaster. +</p> + +<p> +“What hour?” asked the counsellor. +</p> + +<p> +“The hour to go to the belfry tower.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is true, and whether it pleases you or not, I shall go, +monsieur.” +</p> + +<p> +“And I too.” +</p> + +<p> +“Let us go!” +</p> + +<p> +“Let us go!” +</p> + +<p> +It might have been supposed from these last words that a collision had +occurred, and that the adversaries were proceeding to a duel; but it was not +so. It had been agreed that the burgomaster and the counsellor, as the two +principal dignitaries of the town, should repair to the Town Hall, and there +show themselves on the high tower which overlooked Quiquendone; that they +should examine the surrounding country, so as to make the best strategetic plan +for the advance of their troops. +</p> + +<p> +Though they were in accord on this subject, they did not cease to quarrel +bitterly as they went. Their loud voices were heard resounding in the streets; +but all the passers-by were now accustomed to this; the exasperation of the +dignitaries seemed quite natural, and no one took notice of it. Under the +circumstances, a calm man would have been regarded as a monster. +</p> + +<p> +The burgomaster and the counsellor, having reached the porch of the belfry, +were in a paroxysm of fury. They were no longer red, but pale. This terrible +discussion, though they had the same idea, had produced internal spasms, and +every one knows that paleness shows that anger has reached its last limits. +</p> + +<p> +At the foot of the narrow tower staircase there was a real explosion. Who +should go up first? Who should first creep up the winding steps? Truth compels +us to say that there was a tussle, and that the Counsellor Niklausse, forgetful +of all that he owed to his superior, to the supreme magistrate of the town, +pushed Van Tricasse violently back, and dashed up the staircase first. +</p> + +<p> +Both ascended, denouncing and raging at each other at every step. It was to be +feared that a terrible climax would occur on the summit of the tower, which +rose three hundred and fifty-seven feet above the pavement. +</p> + +<p> +The two enemies soon got out of breath, however, and in a little while, at the +eightieth step, they began to move up heavily, breathing loud and short. +</p> + +<p> +Then—was it because of their being out of breath?—their wrath +subsided, or at least only betrayed itself by a succession of unseemly +epithets. They became silent, and, strange to say, it seemed as if their +excitement diminished as they ascended higher above the town. A sort of lull +took place in their minds. Their brains became cooler, and simmered down like a +coffee-pot when taken away from the fire. Why? +</p> + +<p> +We cannot answer this “why;” but the truth is that, having reached +a certain landing-stage, two hundred and sixty-six feet above ground, the two +adversaries sat down and, really more calm, looked at each other without any +anger in their faces. +</p> + +<p> +“How high it is!” said the burgomaster, passing his handkerchief +over his rubicund face. +</p> + +<p> +“Very high!” returned the counsellor. “Do you know that we +have gone fourteen feet higher than the Church of Saint Michael at +Hamburg?” +</p> + +<p> +“I know it,” replied the burgomaster, in a tone of vanity very +pardonable in the chief magistrate of Quiquendone. +</p> + +<p> +The two notabilities soon resumed their ascent, casting curious glances through +the loopholes pierced in the tower walls. The burgomaster had taken the head of +the procession, without any remark on the part of the counsellor. It even +happened that at about the three hundred and fourth step, Van Tricasse being +completely tired out, Niklausse kindly pushed him from behind. The burgomaster +offered no resistance to this, and, when he reached the platform of the tower, +said graciously,— +</p> + +<p> +“Thanks, Niklausse; I will do the same for you one day.” +</p> + +<p> +A little while before it had been two wild beasts, ready to tear each other to +pieces, who had presented themselves at the foot of the tower; it was now two +friends who reached its summit. +</p> + +<p> +The weather was superb. It was the month of May. The sun had absorbed all the +vapours. What a pure and limpid atmosphere! The most minute objects over a +broad space might be discerned. The walls of Virgamen, glistening in their +whiteness,—its red, pointed roofs, its belfries shining in the +sunlight—appeared a few miles off. And this was the town that was +foredoomed to all the horrors of fire and pillage! +</p> + +<p> +The burgomaster and the counsellor sat down beside each other on a small stone +bench, like two worthy people whose souls were in close sympathy. As they +recovered breath, they looked around; then, after a brief silence,— +</p> + +<p> +“How fine this is!” cried the burgomaster. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, it is admirable!” replied the counsellor. “Does it not +seem to you, my good Van Tricasse, that humanity is destined to dwell rather at +such heights, than to crawl about on the surface of our globe?” +</p> + +<p> +“I agree with you, honest Niklausse,” returned the burgomaster, +“I agree with you. You seize sentiment better when you get clear of +nature. You breathe it in every sense! It is at such heights that philosophers +should be formed, and that sages should live, above the miseries of this +world!” +</p> + +<p> +“Shall we go around the platform?” asked the counsellor. +</p> + +<p> +“Let us go around the platform,” replied the burgomaster. +</p> + +<p> +And the two friends, arm in arm, and putting, as formerly, long pauses between +their questions and answers, examined every point of the horizon. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<a name="image14"></a> +<img src="images/image14.jpg" width="428" height="600" alt="[Illustration: ]" /> +<p class="caption">The two friends, arm in arm +</p> +</div> + +<p> +“It is at least seventeen years since I have ascended the belfry +tower,” said Van Tricasse. +</p> + +<p> +“I do not think I ever came up before,” replied Niklausse; +“and I regret it, for the view from this height is sublime! Do you see, +my friend, the pretty stream of the Vaar, as it winds among the trees?” +</p> + +<p> +“And, beyond, the heights of Saint Hermandad! How gracefully they shut in +the horizon! Observe that border of green trees, which Nature has so +picturesquely arranged! Ah, Nature, Nature, Niklausse! Could the hand of man +ever hope to rival her?” +</p> + +<p> +“It is enchanting, my excellent friend,” replied the counsellor. +“See the flocks and herds lying in the verdant pastures,—the oxen, +the cows, the sheep!” +</p> + +<p> +“And the labourers going to the fields! You would say they were Arcadian +shepherds; they only want a bagpipe!” +</p> + +<p> +“And over all this fertile country the beautiful blue sky, which no +vapour dims! Ah, Niklausse, one might become a poet here! I do not understand +why Saint Simeon Stylites was not one of the greatest poets of the +world.” +</p> + +<p> +“It was because, perhaps, his column was not high enough,” replied +the counsellor, with a gentle smile. +</p> + +<p> +At this moment the chimes of Quiquendone rang out. The clear bells played one +of their most melodious airs. The two friends listened in ecstasy. +</p> + +<p> +Then in his calm voice, Van Tricasse said,— +</p> + +<p> +“But what, friend Niklausse, did we come to the top of this tower to +do?” +</p> + +<p> +“In fact,” replied the counsellor, “we have permitted +ourselves to be carried away by our reveries—” +</p> + +<p> +“What did we come here to do?” repeated the burgomaster. +</p> + +<p> +“We came,” said Niklausse, “to breathe this pure air, which +human weaknesses have not corrupted.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, shall we descend, friend Niklausse?” +</p> + +<p> +“Let us descend, friend Van Tricasse.” +</p> + +<p> +They gave a parting glance at the splendid panorama which was spread before +their eyes; then the burgomaster passed down first, and began to descend with a +slow and measured pace. The counsellor followed a few steps behind. They +reached the landing-stage at which they had stopped on ascending. Already their +cheeks began to redden. They tarried a moment, then resumed their descent. +</p> + +<p> +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 did more than worry +him; for twenty steps lower down he ordered the counsellor to stop, that he +might get on some distance ahead. +</p> + +<p> +The counsellor replied that he did not wish to remain with his leg in the air +to await the good pleasure of the burgomaster, and kept on. +</p> + +<p> +Van Tricasse retorted with a rude expression. +</p> + +<p> +The counsellor responded by an insulting allusion to the burgomaster’s +age, destined as he was, by his family traditions, to marry a second time. +</p> + +<p> +The burgomaster went down twenty steps more, and warned Niklausse that this +should not pass thus. +</p> + +<p> +Niklausse replied that, at all events, he would pass down first; and, the space +being very narrow, the two dignitaries came into collision, and found +themselves in utter darkness. The words “blockhead” and +“booby” were the mildest which they now applied to each other. +</p> + +<p> +“We shall see, stupid beast!” cried the +burgomaster,—“we shall see what figure you will make in this war, +and in what rank you will march!” +</p> + +<p> +“In the rank that precedes yours, you silly old fool!” replied +Niklausse. +</p> + +<p> +Then there were other cries, and it seemed as if bodies were rolling over each +other. What was going on? Why were these dispositions so quickly changed? Why +were the gentle sheep of the tower’s summit metamorphosed into tigers two +hundred feet below it? +</p> + +<p> +However this might be, the guardian of the tower, hearing the noise, opened the +door, just at the moment when the two adversaries, bruised, and with protruding +eyes, were in the act of tearing each other’s hair,—fortunately +they wore wigs. +</p> + +<p> +“You shall give me satisfaction for this!” cried the burgomaster, +shaking his fist under his adversary’s nose. +</p> + +<p> +“Whenever you please!” growled the Counsellor Niklausse, attempting +to respond with a vigorous kick. +</p> + +<p> +The guardian, who was himself in a passion,—I cannot say why,— +thought the scene a very natural one. I know not what excitement urged him to +take part in it, but he controlled himself, and went off to announce throughout +the neighbourhood that a hostile meeting was about to take place between the +Burgomaster Van Tricasse and the Counsellor Niklausse. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="ox_14"></a>CHAPTER XIV.<br/> +IN WHICH MATTERS GO SO FAR THAT THE INHABITANTS OF QUIQUENDONE, THE READER, +AND EVEN THE AUTHOR, DEMAND AN IMMEDIATE DÉNOUEMENT.</h2> + +<p> +The last incident proves to what a pitch of excitement the Quiquendonians had +been wrought. The two oldest friends in the town, and the most +gentle—before the advent of the epidemic, to reach this degree of +violence! And that, too, only a few minutes after their old mutual sympathy, +their amiable instincts, their contemplative habit, had been restored at the +summit of the tower! +</p> + +<p> +On learning what was going on, Doctor Ox could not contain his joy. He resisted +the arguments which Ygène, who saw what a serious turn affairs were taking, +addressed to him. Besides, both of them were infected by the general fury. They +were not less excited than the rest of the population, and they ended by +quarrelling as violently as the burgomaster and the counsellor. +</p> + +<p> +Besides, one question eclipsed all others, and the intended duels were +postponed to the issue of the Virgamenian difficulty. No man had the right to +shed his blood uselessly, when it belonged, to the last drop, to his country in +danger. The affair was, in short, a grave one, and there was no withdrawing +from it. +</p> + +<p> +The Burgomaster Van Tricasse, despite the warlike ardour with which he was +filled, had not thought it best to throw himself upon the enemy without warning +him. He had, therefore, through the medium of the rural policeman, Hottering, +sent to demand reparation of the Virgamenians for the offence committed, in +1195, on the Quiquendonian territory. +</p> + +<p> +The authorities of Virgamen could not at first imagine of what the envoy spoke, +and the latter, despite his official character, was conducted back to the +frontier very cavalierly. +</p> + +<p> +Van Tricasse then sent one of the aides-de-camp of the confectioner-general, +citizen Hildevert Shuman, a manufacturer of barley-sugar, a very firm and +energetic man, who carried to the authorities of Virgamen the original minute +of the indictment drawn up in 1195 by order of the Burgomaster Natalís Van +Tricasse. +</p> + +<p> +The authorities of Virgamen burst out laughing, and served the aide-de-camp in +the same manner as the rural policeman. +</p> + +<p> +The burgomaster then assembled the dignitaries of the town. +</p> + +<p> +A letter, remarkably and vigorously drawn up, was written as an ultimatum; the +cause of quarrel was plainly stated, and a delay of twenty-four hours was +accorded to the guilty city in which to repair the outrage done to Quiquendone. +</p> + +<p> +The letter was sent off, and returned a few hours afterwards, torn to bits, +which made so many fresh insults. The Virgamenians knew of old the forbearance +and equanimity of the Quiquendonians, and made sport of them and their demand, +of their <i>casus belli</i> and their <i>ultimatum</i>. +</p> + +<p> +There was only one thing left to do,—to have recourse to arms, to invoke +the God of battles, and, after the Prussian fashion, to hurl themselves upon +the Virgamenians before the latter could be prepared. +</p> + +<p> +This decision was made by the council in solemn conclave, in which cries, +objurgations, and menacing gestures were mingled with unexampled violence. An +assembly of idiots, a congress of madmen, a club of maniacs, would not have +been more tumultuous. +</p> + +<p> +As soon as the declaration of war was known, General Jean Orbideck assembled +his troops, perhaps two thousand three hundred and ninety-three combatants from +a population of two thousand three hundred and ninety-three souls. The women, +the children, the old men, were joined with the able-bodied males. The guns of +the town had been put under requisition. Five had been found, two of which were +without cocks, and these had been distributed to the advance-guard. The +artillery was composed of the old culverin of the château, taken in 1339 at the +attack on Quesnoy, one of the first occasions of the use of cannon in history, +and which had not been fired off for five centuries. Happily for those who were +appointed to take it in charge there were no projectiles with which to load it; +but such as it was, this engine might well impose on the enemy. As for +side-arms, they had been taken from the museum of antiquities,—flint +hatchets, helmets, Frankish battle-axes, javelins, halberds, rapiers, and so +on; and also in those domestic arsenals commonly known as +“cupboards” and “kitchens.” But courage, the right, +hatred of the foreigner, the yearning for vengeance, were to take the place of +more perfect engines, and to replace—at least it was hoped so—the +modern mitrailleuses and breech-loaders. +</p> + +<p> +The troops were passed in review. Not a citizen failed at the roll-call. +General Orbideck, whose seat on horseback was far from firm, and whose steed +was a vicious beast, was thrown three times in front of the army; but he got up +again without injury, and this was regarded as a favourable omen. The +burgomaster, the counsellor, the civil commissary, the chief justice, the +school-teacher, the banker, the rector,—in short, all the notabilities of +the town,—marched at the head. There were no tears shed, either by +mothers, sisters, or daughters. They urged on their husbands, fathers, +brothers, to the combat, and even followed them and formed the rear-guard, +under the orders of the courageous Madame Van Tricasse. +</p> + +<p> +The crier, Jean Mistrol, blew his trumpet; the army moved off, and directed +itself, with ferocious cries, towards the Oudenarde gate. +</p> + +<hr /> + +<p> +At the moment when the head of the column was about to pass the walls of the +town, a man threw himself before it. +</p> + +<p> +“Stop! stop! Fools that you are!” he cried. “Suspend your +blows! Let me shut the valve! You are not changed in nature! You are good +citizens, quiet and peaceable! If you are so excited, it is my master, Doctor +Ox’s, fault! It is an experiment! Under the pretext of lighting your +streets with oxyhydric gas, he has saturated—” +</p> + +<p> +The assistant was beside himself; but he could not finish. At the instant that +the doctor’s secret was about to escape his lips, Doctor Ox himself +pounced upon the unhappy Ygène in an indescribable rage, and shut his mouth by +blows with his fist. +</p> + +<p> +It was a battle. The burgomaster, the counsellor, the dignitaries, who had +stopped short on Ygène’s sudden appearance, carried away in turn by their +exasperation, rushed upon the two strangers, without waiting to hear either the +one or the other. +</p> + +<p> +Doctor Ox and his assistant, beaten and lashed, were about to be dragged, by +order of Van Tricasse, to the round-house, when,— +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="ox_15"></a>CHAPTER XV.<br/> +IN WHICH THE DÉNOUEMENT TAKES PLACE.</h2> + +<p> +When a formidable explosion resounded. All the atmosphere which enveloped +Quiquendone seemed on fire. A flame of an intensity and vividness quite +unwonted shot up into the heavens like a meteor. Had it been night, this flame +would have been visible for ten leagues around. +</p> + +<p> +The whole army of Quiquendone fell to the earth, like an army of monks. Happily +there were no victims; a few scratches and slight hurts were the only result. +The confectioner, who, as chance would have it, had not fallen from his horse +this time, had his plume singed, and escaped without any further injury. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<a name="image15"></a> +<img src="images/image15.jpg" width="415" height="600" alt="[Illustration: ]" /> +<p class="caption">The whole army of Quiquendone fell to the earth +</p> +</div> + +<p> +What had happened? +</p> + +<p> +Something very simple, as was soon learned; the gasworks had just blown up. +During the absence of the doctor and his assistant, some careless mistake had +no doubt been made. It is not known how or why a communication had been +established between the reservoir which contained the oxygen and that which +enclosed the hydrogen. An explosive mixture had resulted from the union of +these two gases, to which fire had accidentally been applied. +</p> + +<p> +This changed everything; but when the army got upon its feet again, Doctor Ox +and his assistant Ygène had disappeared. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="ox_16"></a>CHAPTER XVI.<br/> +IN WHICH THE INTELLIGENT READER SEES THAT HE HAS GUESSED CORRECTLY, DESPITE +ALL THE AUTHOR’S PRECAUTIONS.</h2> + +<p> +After the explosion, Quiquendone immediately became the peaceable, phlegmatic, +and Flemish town it formerly was. +</p> + +<p> +After the explosion, which indeed did not cause a very lively sensation, each +one, without knowing why, mechanically took his way home, the burgomaster +leaning on the counsellor’s arm, the advocate Schut going arm in arm with +Custos the doctor, Frantz Niklausse walking with equal familiarity with Simon +Collaert, each going tranquilly, noiselessly, without even being conscious of +what had happened, and having already forgotten Virgamen and their revenge. The +general returned to his confections, and his aide-de-camp to the barley-sugar. +</p> + +<p> +Thus everything had become calm again; the old existence had been resumed by +men and beasts, beasts and plants; even by the tower of Oudenarde gate, which +the explosion—these explosions are sometimes astonishing—had set +upright again! +</p> + +<p> +And from that time never a word was spoken more loudly than another, never a +discussion took place in the town of Quiquendone. There were no more politics, +no more clubs, no more trials, no more policemen! The post of the Commissary +Passauf became once more a sinecure, and if his salary was not reduced, it was +because the burgomaster and the counsellor could not make up their minds to +decide upon it. +</p> + +<p> +From time to time, indeed, Passauf flitted, without any one suspecting it, +through the dreams of the inconsolable Tatanémance. +</p> + +<p> +As for Frantz’s rival, he generously abandoned the charming Suzel to her +lover, who hastened to wed her five or six years after these events. +</p> + +<p> +And as for Madame Van Tricasse, she died ten years later, at the proper time, +and the burgomaster married Mademoiselle Pélagie Van Tricasse, his cousin, +under excellent conditions—for the happy mortal who should succeed him. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="ox_17"></a>CHAPTER XVII.<br/> +IN WHICH DOCTOR OX’S THEORY IS EXPLAINED.</h2> + +<p> +What, then, had this mysterious Doctor Ox done? Tried a fantastic +experiment,—nothing more. +</p> + +<p> +After having laid down his gas-pipes, he had saturated, first the public +buildings, then the private dwellings, finally the streets of Quiquendone, with +pure oxygen, without letting in the least atom of hydrogen. +</p> + +<p> +This gas, tasteless and odorless, spread in generous quantity through the +atmosphere, causes, when it is breathed, serious agitation to the human +organism. One who lives in an air saturated with oxygen grows excited, frantic, +burns! +</p> + +<p> +You scarcely return to the ordinary atmosphere before you return to your usual +state. For instance, the counsellor and the burgomaster at the top of the +belfry were themselves again, as the oxygen is kept, by its weight, in the +lower strata of the air. +</p> + +<p> +But one who lives under such conditions, breathing this gas which transforms +the body physiologically as well as the soul, dies speedily, like a madman. +</p> + +<p> +It was fortunate, then, for the Quiquendonians, that a providential explosion +put an end to this dangerous experiment, and abolished Doctor Ox’s +gas-works. +</p> + +<p> +To conclude: Are virtue, courage, talent, wit, imagination,—are all these +qualities or faculties only a question of oxygen? +</p> + +<p> +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 curious experiment of which the +worthy old town of Quiquendone was the theatre. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="zach_01"></a>MASTER ZACHARIUS</h2> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>CHAPTER I.<br/> +A WINTER NIGHT.</h2> + +<p> +The city of Geneva lies at the west end of the lake of the same name. The +Rhone, which passes through the town at the outlet of the lake, divides it into +two sections, and is itself divided in the centre of the city by an island +placed in mid-stream. A topographical feature like this is often found in the +great depôts of commerce and industry. No doubt the first inhabitants were +influenced by the easy means of transport which the swift currents of the +rivers offered them—those “roads which walk along of their own +accord,” as Pascal puts it. In the case of the Rhone, it would be the +road that ran along. +</p> + +<p> +Before new and regular buildings were constructed on this island, which was +enclosed like a Dutch galley in the middle of the river, the curious mass of +houses, piled one on the other, presented a delightfully confused +<i>coup-d’oeil</i>. The small area of the island had compelled some of +the buildings to be perched, as it were, on the piles, which were entangled in +the rough currents of the river. The huge beams, blackened by time, and worn by +the water, seemed like the claws of an enormous crab, and presented 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 some old oak forest, while the river engulfed in this forest of +piles, foamed and roared most mournfully. +</p> + +<p> +One of the houses of the island was striking for its curiously aged appearance. +It was the dwelling of the old clockmaker, Master Zacharius, whose household +consisted of his daughter Gerande, Aubert Thun, his apprentice, and his old +servant Scholastique. +</p> + +<p> +There was no man in Geneva to compare in interest with this Zacharius. His age +was past finding out. Not the oldest inhabitant of the town could tell for how +long his thin, pointed head had shaken above his shoulders, nor the day when, +for the first time, he had-walked through the streets, with his long white +locks floating in the wind. The man did not live; he vibrated like the pendulum +of his clocks. His spare and cadaverous figure was always clothed in dark +colours. Like the pictures of Leonardo di Vinci, he was sketched in black. +</p> + +<p> +Gerande had the pleasantest room in the whole house, whence, through a narrow +window, she had the inspiriting view of the snowy peaks of Jura; but the +bedroom and workshop of the old man were a kind of cavern close on to the +water, the floor of which rested on the piles. +</p> + +<p> +From time immemorial Master Zacharius had never come out except at meal times, +and when he went to regulate the different clocks of the town. He passed the +rest of his time at his bench, which was covered with numerous clockwork +instruments, most of which he had invented himself. For he was a clever man; +his works were valued in all France and Germany. The best workers in Geneva +readily recognized his superiority, and showed that he was an honour to the +town, by saying, “To him belongs the glory of having invented the +escapement.” In fact, the birth of true clock-work dates from the +invention which the talents of Zacharius had discovered not many years before. +</p> + +<p> +After he had worked hard for a long time, Zacharius would slowly put his tools +away, cover up the delicate pieces that he had been adjusting with glasses, and +stop the active wheel of his lathe; then he would raise a trap-door constructed +in the floor of his workshop, and, stooping down, used to inhale for hours +together the thick vapours of the Rhone, as it dashed along under his eyes. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<a name="image16"></a> +<img src="images/image16.jpg" width="417" height="600" alt="[Illustration: ]" /> +<p class="caption">he would raise the trap door constructed in the floor of his +workshop. +</p> +</div> + +<p> +One winter’s night the old servant Scholastique served the supper, which, +according to old custom, she and the young mechanic shared with their master. +Master Zacharius did not eat, though the food carefully prepared for him was +offered him in a handsome blue and white dish. He scarcely answered the sweet +words of Gerande, who evidently noticed her father’s silence, and even +the clatter of Scholastique herself no more struck his ear than the roar of the +river, to which he paid no attention. +</p> + +<p> +After the silent meal, the old clockmaker left the table without embracing his +daughter, or saying his usual “Good-night” to all. He left by the +narrow door leading to his den, and the staircase groaned under his heavy +footsteps as he went down. +</p> + +<p> +Gerande, Aubert, and Scholastique sat for some minutes without speaking. On +this evening the weather was dull; the clouds dragged heavily on the Alps, and +threatened rain; the severe climate of Switzerland made one feel sad, while the +south wind swept round the house, and whistled ominously. +</p> + +<p> +“My dear young lady,” said Scholastique, at last, “do you +know that our master has been out of sorts for several days? Holy Virgin! I +know he has had no appetite, because his words stick in his inside, and it +would take a very clever devil to drag even one out of him.” +</p> + +<p> +“My father has some secret cause of trouble, that I cannot even +guess,” replied Gerande, as a sad anxiety spread over her face. +</p> + +<p> +“Mademoiselle, don’t let such sadness fill your heart. You know the +strange habits of Master Zacharius. Who can read his secret thoughts in his +face? No doubt some fatigue has overcome him, but to-morrow he will have +forgotten it, and be very sorry to have given his daughter pain.” +</p> + +<p> +It was Aubert who spoke thus, looking into Gerande’s lovely eyes. Aubert +was the first apprentice whom Master Zacharius had ever admitted to the +intimacy of his labours, for he appreciated his intelligence, discretion, and +goodness of heart; and this young man had attached himself to Gerande with the +earnest devotion natural to a noble nature. +</p> + +<p> +Gerande was eighteen years of age. Her oval face recalled that of the artless +Madonnas whom veneration still displays at the street corners of the antique +towns of Brittany. Her eyes betrayed an infinite simplicity. One would love her +as the sweetest realization of a poet’s dream. Her apparel was of modest +colours, and the white linen which was folded about her shoulders had the tint +and perfume peculiar to the linen of the church. She led a mystical existence +in Geneva, which had not as yet been delivered over to the dryness of +Calvinism. +</p> + +<p> +While, night and morning, she read her Latin prayers in her iron-clasped +missal, Gerande had also discovered a hidden sentiment in Aubert Thun’s +heart, and comprehended what a profound devotion the young workman had for her. +Indeed, the whole world in his eyes was condensed into this old +clockmaker’s house, and he passed all his time near the young girl, when +he left her father’s workshop, after his work was over. +</p> + +<p> +Old Scholastique saw all this, but said nothing. Her loquacity exhausted itself +in preference on the evils of the times, and the little worries of the +household. Nobody tried to stop its course. It was with her as with the musical +snuff-boxes which they made at Geneva; once wound up, you must break them +before you will prevent their playing all their airs through. +</p> + +<p> +Finding Gerande absorbed in a melancholy silence, Scholastique left her old +wooden chair, fixed a taper on the end of a candlestick, lit it, and placed it +near a small waxen Virgin, sheltered in her niche of stone. It was the family +custom to kneel before this protecting Madonna of the domestic hearth, and to +beg her kindly watchfulness during the coming night; but on this evening +Gerande remained silent in her seat. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, well, dear demoiselle,” said the astonished Scholastique, +“supper is over, and it is time to go to bed. Why do you tire your eyes +by sitting up late? Ah, Holy Virgin! It’s much better to sleep, and to +get a little comfort from happy dreams! In these detestable times in which we +live, who can promise herself a fortunate day?” +</p> + +<p> +“Ought we not to send for a doctor for my father?” asked Gerande. +</p> + +<p> +“A doctor!” cried the old domestic. “Has Master Zacharius +ever listened to their fancies and pompous sayings? He might accept medicines +for the watches, but not for the body!” +</p> + +<p> +“What shall we do?” murmured Gerande. “Has he gone to work, +or to rest?” +</p> + +<p> +“Gerande,” answered Aubert softly, “some mental trouble +annoys your father, that is all.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you know what it is, Aubert?” +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps, Gerande” +</p> + +<p> +“Tell us, then,” cried Scholastique eagerly, economically +extinguishing her taper. +</p> + +<p> +“For several days, Gerande,” said the young apprentice, +“something absolutely incomprehensible has been going on. All the watches +which your father has made and sold for some years have suddenly stopped. Very +many of them have been brought back to him. He has carefully taken them to +pieces; the springs were in good condition, and the wheels well set. He has put +them together yet more carefully; but, despite his skill, they will not +go.” +</p> + +<p> +“The devil’s in it!” cried Scholastique. +</p> + +<p> +“Why say you so?” asked Gerande. “It seems very natural to +me. Nothing lasts for ever in this world. The infinite cannot be fashioned by +the hands of men.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is none the less true,” returned Aubert, “that there is +in this something very mysterious and extraordinary. I have myself been helping +Master Zacharius to search for the cause of this derangement 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 in despair.” +</p> + +<p> +“But why undertake so vain a task?” resumed Scholastique. “Is +it natural that a little copper instrument should go of itself, and mark the +hours? We ought to have kept to the sun-dial!” +</p> + +<p> +“You will not talk thus, Scholastique,” said Aubert, “when +you learn that the sun-dial was invented by Cain.” +</p> + +<p> +“Good heavens! what are you telling me?” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you think,” asked Gerande simply, “that we might pray to +God to give life to my father’s watches?” +</p> + +<p> +“Without doubt,” replied Aubert. +</p> + +<p> +“Good! They will be useless prayers,” muttered the old servant, +“but Heaven will pardon them for their good intent.” +</p> + +<p> +The taper was relighted. Scholastique, Gerande, and Aubert knelt down together +upon the tiles of the room. The young girl prayed for her mother’s soul, +for a blessing for the night, for travellers and prisoners, for the good and +the wicked, and more earnestly than all for the unknown misfortunes of her +father. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<a name="image17"></a> +<img src="images/image17.jpg" width="417" height="600" alt="[Illustration: ]" /> +<p class="caption">The young girl prayed +</p> +</div> + +<p> +Then the three devout souls rose with some confidence in their hearts, because +they had laid their sorrow on the bosom of God. +</p> + +<p> +Aubert repaired to his own room; Gerande sat pensively by the window, whilst +the last lights were disappearing from the city streets; and Scholastique, +having poured a little water on the flickering embers, and shut the two +enormous bolts on the door, threw herself upon her bed, where she was soon +dreaming that she was dying of fright. +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile the terrors of this winter’s night had increased. Sometimes, +with the whirlpools of the river, the wind engulfed itself among the piles, and +the whole house shivered and shook; but the young girl, absorbed in her +sadness, thought only of her father. After hearing what Aubert told her, the +malady of Master Zacharius took fantastic proportions in her mind; and it +seemed to her as if his existence, so dear to her, having become purely +mechanical, no longer moved on its worn-out pivots without effort. +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly the pent-house shutter, shaken by the squall, struck against the +window of the room. Gerande shuddered and started up without understanding the +cause of the noise which thus disturbed her reverie. When she became a little +calmer she opened the sash. The clouds had burst, and a torrent-like rain +pattered on the surrounding roofs. The young girl leaned out of the window to +draw to the shutter shaken by the wind, but she feared to do so. It seemed to +her that the rain and the river, confounding their tumultuous waters, were +submerging the frail house, the planks of which creaked in every direction. She +would have flown from her chamber, but she saw below the flickering of a light +which appeared to come from Master Zacharius’s retreat, and in one of +those momentary calms during which the elements keep a sudden silence, her ear +caught plaintive sounds. She tried to shut her window, but could not. The wind +violently repelled her, like a thief who was breaking into a dwelling. +</p> + +<p> +Gerande thought she would go mad with terror. What was her father doing? She +opened the door, and it escaped from her hands, and slammed loudly with the +force of the tempest. Gerande then found herself in the dark supper-room, +succeeded in gaining, on tiptoe, the staircase which led to her father’s +shop, and pale and fainting, glided down. +</p> + +<p> +The old watchmaker was upright in the middle of the room, which resounded with +the roaring of the river. His bristling hair gave him a sinister aspect. He was +talking and gesticulating, without seeing or hearing anything. Gerande stood +still on the threshold. +</p> + +<p> +“It is death!” said Master Zacharius, in a hollow voice; “it +is death! Why should I live longer, now that I have dispersed my existence over +the earth? For I, Master, Zacharius, am really the creator of all the watches +that I have fashioned! It is a part of my very soul that I have shut up in each +of these cases of iron, silver, or gold! Every time that one of these accursed +watches stops, I feel my heart cease beating, for I have regulated them with +its pulsations!” +</p> + +<p> +As he spoke in this strange way, the old man cast his eyes on his bench. There +lay all the pieces of a watch that he had carefully taken apart. He took up a +sort of hollow cylinder, called a barrel, in which the spring is enclosed, and +removed the steel spiral, but instead of relaxing itself, according to the laws +of its elasticity, it remained coiled on itself like a sleeping viper. It +seemed knotted, like impotent old men whose blood has long been congealed. +Master Zacharius vainly essayed to uncoil it with his thin fingers, the +outlines of which were exaggerated on the wall; but he tried in vain, and soon, +with a terrible cry of anguish and rage, he threw it through the trap-door into +the boiling Rhone. +</p> + +<p> +Gerande, her feet riveted to the floor, stood breathless and motionless. 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,— +</p> + +<p> +“Gerande, dear Gerande! grief still keeps you awake. Go in again, I beg +of you; the night is cold.” +</p> + +<p> +“Aubert!” whispered the young girl. “You!” +</p> + +<p> +“Ought I not to be troubled by what troubles you?” +</p> + +<p> +These soft words sent the blood back into the young girl’s heart. She +leaned on Aubert’s arm, and said to him,— +</p> + +<p> +“My father is very ill, Aubert! You alone can cure him, for this disorder +of the mind would not yield to his daughter’s consolings. His mind is +attacked by a very natural delusion, and in working with him, repairing the +watches, you will bring him back to reason. Aubert,” she continued, +“it is not true, is it, that his life is mixed up with that of his +watches?” +</p> + +<p> +Aubert did not reply. +</p> + +<p> +“But is my father’s a trade condemned by God?” asked Gerande, +trembling. +</p> + +<p> +“I know not,” returned the apprentice, warming the cold hands of +the girl with his own. “But go back to your room, my poor Gerande, and +with sleep recover hope!” +</p> + +<p> +Gerande slowly returned to her chamber, and remained there till daylight, +without sleep closing her eyelids. Meanwhile, Master Zacharius, always mute and +motionless, gazed at the river as it rolled turbulently at his feet. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="zach_02"></a>CHAPTER II.<br/> +THE PRIDE OF SCIENCE.</h2> + +<p> +The severity of the Geneva merchant in business matters has become proverbial. +He is rigidly honourable, and excessively just. 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? +</p> + +<p> +It was certain that these watches had suddenly stopped, and without any +apparent reason. The wheels were in a good condition and firmly fixed, but the +springs had lost all elasticity. Vainly did the watchmaker try to replace them; +the wheels remained motionless. These unaccountable derangements were greatly +to the old man’s discredit. His noble inventions had many times brought +upon him suspicions of sorcery, which now seemed confirmed. These rumours +reached Gerande, and she often trembled for her father, when she saw malicious +glances directed towards him. +</p> + +<p> +Yet on the morning after this night of anguish, Master Zacharius seemed to +resume work with some confidence. The morning sun inspired him with some +courage. Aubert hastened to join him in the shop, and received an affable +“Good-day.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am better,” said the old man. “I don’t know what +strange pains in the head attacked me yesterday, but the sun has quite chased +them away, with the clouds of the night.” +</p> + +<p> +“In faith, master,” returned Aubert, “I don’t like the +night for either of us!” +</p> + +<p> +“And thou art right, Aubert. If you ever become a great man, you will +understand that day is as necessary to you as food. A great savant should be +always ready to receive the homage of his fellow-men.” +</p> + +<p> +“Master, it seems to me that the pride of science has possessed +you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Pride, Aubert! Destroy my past, annihilate my present, dissipate my +future, and then it will be permitted to me to live in obscurity! Poor boy, who +comprehends not the sublime things to which my art is wholly devoted! Art thou +not but a tool in my hands?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yet. Master Zacharius,” resumed Aubert, “I have more than +once merited your praise for the manner in which I adjusted the most delicate +parts of your watches and clocks.” +</p> + +<p> +“No doubt, Aubert; thou art a good workman, such as I love; but when thou +workest, thou thinkest thou hast in thy hands but copper, silver, gold; thou +dost not perceive these metals, which my genius animates, palpitating like +living flesh! So that thou wilt not die, with the death of thy works!” +</p> + +<p> +Master Zacharius remained silent after these words; but Aubert essayed to keep +up the conversation. +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed, master,” said he, “I love to see you work so +unceasingly! You will be ready for the festival of our corporation, for I see +that the work on this crystal watch is going forward famously.” +</p> + +<p> +“No doubt, Aubert,” cried the old watchmaker, “and it will be +no slight honour for me to have been able to cut and shape the crystal to the +durability of a diamond! Ah, Louis Berghem did well to perfect the art of +diamond-cutting, which has enabled me to polish and pierce the hardest +stones!” +</p> + +<p> +Master Zacharius was holding several small watch pieces of cut crystal, and of +exquisite workmanship. The wheels, pivots, and case of the watch were of the +same material, and he had employed remarkable skill in this very difficult +task. +</p> + +<p> +“Would it not be fine,” said he, his face flushing, “to see +this watch palpitating beneath its transparent envelope, and to be able to +count the beatings of its heart?” +</p> + +<p> +“I will wager, sir,” replied the young apprentice, “that it +will not vary a second in a year.” +</p> + +<p> +“And you would wager on a certainty! Have I not imparted to it all that +is purest of myself? And does my heart vary? My heart, I say?” +</p> + +<p> +Aubert did not dare to lift his eyes to his master’s face. +</p> + +<p> +“Tell me frankly,” said the old man sadly. “Have you never +taken me for a madman? Do you not think me sometimes subject to dangerous +folly? Yes; is it not so? In my daughter’s eyes and yours, I have often +read my condemnation. Oh!” he cried, as if in pain, “to be +misunderstood by those whom one most loves in the world! But I will prove +victoriously to thee, Aubert, that I am right! Do not shake thy head, for thou +wilt be astounded. The day on 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!” +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<a name="image18"></a> +<img src="images/image18.jpg" width="418" height="600" alt="[Illustration: ]" /> +<p class="caption">“Thou wilt see that I have discovered the secrets of +existence.” +</p> +</div> + +<p> +As he spoke thus, Master Zacharius appeared superb in his vanity. His eyes +glittered with a supernatural fire, and his pride illumined every feature. And +truly, if ever vanity was excusable, it was that of Master Zacharius! +</p> + +<p> +The watchmaking art, indeed, down to his time, had remained almost in its +infancy. From the day when Plato, four centuries before the Christian era, +invented the night watch, a sort of clepsydra which indicated the hours of the +night by the sound and playing 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 time imperfectly, but was still a +masterpiece. When the artist’s imagination was not directed to the +perfection of modelling, it set to work to create clocks with moving figures +and melodious sounds, whose appearance took all attention. Besides, who +troubled himself, in those days, with regulating the advance of time? The +delays of the law were not as yet invented; the physical and astronomical +sciences had not as yet established their calculations on scrupulously exact +measurements; there were neither establishments which were shut at a given +hour, nor trains which departed at a precise moment. In the evening the curfew +bell sounded; and at night the hours were cried amid the universal silence. +Certainly people did not live so long, if existence is measured by the amount +of business done; but they lived better. The mind was enriched with the noble +sentiments born of the contemplation of chefs-d’oeuvré. They built a +church in two centuries, a painter painted but few pictures in the course of +his life, a poet only composed one great work; but these were so many +masterpieces for after-ages to appreciate. +</p> + +<p> +When the exact sciences began at last to make some progress, watch and clock +making followed in their path, though it was always arrested by an +insurmountable difficulty,—the regular and continuous measurement of +time. +</p> + +<p> +It was in the midst of this stagnation that Master Zacharius invented the +escapement, which enabled him to obtain a mathematical regularity by submitting +the movement of the pendulum to a sustained force. This invention had turned +the old man’s head. Pride, swelling in his heart, like mercury in the +thermometer, had attained the height of transcendent folly. By analogy he had +allowed himself to be drawn to materialistic conclusions, and as he constructed +his watches, he fancied that he had discovered the secrets of the union of the +soul with the body. +</p> + +<p> +Thus, on this day, perceiving that Aubert listened to him attentively, he said +to him in a tone of simple conviction,— +</p> + +<p> +“Dost thou know what life is, my child? Hast thou comprehended the action +of those springs which produce existence? Hast thou examined thyself? No. And +yet, with the eyes of science, thou mightest have seen the intimate relation +which exists between God’s work and my own; for it is from his creature +that I have copied the combinations of the wheels of my clocks.” +</p> + +<p> +“Master,” replied Aubert eagerly, “can you compare a copper +or steel machine with that breath of God which is called the soul, which +animates our bodies as the breeze stirs the flowers? What mechanism could be so +adjusted as to inspire us with thought?” +</p> + +<p> +“That is not the question,” responded Master Zacharius gently, but +with all the obstinacy of a blind man walking towards an abyss. “In order +to understand me, thou must recall the purpose of the escapement which I have +invented. When I saw the irregular working of clocks, I understood that the +movements shut up in them did not suffice, and that it was necessary to submit +them to the regularity of some independent force. I then thought that the +balance-wheel might accomplish this, and I succeeded in regulating the +movement! Now, was it not a sublime idea that came to me, to return to it its +lost force by the action of the clock itself, which it was charged with +regulating?” +</p> + +<p> +Aubert made a sign of assent. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, Aubert,” continued the old man, growing animated, “cast +thine eyes upon thyself! Dost thou not understand that there are two distinct +forces in us, that of the soul and that of the body—that is, a movement +and a regulator? The soul is the principle of life; that is, then, the +movement. Whether it is produced by a weight, by a spring, or by an immaterial +influence, it is none the less in the heart. But without the body this movement +would be unequal, irregular, impossible! Thus the body regulates the soul, and, +like the balance-wheel, it is submitted to regular oscillations. And this is so +true, that one falls ill when one’s drink, food, sleep—in a word, +the functions of the body—are not properly regulated; just as in my +watches the soul renders to the body the force lost by its oscillations. Well, +what produces this intimate union between soul and body, if not a marvellous +escapement, by which the wheels of the one work into the wheels 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!” +</p> + +<p> +Master Zacharius looked sublime in this hallucination, which carried him to the +ultimate mysteries of the Infinite. But his daughter Gerande, standing on the +threshold of the door, had heard all. She rushed into her father’s arms, +and he pressed her convulsively to his breast. +</p> + +<p> +“What is the matter with thee, my daughter?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“If I had only a spring here,” said she, putting her hand on her +heart, “I would not love you as I do, father.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“Father, what is the matter?” +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<a name="image19"></a> +<img src="images/image19.jpg" width="419" height="600" alt="[Illustration: ]" /> +<p class="caption">“Father, what is the matter?” +</p> +</div> + +<p> +“Help!” cried Aubert. “Scholastique!” +</p> + +<p> +But Scholastique did not come at once. Some one was knocking at the front door; +she had gone to open it, and when she returned to the shop, before she could +open her mouth, the old watchmaker, having recovered his senses, spoke:— +</p> + +<p> +“I divine, my old Scholastique, that you bring me still another of those +accursed watches which have stopped.” +</p> + +<p> +“Lord, it is true enough!” replied Scholastique, handing a watch to +Aubert. +</p> + +<p> +“My heart could not be mistaken!” said the old man, with a sigh. +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile Aubert carefully wound up the watch, but it would not go. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="zach_03"></a>CHAPTER III.<br/> +A STRANGE VISIT.</h2> + +<p> +Poor Gerande would have lost her life with that of her father, had it not been +for the thought of Aubert, who still attached her to the world. +</p> + +<p> +The old watchmaker was, little by little, passing away. His faculties evidently +grew more feeble, as he concentrated them on a single thought. By a sad +association of ideas, he referred everything to his monomania, and a human +existence seemed to have departed from him, to give place to the extra-natural +existence of the intermediate powers. Moreover, certain malicious rivals +revived the sinister rumours which had spread concerning his labours. +</p> + +<p> +The news of the strange derangements which his watches betrayed had a +prodigious effect upon the master clockmakers of Geneva. What signified this +sudden paralysis of their wheels, and why these strange relations which they +seemed to have with the old man’s life? These were the kind of mysteries +which people never contemplate without a secret terror. In the various classes +of the town, from the apprentice to the great lord who used the watches of the +old horologist, there was no one who could not himself judge of the singularity +of the fact. The citizens wished, but in vain, to get to see Master Zacharius. +He fell very ill; and this enabled his daughter to withdraw him from those +incessant visits which had degenerated into reproaches and recriminations. +</p> + +<p> +Medicines and physicians were powerless in presence of this organic 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. +</p> + +<p> +A custom existed in those days of publicly exhibiting the works of the masters. +The heads of the various corporations sought to distinguish themselves by the +novelty or the perfection of their productions; and it was among these that the +condition of Master Zacharius excited the most lively, because most interested, +commiseration. His rivals pitied him the more willingly because they feared him +the less. They never forgot the old man’s success, when he exhibited his +magnificent clocks with moving figures, his repeaters, which provoked general +admiration, and commanded such high prices in the cities of France, +Switzerland, and Germany. +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile, thanks to the constant and tender care of Gerande and Aubert, his +strength seemed to return a little; and in the tranquillity in which his +convalescence left him, he succeeded in detaching himself from the thoughts +which had absorbed him. As soon as he could walk, his daughter lured him away +from the house, which was still besieged with dissatisfied customers. Aubert +remained in the shop, vainly adjusting and readjusting the rebel watches; and +the poor boy, completely mystified, sometimes covered his face with his hands, +fearful that he, like his master, might go mad. +</p> + +<p> +Gerande led her father towards the more pleasant promenades of the town. With +his arm resting on hers, she conducted him sometimes through the quarter of +Saint Antoine, the view from which extends towards the Cologny hill, and over +the lake; on fine mornings they caught sight of the gigantic peaks of Mount +Buet against the horizon. Gerande pointed out these spots to her father, who +had well-nigh forgotten even their names. His memory wandered; and he took a +childish interest in learning anew what had passed from his mind. Master +Zacharius leaned upon his daughter; and the two heads, one white as snow and +the other covered with rich golden tresses, met in the same ray of sunlight. +</p> + +<p> +So it came about that the old watchmaker at last perceived that he was not +alone in the world. As he looked upon his young and lovely daughter, and on +himself old and broken, he reflected that after his death she would be left +alone without support. Many of the young mechanics of Geneva had already sought +to win Gerande’s love; but none of them had succeeded in gaining access +to the impenetrable retreat of the watchmaker’s household. It was +natural, then, that during this lucid interval, the old man’s choice +should fall on Aubert Thun. Once struck with this thought, he remarked to +himself that this young couple had been brought up with the same ideas and the +same beliefs; and the oscillations of their hearts seemed to him, as he said +one day to Scholastique, “isochronous.” +</p> + +<p> +The old servant, literally delighted with the word, though she did not +understand it, swore by her holy patron saint that the whole town should hear +it within a quarter of an hour. Master Zacharius found it difficult to calm +her; but made her promise to keep on this subject a silence which she never was +known to observe. +</p> + +<p> +So, though Gerande and Aubert were ignorant of it, all Geneva was soon talking +of their speedy union. But it happened also that, while the worthy folk were +gossiping, a strange chuckle was often heard, and a voice saying, +“Gerande will not wed Aubert.” +</p> + +<p> +If the talkers turned round, they found themselves facing a little old man who +was quite a stranger to them. +</p> + +<p> +How old was this singular being? No one could have told. People conjectured +that he must have existed for several centuries, and that was all. His big flat +head rested upon shoulders the width of which was equal to the height of his +body; this was not above three feet. This personage would have made a good +figure to support a pendulum, for the dial would have naturally been placed on +his face, and the balance-wheel would have oscillated at its ease in his chest. +His nose might readily have been taken for the style of a sun-dial, for it was +narrow and sharp; his teeth, far apart, resembled the cogs of a wheel, and +ground themselves between his lips; his voice had the metallic sound of a bell, +and you could hear his heart beat like the tick of a clock. This little man, +whose arms moved like the hands on a dial, walked with jerks, without ever +turning round. If any one followed him, it was found that he walked a league an +hour, and that his course was nearly circular. +</p> + +<p> +This strange being had not long been seen wandering, or rather circulating, +around the town; but it had already been observed that, every day, at the +moment when the sun passed the meridian, he stopped before the Cathedral of +Saint Pierre, and resumed his course after the twelve strokes of noon had +sounded. Excepting at this precise moment, he seemed to become a part of all +the conversations in which the old watchmaker was talked of; and people asked +each other, in terror, what relation could exist between him and Master +Zacharius. It was remarked, too, that he never lost sight of the old man and +his daughter while they were taking their promenades. +</p> + +<p> +One day Gerande perceived this monster looking at her with a hideous smile. She +clung to her father with a frightened motion. +</p> + +<p> +“What is the matter, my Gerande?” asked Master Zacharius. +</p> + +<p> +“I do not know,” replied the young girl. +</p> + +<p> +“But thou art changed, my child. Art thou going to fall ill in thy turn? +Ah, well,” he added, with a sad smile, “then I must take care of +thee, and I will do it tenderly.” +</p> + +<p> +“O father, it will be nothing. I am cold, and I imagine that it +is—” +</p> + +<p> +“What, Gerande?” +</p> + +<p> +“The presence of that man, who always follows us,” she replied in a +low tone. +</p> + +<p> +Master Zacharius turned towards the little old man. +</p> + +<p> +“Faith, he goes well,” said he, with a satisfied air, “for it +is just four o’clock. Fear nothing, my child; it is not a man, it is a +clock!” +</p> + +<p> +Gerande looked at her father in terror. How could Master Zacharius read the +hour on this strange creature’s visage? +</p> + +<p> +“By-the-bye,” continued the old watchmaker, paying no further +attention to the matter, “I have not seen Aubert for several days.” +</p> + +<p> +“He has not left us, however, father,” said Gerande, whose thoughts +turned into a gentler channel. +</p> + +<p> +“What is he doing then?” +</p> + +<p> +“He is working.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah!” cried the old man. “He is at work repairing my watches, +is he not? But he will never succeed; for it is not repair they need, but a +resurrection!” +</p> + +<p> +Gerande remained silent. +</p> + +<p> +“I must know,” added the old man, “if they have brought back +any more of those accursed watches upon which the Devil has sent this +epidemic!” +</p> + +<p> +After these words Master Zacharius fell into complete silence, till he knocked +at the door of his house, and for the first time since his convalescence +descended to his shop, while Gerande sadly repaired to her chamber. +</p> + +<p> +Just as Master Zacharius crossed the threshold of his shop, one of the many +clocks suspended on the wall struck five o’clock. Usually the bells of +these clocks—admirably regulated as they were—struck +simultaneously, and this rejoiced the old man’s heart; but on this day +the bells struck one after another, so that for a quarter of an hour the ear +was deafened by the successive noises. Master Zacharius suffered acutely; he +could not remain still, but went from one clock to the other, and beat the time +to them, like a conductor who no longer has control over his musicians. +</p> + +<p> +When the last had ceased striking, the door of the shop opened, and Master +Zacharius shuddered from head to foot to see before him the little old man, who +looked fixedly at him and said,— +</p> + +<p> +“Master, may I not speak with you a few moments?” +</p> + +<p> +“Who are you?” asked the watchmaker abruptly. +</p> + +<p> +“A colleague. It is my business to regulate the sun.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, you regulate the sun?” replied Master Zacharius eagerly, +without wincing. “I can scarcely compliment you upon it. Your sun goes +badly, and in order to make ourselves agree with it, we have to keep putting +our clocks forward so much or back so much.” +</p> + +<p> +“And by the cloven foot,” cried this weird personage, “you +are right, my master! My sun does not always mark noon at the same moment as +your clocks; but some day it will be known that this is because of the +inequality of the earth’s transfer, and a mean noon will be invented +which will regulate this irregularity!” +</p> + +<p> +“Shall I live till then?” asked the old man, with glistening eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“Without doubt,” replied the little old man, laughing. “Can +you believe that you will ever die?” +</p> + +<p> +“Alas! I am very ill now.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, let us talk of that. By Beelzebub! that will lead to just what I +wish to speak to you about.” +</p> + +<p> +Saying this, the strange being leaped upon the old leather chair, and carried +his legs one under the other, after the fashion of the bones which the painters +of funeral hangings cross beneath death’s heads. Then he resumed, in an +ironical tone,— +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<a name="image20"></a> +<img src="images/image20.jpg" width="418" height="600" alt="[Illustration: ]" /> +<p class="caption">Then he resumed, in an ironical tone +</p> +</div> + +<p> +“Let us see, Master Zacharius, what is going on in this good town of +Geneva? They say that your health is failing, that your watches have need of a +doctor!” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, do you believe that there is an intimate relation between their +existence and mine?” cried Master Zacharius. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, I imagine that these watches have faults, even vices. If these +wantons do not preserve a regular conduct, it is right that they should bear +the consequences of their irregularity. It seems to me that they have need of +reforming a little!” +</p> + +<p> +“What do you call faults?” asked Master Zacharius, reddening at the +sarcastic tone in which these words were uttered. “Have they not a right +to be proud of their origin?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not too proud, not too proud,” replied the little old man. +“They bear a celebrated name, and an illustrious signature is graven on +their cases, it is true, and theirs is the exclusive privilege of being +introduced among the noblest families; but for some time they have got out of +order, and you can do nothing in the matter, Master Zacharius; and the +stupidest apprentice in Geneva could prove it to you!” +</p> + +<p> +“To me, to me,—Master Zacharius!” cried the old man, with a +flush of outraged pride. +</p> + +<p> +“To you, Master Zacharius,—you, who cannot restore life to your +watches!” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“Very well, they will die with you, since you cannot impart a little +elasticity to their springs.” +</p> + +<p> +“Die! No, for you yourself have said it! I cannot die,—I, the first +watchmaker in the world; I, who, by means of these pieces and diverse wheels, +have been able to regulate the movement with absolute precision! Have I not +subjected time to exact laws, and can I not dispose of it like a despot? Before +a sublime genius had arranged these wandering hours regularly, in what vast +uncertainty was human destiny plunged? At what certain moment could the acts of +life be connected with each other? But you, man or devil, whatever you may be, +have never considered the magnificence of my art, which calls every science to +its aid! No, no! I, Master Zacharius, cannot die, for, as I have regulated +time, time would end with me! It would return to the infinite, whence my genius +has rescued it, and it would lose itself irreparably in the abyss of +nothingness! No, I can no more die than the Creator of this universe, that +submitted to His laws! I have become His equal, and I have partaken of His +power! If God has created eternity, Master Zacharius has created time!” +</p> + +<p> +The old watchmaker now resembled the fallen angel, defiant in the presence of +the Creator. The little old man gazed at him, and even seemed to breathe into +him this impious transport. +</p> + +<p> +“Well said, master,” he replied. “Beelzebub had less right +than you to compare himself with God! Your glory must not perish! So your +servant here desires to give you the method of controlling these rebellious +watches.” +</p> + +<p> +“What is it? what is it?” cried Master Zacharius. +</p> + +<p> +“You shall know on the day after that on which you have given me your +daughter’s hand.” +</p> + +<p> +“My Gerande?” +</p> + +<p> +“Herself!” +</p> + +<p> +“My daughter’s heart is not free,” replied Master Zacharius, +who seemed neither astonished nor shocked at the strange demand. +</p> + +<p> +“Bah! She is not the least beautiful of watches; but she will end by +stopping also—” +</p> + +<p> +“My daughter,—my Gerande! No!” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, return to your watches, Master Zacharius. Adjust and readjust +them. Get ready the marriage of your daughter and your apprentice. Temper your +springs with your best steel. Bless Aubert and the pretty Gerande. But +remember, your watches will never go, and Gerande will not wed Aubert!” +</p> + +<p> +Thereupon the little old man disappeared, but not so quickly that Master +Zacharius could not hear six o’clock strike in his breast. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="zach_04"></a>CHAPTER IV.<br/> +THE CHURCH OF SAINT PIERRE.</h2> + +<p> +Meanwhile Master Zacharius became more feeble in mind and body every day. An +unusual excitement, indeed, impelled him to continue his work more eagerly than +ever, nor could his daughter entice him from it. +</p> + +<p> +His pride was still more aroused after the crisis to which his strange visitor +had hurried him so treacherously, and he resolved to overcome, by the force of +genius, the malign influence which weighed upon his work and himself. He first +repaired to the various clocks of the town which were confided to his care. He +made sure, by a scrupulous examination, that the wheels were in good condition, +the pivots firm, the weights exactly balanced. Every part, even to the bells, +was examined with the minute attention of a physician studying the breast of a +patient. Nothing indicated that these clocks were on the point of being +affected by inactivity. +</p> + +<p> +Gerande and Aubert often accompanied the old man on these visits. He would no +doubt have been pleased to see them eager to go with him, and certainly he +would not have been so much absorbed in his approaching end, had he thought +that his existence was to be prolonged by that of these cherished ones, and had +he understood that something of the life of a father always remains in his +children. +</p> + +<p> +The old watchmaker, on returning home, resumed his labours with feverish zeal. +Though persuaded that he would not succeed, it yet seemed to him impossible +that this could be so, and he unceasingly took to pieces the watches which were +brought to his shop, and put them together again. +</p> + +<p> +Aubert tortured his mind in vain to discover the causes of the evil. +</p> + +<p> +“Master,” said he, “this can only come from the wear of the +pivots and gearing.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you want, then, to kill me, little by little?” replied Master +Zacharius passionately. “Are these watches child’s work? Was it +lest I should hurt my fingers that I worked the surface of these copper pieces +in the lathe? Have I not forged these pieces of copper myself, so as to obtain +a greater strength? Are not these springs tempered to a rare perfection? Could +anybody have used finer oils than mine? You must yourself agree that it is +impossible, and you avow, in short, that the devil is in it!” +</p> + +<p> +From morning till night discontented purchasers besieged the house, and they +got access to the old watchmaker himself, who knew not which of them to listen +to. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<a name="image21"></a> +<img src="images/image21.jpg" width="420" height="600" alt="[Illustration: ]" /> +<p class="caption">From morning till night discontented purchasers besieged the +house +</p> +</div> + +<p> +“This watch loses, and I cannot succeed in regulating it,” said +one. +</p> + +<p> +“This,” said another, “is absolutely obstinate, and stands +still, as did Joshua’s sun.” +</p> + +<p> +“If it is true,” said most of them, “that your health has an +influence on that of your watches, Master Zacharius, get well as soon as +possible.” +</p> + +<p> +The old man gazed at these people with haggard eyes, and only replied by +shaking his head, or by a few sad words,— +</p> + +<p> +“Wait till the first fine weather, my friends. The season is coming which +revives existence in wearied bodies. We want the sun to warm us all!” +</p> + +<p> +“A fine thing, if my watches are to be ill through the winter!” +said one of the most angry. “Do you know, Master Zacharius, that your +name is inscribed in full on their faces? By the Virgin, you do little honour +to your signature!” +</p> + +<p> +It happened at last that the old man, abashed by these reproaches, took some +pieces of gold from his old trunk, and began to buy back the damaged watches. +At news of this, the customers came in a crowd, and the poor watchmaker’s +money fast melted away; but his honesty remained intact. Gerande warmly praised +his delicacy, which was leading him straight towards ruin; and Aubert soon +offered his own savings to his master. +</p> + +<p> +“What will become of my daughter?” said Master Zacharius, clinging +now and then in the shipwreck to his paternal love. +</p> + +<p> +Aubert dared not answer that he was full of hope for the future, and of deep +devotion to Gerande. Master Zacharius would have that day called him his +son-in-law, and thus refuted the sad prophecy, which still buzzed in his +ears,— +</p> + +<p> +“Gerande will not wed Aubert.” +</p> + +<p> +By this plan the watchmaker at last succeeded in entirely despoiling himself. +His antique vases passed into the hands of strangers; he deprived himself of +the richly-carved panels which adorned the walls of his house; some primitive +pictures of the early Flemish painters soon ceased to please his +daughter’s eyes, and everything, even the precious tools that his genius +had invented, were sold to indemnify the clamorous customers. +</p> + +<p> +Scholastique alone refused to listen to reason on the subject; but her efforts +failed to prevent the unwelcome visitors from reaching her master, and from +soon departing with some valuable object. Then her chattering was heard in all +the streets of the neighbourhood, where she had long been known. She eagerly +denied the rumours of sorcery and magic on the part of Master Zacharius, which +gained currency; but as at bottom she was persuaded of their truth, she said +her prayers over and over again to redeem her pious falsehoods. +</p> + +<p> +It had been noticed that for some time the old watchmaker had neglected his +religious duties. Time was, when he had accompanied Gerande to church, and had +seemed to find in prayer the intellectual charm which it imparts to thoughtful +minds, since it is the most sublime exercise of the imagination. This voluntary +neglect of holy practices, added to the secret habits of his life, had in some +sort confirmed the accusations levelled against his labours. So, with the +double purpose of drawing her father back to God, and to the world, Gerande +resolved to call religion to her aid. She thought that it might give some +vitality to his dying soul; but the dogmas of faith and humility had to combat, +in the soul of Master Zacharius, an insurmountable pride, and came into +collision with that vanity of science which connects everything with itself, +without rising to the infinite source whence first principles flow. +</p> + +<p> +It was under these circumstances that the young girl undertook her +father’s conversion; and her influence was so effective that the old +watchmaker promised to attend high mass at the cathedral on the following +Sunday. Gerande was in an ecstasy, as if heaven had opened to her view. Old +Scholastique could not contain her joy, and at last found irrefutable +arguments’ against the gossiping tongues which accused her master of +impiety. She spoke of it to her neighbours, her friends, her enemies, to those +whom she knew not as well as to those whom she knew. +</p> + +<p> +“In faith, we scarcely believe what you tell us, dame +Scholastique,” they replied; “Master Zacharius has always acted in +concert with the devil!” +</p> + +<p> +“You haven’t counted, then,” replied the old servant, +“the fine bells which strike for my master’s clocks? How many times +they have struck the hours of prayer and the mass!” +</p> + +<p> +“No doubt,” they would reply. “But has he not invented +machines which go all by themselves, and which actually do the work of a real +man?” +</p> + +<p> +“Could a child of the devil,” exclaimed dame Scholastique +wrathfully, “have executed the fine iron clock of the château of +Andernatt, which the town of Geneva was not rich enough to buy? A pious motto +appeared at each hour, and a Christian who obeyed them, would have gone +straight to Paradise! Is that the work of the devil?” +</p> + +<p> +This masterpiece, made twenty years before, had carried Master +Zacharius’s fame to its acme; but even then there had been accusations of +sorcery against him. But at least the old man’s visit to the Cathedral +ought to reduce malicious tongues to silence. +</p> + +<p> +Master Zacharius, having doubtless forgotten the promise made to his daughter, +had returned to his shop. After being convinced of his powerlessness to give +life to his watches, he resolved to try if he could not make some new ones. He +abandoned all those useless works, and devoted himself to the completion of the +crystal watch, which he intended to be his masterpiece; but in vain did he use +his most perfect tools, and employ rubies and diamonds for resisting friction. +The watch fell from his hands the first time that he attempted to wind it up! +</p> + +<p> +The old man concealed this circumstance from every one, even from his daughter; +but from that time his health rapidly declined. There were only the last +oscillations of a pendulum, which goes slower when nothing restores its +original force. It seemed as if the laws of gravity, acting directly upon him, +were dragging him irresistibly down to the grave. +</p> + +<p> +The Sunday so ardently anticipated by Gerande at last arrived. The weather was +fine, and the temperature inspiriting. The people of Geneva were passing +quietly through the streets, gaily chatting about the return of spring. +Gerande, tenderly taking the old man’s arm, directed her steps towards +the cathedral, while Scholastique followed behind with the prayer-books. People +looked curiously at them as they passed. The old watchmaker permitted himself +to be led like a child, or rather like a blind man. The faithful of Saint +Pierre were almost frightened when they saw him cross the threshold, and shrank +back at his approach. +</p> + +<p> +The chants of high mass were already resounding through the church. Gerande +went to her accustomed bench, and kneeled with profound and simple reverence. +Master Zacharius remained standing upright beside her. +</p> + +<p> +The ceremonies continued with the majestic solemnity of that faithful age, but +the old man had no faith. He did not implore the pity of Heaven with cries of +anguish of the “Kyrie;” he did not, with the “Gloria in +Excelsis,” sing the splendours of the heavenly heights; the reading of +the Testament did not draw him from his materialistic reverie, and he forgot to +join in the homage of the “Credo.” This proud old man remained +motionless, as insensible and silent as a stone statue; and even at the solemn +moment when the bell announced the miracle of transubstantiation, he did not +bow his head, but gazed directly at the sacred host which the priest raised +above the heads of the faithful. Gerande looked 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 +which still spoke. It seemed to him as if its face was gazing steadily at him; +the figures of the hours shone as if they had been engraved in lines of fire, +and the hands shot forth electric sparks from their sharp points. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<a name="image22"></a> +<img src="images/image22.jpg" width="416" height="600" alt="[Illustration: ]" /> +<p class="caption">This proud old man remained motionless +</p> +</div> + +<p> +The mass ended. It was customary for the “Angelus” to be said at +noon, and the priests, before leaving the altar, waited for the clock to strike +the hour of twelve. In a few moments this prayer would ascend to the feet of +the Virgin. +</p> + +<p> +But suddenly a harsh noise was heard. Master Zacharius uttered a piercing cry. +</p> + +<p> +The large hand of the clock, having reached twelve, had abruptly stopped, and +the clock did not strike the hour. +</p> + +<p> +Gerande hastened to her father’s aid. He had fallen down motionless, and +they carried him outside the church. +</p> + +<p> +“It is the death-blow!” murmured Gerande, sobbing. +</p> + +<p> +When he had been borne home, Master Zacharius lay upon his bed utterly crushed. +Life seemed only to still exist on the surface of his body, like the last +whiffs of smoke about a lamp just extinguished. When he came to his senses, +Aubert and Gerande were leaning over him. In these last moments the future took +in his eyes the shape of the present. He saw his daughter alone, without a +protector. +</p> + +<p> +“My son,” said he to Aubert, “I give my daughter to +thee.” +</p> + +<p> +So saying, he stretched out his hands towards his two children, who were thus +united at his death-bed. +</p> + +<p> +But soon Master Zacharius lifted himself up in a paroxysm of rage. The words of +the little old man recurred to his mind. +</p> + +<p> +“I do not wish to die!” he cried; “I cannot die! I, Master +Zacharius, ought not to die! My books—my accounts!—” +</p> + +<p> +With these words he sprang from his bed towards a book in which the names of +his customers and the articles which had been sold to them were inscribed. He +seized it and rapidly turned over its leaves, and his emaciated finger fixed +itself on one of the pages. +</p> + +<p> +“There!” he cried, “there! this old iron clock, sold to +Pittonaccio! 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 must find it! I +will take such care of it that death will no longer seek me!” +</p> + +<p> +And he fainted away. +</p> + +<p> +Aubert and Gerande knelt by the old man’s bed-side and prayed together. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="zach_05"></a>CHAPTER V.<br/> +THE HOUR OF DEATH.</h2> + +<p> +Several days passed, and Master Zacharius, though almost dead, rose from his +bed and returned to active life under a supernatural excitement. He lived by +pride. But Gerande did not deceive herself; her father’s body and soul +were for ever lost. +</p> + +<p> +The old man got together his last remaining resources, without thought of those +who were dependent upon him. He betrayed an incredible energy, walking, +ferreting about, and mumbling strange, incomprehensible words. +</p> + +<p> +One morning Gerande went down to his shop. Master Zacharius was not there. She +waited for him all day. Master Zacharius did not return. +</p> + +<p> +Gerande wept bitterly, but her father did not reappear. +</p> + +<p> +Aubert searched everywhere through the town, and soon came to the sad +conviction that the old man had left it. +</p> + +<p> +“Let us find my father!” cried Gerande, when the young apprentice +told her this sad news. +</p> + +<p> +“Where can he be?” Aubert asked himself. +</p> + +<p> +An inspiration suddenly came to his mind. He remembered the last words which +Master Zacharius had spoken. The old man only lived now in the old iron clock +that had not been returned! Master Zacharius must have gone in search of it. +</p> + +<p> +Aubert spoke of this to Gerande. +</p> + +<p> +“Let us look at my father’s book,” she replied. +</p> + +<p> +They descended to the shop. The book was open on the bench. All the watches or +clocks made by the old man, and which had been returned to him because they +were out of order, were stricken out excepting one:— +</p> + +<p> +“Sold to M. Pittonaccio, an iron clock, with bell and moving figures; +sent to his château at Andernatt.” +</p> + +<p> +It was this “moral” clock of which Scholastique had spoken with so +much enthusiasm. +</p> + +<p> +“My father is there!” cried Gerande. +</p> + +<p> +“Let us hasten thither,” replied Aubert. “We may still save +him!” +</p> + +<p> +“Not for this life,” murmured Gerande, “but at least for the +other.” +</p> + +<p> +“By the mercy of God, Gerande! The château of Andernatt stands in the +gorge of the ‘Dents-du-Midi’ twenty hours from Geneva. Let us +go!” +</p> + +<p> +That very evening Aubert and Gerande, followed by the old servant, set out on +foot by the road which skirts Lake Leman. They accomplished five leagues during +the night, stopping neither at Bessinge nor at Ermance, where rises the famous +château of the Mayors. They with difficulty forded the torrent of the Dranse, +and everywhere they went they inquired for Master Zacharius, and were soon +convinced that they were on his track. +</p> + +<p> +The next morning, at daybreak, having passed Thonon, they reached Evian, whence +the Swiss territory may be seen extended over twelve leagues. But the two +betrothed did not even perceive the enchanting prospect. They went straight +forward, urged on by a supernatural force. Aubert, leaning on a knotty stick, +offered his arm alternately to Gerande and to Scholastique, and he made the +greatest efforts to sustain his companions. All three talked of their sorrow, +of their hopes, and thus passed along the beautiful road by the water-side, and +across the narrow plateau which unites the borders of the lake with the heights +of the Chalais. They soon reached Bouveret, where the Rhone enters the Lake of +Geneva. +</p> + +<p> +On leaving this town they diverged from the lake, and their weariness increased +amid these mountain districts. Vionnaz, Chesset, Collombay, half lost villages, +were soon left behind. Meanwhile their knees shook, their feet were lacerated +by the sharp points which covered the ground like a brushwood of +granite;—but no trace of Master Zacharius! +</p> + +<p> +He must be found, however, and the two young people did not seek repose either +in the isolated hamlets or at the château of Monthay, which, with its +dependencies, formed the appanage of Margaret of Savoy. At last, late in the +day, and half dead with fatigue, they reached the hermitage of +Notre-Dame-du-Sex, which is situated at the base of the Dents-du-Midi, six +hundred feet above the Rhone. +</p> + +<p> +The hermit received the three wanderers as night was falling. They could not +have gone another step, and here they must needs rest. +</p> + +<p> +The hermit could give them no news of Master Zacharius. They could scarcely +hope to find him still living amid these sad solitudes. The night was dark, the +wind howled amid the mountains, and the avalanches roared down from the summits +of the broken crags. +</p> + +<p> +Aubert and Gerande, crouching before the hermit’s hearth, told him their +melancholy tale. Their mantles, covered with snow, were drying in a corner; and +without, the hermit’s dog barked lugubriously, and mingled his voice with +that of the tempest. +</p> + +<p> +“Pride,” said the hermit to his guests, “has destroyed an +angel created for good. It is the stumbling-block against which the destinies +of man strike. You cannot reason with pride, the principal of all the vices, +since, by its very nature, the proud man refuses to listen to it. It only +remains, then, to pray for your father!” +</p> + +<p> +All four knelt down, when the barking of the dog redoubled, and some one +knocked at the door of the hermitage. +</p> + +<p> +“Open, in the devil’s name!” +</p> + +<p> +The door yielded under the blows, and a dishevelled, haggard, ill-clothed man +appeared. +</p> + +<p> +“My father!” cried Gerande. +</p> + +<p> +It was Master Zacharius. +</p> + +<p> +“Where am I?” said he. “In eternity! Time is ended—the +hours no longer strike—the hands have stopped!” +</p> + +<p> +“Father!” returned Gerande, with so piteous an emotion that the old +man seemed to return to the world of the living. +</p> + +<p> +“Thou here, Gerande?” he cried; “and thou, Aubert? Ah, my +dear betrothed ones, you are going to be married in our old church!” +</p> + +<p> +“Father,” said Gerande, seizing him by the arm, “come home to +Geneva,—come with us!” +</p> + +<p> +The old man tore away from his daughter’s embrace and hurried towards the +door, on the threshold of which the snow was falling in large flakes. +</p> + +<p> +“Do not abandon your children!” cried Aubert. +</p> + +<p> +“Why return,” replied the old man sadly, “to those places +which my life has already quitted, and where a part of myself is for ever +buried?” +</p> + +<p> +“Your soul is not dead,” said the hermit solemnly. +</p> + +<p> +“My soul? O no,—its wheels are good! I perceive it beating +regularly—” +</p> + +<p> +“Your soul is immaterial,—your soul is immortal!” replied the +hermit sternly. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes—like my glory! But it is shut up in the château of Andernatt, +and I wish to see it again!” +</p> + +<p> +The hermit crossed himself; Scholastique became almost inanimate. Aubert held +Gerande in his arms. +</p> + +<p> +“The château of Andernatt is inhabited by one who is lost,” said +the hermit, “one who does not salute the cross of my hermitage.” +</p> + +<p> +“My father, go not thither!” +</p> + +<p> +“I want my soul! My soul is mine—” +</p> + +<p> +“Hold him! Hold my father!” cried Gerande. +</p> + +<p> +But the old man had leaped across the threshold, and plunged into the night, +crying, “Mine, mine, my soul!” +</p> + +<p> +Gerande, Aubert, and Scholastique hastened after him. They went by difficult +paths, across which Master Zacharius sped like a tempest, urged by an +irresistible force. The snow raged around them, and mingled its white flakes +with the froth of the swollen torrents. +</p> + +<p> +As they passed the chapel erected in memory of the massacre of the Theban +legion, they hurriedly crossed themselves. Master Zacharius was not to be seen. +</p> + +<p> +At last the village of Evionnaz appeared in the midst of this sterile region. +The hardest heart would have been moved to see this hamlet, lost among these +horrible solitudes. The old man sped on, and plunged into the deepest gorge of +the Dents-du-Midi, which pierce the sky with their sharp peaks. +</p> + +<p> +Soon a ruin, old and gloomy as the rocks at its base, rose before him. +</p> + +<p> +“It is there—there!” he cried, hastening his pace still more +frantically. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<a name="image23"></a> +<img src="images/image23.jpg" width="426" height="600" alt="[Illustration: ]" /> +<p class="caption">“It is there—there!” +</p> +</div> + +<p> +The château of Andernatt was a ruin even then. A thick, crumbling tower rose +above it, and seemed to menace with its downfall the old gables which reared +themselves below. The vast piles of jagged stones were gloomy to look on. +Several dark halls appeared amid the debris, with caved-in ceilings, now become +the abode of vipers. +</p> + +<p> +A low and narrow postern, opening upon a ditch choked with rubbish, gave access +to the château. Who had dwelt there none knew. No doubt some margrave, half +lord, half brigand, had sojourned in it; to the margrave had succeeded bandits +or counterfeit coiners, who had been hanged on the scene of their crime. The +legend went that, on winter nights, Satan came to lead his diabolical dances on +the slope of the deep gorges in which the shadow of these ruins was engulfed. +</p> + +<p> +But Master Zacharius was not dismayed by their sinister aspect. He reached the +postern. No one forbade him to pass. A spacious and gloomy court presented +itself to his eyes; no one forbade him to cross it. He passed along the kind of +inclined plane which conducted to one of the long corridors, whose arches +seemed to banish daylight from beneath their heavy springings. His advance was +unresisted. Gerande, Aubert, and Scholastique closely followed him. +</p> + +<p> +Master Zacharius, as if guided by an irresistible hand, seemed sure of his way, +and strode along with rapid step. He reached an old worm-eaten door, which fell +before his blows, whilst the bats described oblique circles around his head. +</p> + +<p> +An immense hall, better preserved than the rest, was soon reached. High +sculptured panels, on which serpents, ghouls, and other strange figures seemed +to disport themselves confusedly, covered its walls. Several long and narrow +windows, like loopholes, shivered beneath the bursts of the tempest. +</p> + +<p> +Master Zacharius, on reaching the middle of this hall, uttered a cry of joy. +</p> + +<p> +On an iron support, fastened to the wall, stood the clock in which now resided +his entire life. This unequalled masterpiece represented an ancient Roman +church, with buttresses of wrought iron, with its heavy bell-tower, where there +was a complete chime for the anthem of the day, the “Angelus,” the +mass, vespers, compline, and the benediction. Above the church door, which +opened at the hour of the services, was placed a “rose,” in the +centre of which two hands moved, and the archivault of which reproduced the +twelve hours of the face sculptured in relief. Between the door and the rose, +just as Scholastique had said, a maxim, relative to the employment of every +moment of the day, appeared on a copper plate. Master Zacharius had once +regulated this succession of devices with a really Christian solicitude; the +hours of prayer, of work, of repast, of recreation, and of repose, followed +each other according to the religious discipline, and were to infallibly insure +salvation to him who scrupulously observed their commands. +</p> + +<p> +Master Zacharius, intoxicated with joy, went forward to take possession of the +clock, when a frightful roar of laughter resounded behind him. +</p> + +<p> +He turned, and by the light of a smoky lamp recognized the little old man of +Geneva. +</p> + +<p> +“You here?” cried he. +</p> + +<p> +Gerande was afraid. She drew closer to Aubert. +</p> + +<p> +“Good-day, Master Zacharius,” said the monster. +</p> + +<p> +“Who are you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Signor Pittonaccio, at your service! You have come to give me your +daughter! You have remembered my words, ‘Gerande will not wed +Aubert.’” +</p> + +<p> +The young apprentice rushed upon Pittonaccio, who escaped from him like a +shadow. +</p> + +<p> +“Stop, Aubert!” cried Master Zacharius. +</p> + +<p> +“Good-night,” said Pittonaccio, and he disappeared. +</p> + +<p> +“My father, let us fly from this hateful place!” cried Gerande. +“My father!” +</p> + +<p> +Master Zacharius was no longer there. He was pursuing the phantom of +Pittonaccio across the rickety corridors. Scholastique, Gerande, and Aubert +remained, speechless and fainting, in the large gloomy hall. The young girl had +fallen upon a stone seat; the old servant knelt beside her, and prayed; Aubert +remained erect, watching his betrothed. Pale lights wandered in the darkness, +and the silence was only broken by the movements of the little animals which +live in old wood, and the noise of which marks the hours of “death +watch.” +</p> + +<p> +When daylight came, they ventured upon the endless staircase which wound +beneath these ruined masses; for two hours they wandered thus without meeting a +living soul, and hearing only a far-off echo responding to their cries. +Sometimes they found themselves buried a hundred feet below the ground, and +sometimes they reached places whence they could overlook the wild mountains. +</p> + +<p> +Chance brought them at last back again to the vast hall, which had sheltered +them during this night of anguish. It was no longer empty. Master Zacharius and +Pittonaccio were talking there together, the one upright and rigid as a corpse, +the other crouching over a marble table. +</p> + +<p> +Master Zacharius, when he perceived Gerande, went forward and took her by the +hand, and led her towards Pittonaccio, saying, “Behold your lord and +master, my daughter. Gerande, behold your husband!” +</p> + +<p> +Gerande shuddered from head to foot. +</p> + +<p> +“Never!” cried Aubert, “for she is my betrothed.” +</p> + +<p> +“Never!” responded Gerande, like a plaintive echo. +</p> + +<p> +Pittonaccio began to laugh. +</p> + +<p> +“You wish me to die, then!” exclaimed the old man. “There, in +that clock, the last which goes of all which have gone from my hands, my life +is shut up; and this man tells me, ‘When I have thy daughter, this clock +shall belong to thee.’ And this man will not rewind it. He can break it, +and plunge me into chaos. Ah, my daughter, you no longer love me!” +</p> + +<p> +“My father!” murmured Gerande, recovering consciousness. +</p> + +<p> +“If you knew what I have suffered, far away from this principle of my +existence!” resumed the old man. “Perhaps no one looked after this +timepiece. Perhaps its springs were left to wear out, its wheels to get +clogged. But now, in my own hands, I can nourish this health so dear, for I +must not die,—I, the great watchmaker of Geneva. Look, my daughter, how +these hands advance with certain step. See, five o’clock is about to +strike. Listen well, and look at the maxim which is about to be +revealed.” +</p> + +<p> +Five o’clock struck with a noise which resounded sadly in Gerande’s +soul, and these words appeared in red letters: +</p> + +<p class="center"> +“YOU MUST EAT OF THE FRUITS OF THE TREE OF SCIENCE.” +</p> + +<p> +Aubert and Gerande looked at each other stupefied. These were no longer the +pious sayings of the Catholic watchmaker. The breath of Satan must have passed +over it. But Zacharius paid no attention to this, and resumed— +</p> + +<p> +“Dost thou hear, my Gerande? I live, I still live! Listen to my +breathing,—see the blood circulating in my veins! No, thou wouldst not +kill thy father, and thou wilt accept this man for thy husband, so that I may +become immortal, and at last attain the power of God!” +</p> + +<p> +At these blasphemous words old Scholastique crossed herself, and Pittonaccio +laughed aloud with joy. +</p> + +<p> +“And then, Gerande, thou wilt be happy with him. See this man,—he +is Time! Thy existence will be regulated with absolute precision. Gerande, +since I gave thee life, give life to thy father!” +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<a name="image24"></a> +<img src="images/image24.jpg" width="417" height="600" alt="[Illustration: ]" /> +<p class="caption">“See this man,—he is Time!” +</p> +</div> + +<p> +“Gerande,” murmured Aubert, “I am thy betrothed.” +</p> + +<p> +“He is my father!” replied Gerande, fainting. +</p> + +<p> +“She is thine!” said Master Zacharius. “Pittonaccio, them +wilt keep thy promise!” +</p> + +<p> +“Here is the key of the clock,” replied the horrible man. +</p> + +<p> +Master Zacharius seized the long key, which resembled an uncoiled snake, and +ran to the clock, which he hastened to wind up with fantastic rapidity. The +creaking of the spring jarred upon the nerves. The old watchmaker wound and +wound the key, without stopping a moment, and it seemed as if the movement were +beyond his control. He wound more and more quickly, with strange contortions, +until he fell from sheer weariness. +</p> + +<p> +“There, it is wound up for a century!” he cried. +</p> + +<p> +Aubert rushed from the hall as if he were mad. After long wandering, he found +the outlet of the hateful château, and hastened into the open air. He returned +to the hermitage of Notre-Dame-du-Sex, and talked so despairingly to the holy +recluse, that the latter consented to return with him to the château of +Andernatt. +</p> + +<p> +If, during these hours of anguish, Gerande had not wept, it was because her +tears were exhausted. +</p> + +<p> +Master Zacharius had not left the hall. He ran every moment to listen to the +regular beating of the old clock. +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile the clock had struck, and to Scholastique’s great terror, these +words had appeared on the silver face:— +</p> + +<p class="center"> +“MAN OUGHT TO BECOME THE EQUAL OF GOD.” +</p> + +<p> +The old man had not only not been shocked by these impious maxims, but read +them deliriously, and flattered himself with thoughts of pride, whilst +Pittonaccio kept close by him. +</p> + +<p> +The marriage-contract was to be signed at midnight. Gerande, almost +unconscious, saw or heard nothing. The silence was only broken by the old +man’s words, and the chuckling of Pittonaccio. +</p> + +<p> +Eleven o’clock struck. Master Zacharius shuddered, and read in a loud +voice:— +</p> + +<p class="center"> +“MAN SHOULD BE THE SLAVE OF SCIENCE, AND SACRIFICE TO IT RELATIVES +AND FAMILY.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes!” he cried, “there is nothing but science in this +world!” +</p> + +<p> +The hands slipped over the face of the clock with the hiss of a serpent, and +the pendulum beat with accelerated strokes. +</p> + +<p> +Master Zacharius no longer spoke. He had fallen to the floor, his throat +rattled, and from his oppressed bosom came only these half-broken words: +“Life—science!” +</p> + +<p> +The scene had now two new witnesses, the hermit and Aubert. Master Zacharius +lay upon the floor; Gerande was praying beside him, more dead than alive. +</p> + +<p> +Of a sudden a dry, hard noise was heard, which preceded the strike. +</p> + +<p> +Master Zacharius sprang up. +</p> + +<p> +“Midnight!” he cried. +</p> + +<p> +The hermit stretched out his hand towards the old clock,—and midnight did +not sound. +</p> + +<p> +Master Zacharius uttered a terrible cry, which must have been heard in hell, +when these words appeared:— +</p> + +<p class="center"> +“WHO EVER SHALL ATTEMPT TO MAKE HIMSELF THE EQUAL OF GOD, SHALL BE FOR +EVER DAMNED!” +</p> + +<p> +The old clock burst with a noise like thunder, and the spring, escaping, leaped +across the hall with a thousand fantastic contortions; the old man rose, ran +after it, trying in vain to seize it, and exclaiming, “My soul,—my +soul!” +</p> + +<p> +The spring bounded before him, first on one side, then on the other, and he +could not reach it. +</p> + +<p> +At last Pittonaccio seized it, and, uttering a horrible blasphemy, ingulfed +himself in the earth. +</p> + +<p> +Master Zacharius fell backwards. He was dead. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<a name="image25"></a> +<img src="images/image25.jpg" width="423" height="600" alt="[Illustration: ]" /> +<p class="caption">He was dead. +</p> +</div> + +<p> +The old watchmaker was buried in the midst of the peaks of Andernatt. +</p> + +<p> +Then Aubert and Gerande returned to Geneva, and during the long life which God +accorded to them, they made it a duty to redeem by prayer the soul of the +castaway of science. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="drama"></a>A DRAMA IN THE AIR.</h2> + +<p> +In the month of September, 185—, I arrived at Frankfort-on-the-Maine. My +passage through the principal German cities had been brilliantly marked by +balloon ascents; but as yet no German had accompanied me in my car, and the +fine experiments made at Paris by MM. Green, Eugene Godard, and Poitevin had +not tempted the grave Teutons to essay aerial voyages. +</p> + +<p> +But scarcely had the news of my approaching ascent spread through Frankfort, +than three of the principal citizens begged the favour of being allowed to +ascend with me. Two days afterwards we were to start from the Place de la +Comédie. I began at once to get my balloon ready. It was of silk, prepared with +gutta percha, a substance impermeable by acids or gasses; and its volume, which +was three thousand cubic yards, enabled it to ascend to the loftiest heights. +</p> + +<p> +The day of the ascent was that of the great September fair, which attracts so +many people to Frankfort. Lighting gas, of a perfect quality and of great +lifting power, had been furnished to me in excellent condition, and about +eleven o’clock the balloon was filled; but only three-quarters +filled,—an indispensable precaution, for, as one rises, the atmosphere +diminishes in density, and the fluid enclosed within the balloon, acquiring +more elasticity, might burst its sides. My calculations had furnished me with +exactly the quantity of gas necessary to carry up my companions and myself. +</p> + +<p> +We were to start at noon. The impatient crowd which pressed around the enclosed +space, filling the enclosed square, overflowing into the contiguous streets, +and covering the houses from the ground-floor to the slated gables, presented a +striking scene. The high winds of the preceding days had subsided. An +oppressive heat fell from the cloudless sky. Scarcely a breath animated the +atmosphere. In such weather, one might descend again upon the very spot whence +he had risen. +</p> + +<p> +I carried three hundred pounds of ballast in bags; the car, quite round, four +feet in diameter, was comfortably arranged; the hempen cords which supported it +stretched symmetrically over the upper hemisphere of the balloon; the compass +was in place, the barometer suspended in the circle which united the supporting +cords, and the anchor carefully put in order. All was now ready for the ascent. +</p> + +<p> +Among those who pressed around the enclosure, I remarked a young man with a +pale face and agitated features. The sight of him impressed me. He was an eager +spectator of my ascents, whom I had already met in several German cities. With +an uneasy air, he closely watched the curious machine, as it lay motionless a +few feet above the ground; and he remained silent among those about him. +</p> + +<p> +Twelve o’clock came. The moment had arrived, but my travelling companions +did not appear. +</p> + +<p> +I sent to their houses, and learnt that one had left for Hamburg, another for +Vienna, and the third for London. Their courage had failed them at the moment +of undertaking one of those excursions which, thanks to the ability of living +aeronauts, are free from all danger. As they formed, in some sort, a part of +the programme of the day, the fear had seized them that they might be forced to +execute it faithfully, and they had fled far from the scene at the instant when +the balloon was being filled. Their courage was evidently the inverse ratio of +their speed—in decamping. +</p> + +<p> +The multitude, half deceived, showed not a little ill-humour. I did not +hesitate to ascend alone. In order to re-establish the equilibrium between the +specific gravity of the balloon and the weight which had thus proved wanting, I +replaced my companions by more sacks of sand, and got into the car. The twelve +men who held the balloon by twelve cords fastened to the equatorial circle, let +them slip a little between their fingers, and the balloon rose several feet +higher. There was not a breath of wind, and the atmosphere was so leaden that +it seemed to forbid the ascent. +</p> + +<p> +“Is everything ready?” I cried. +</p> + +<p> +The men put themselves in readiness. A last glance told me that I might go. +</p> + +<p> +“Attention!” +</p> + +<p> +There was a movement in the crowd, which seemed to be invading the enclosure. +</p> + +<p> +“Let go!” +</p> + +<p> +The balloon rose slowly, but I experienced a shock which threw me to the bottom +of the car. +</p> + +<p> +When I got up, I found myself face to face with an unexpected +fellow-voyager,—the pale young man. +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur, I salute you,” said he, with the utmost coolness. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<a name="image26"></a> +<img src="images/image26.jpg" width="435" height="600" alt="[Illustration: ]" /> +<p class="caption">“Monsieur, I salute you,” +</p> +</div> + +<p> +“By what right—” +</p> + +<p> +“Am I here? By the right which the impossibility of your getting rid of +me confers.” +</p> + +<p> +I was amazed! His calmness put me out of countenance, and I had nothing to +reply. I looked at the intruder, but he took no notice of my astonishment. +</p> + +<p> +“Does my weight disarrange your equilibrium, monsieur?” he asked. +“You will permit me—” +</p> + +<p> +And without waiting for my consent, he relieved the balloon of two bags, which +he threw into space. +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur,” said I, taking the only course now possible, “you +have come; very well, you will remain; but to me alone belongs the management +of the balloon.” +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur,” said he, “your urbanity is French all over: it +comes from my own country. I morally press the hand you refuse me. Make all +precautions, and act as seems best to you. I will wait till you have +done—” +</p> + +<p> +“For what?” +</p> + +<p> +“To talk with you.” +</p> + +<p> +The barometer had fallen to twenty-six inches. We were nearly six hundred yards +above the city; but nothing betrayed the horizontal displacement of the +balloon, for the mass of air in which it is enclosed goes forward with it. A +sort of confused glow enveloped the objects spread out under us, and +unfortunately obscured their outline. +</p> + +<p> +I examined my companion afresh. +</p> + +<p> +He was a man of thirty years, simply clad. The sharpness of his features +betrayed an indomitable energy, and he seemed very muscular. Indifferent to the +astonishment he created, he remained motionless, trying to distinguish the +objects which were vaguely confused below us. +</p> + +<p> +“Miserable mist!” said he, after a few moments. +</p> + +<p> +I did not reply. +</p> + +<p> +“You owe me a grudge?” he went on. “Bah! I could not pay for +my journey, and it was necessary to take you by surprise.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nobody asks you to descend, monsieur!” +</p> + +<p> +“Eh, do you not know, then, that the same thing happened to the Counts 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. He accomplished the journey, and nobody died of +it!” +</p> + +<p> +“Once on the ground, we will have an explanation,” replied I, +piqued at the light tone in which he spoke. +</p> + +<p> +“Bah! Do not let us think of our return.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you think, then, that I shall not hasten to descend?” +</p> + +<p> +“Descend!” said he, in surprise. “Descend? Let us begin by +first ascending.” +</p> + +<p> +And before I could prevent it, two more bags had been thrown over the car, +without even having been emptied. +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur!” cried I, in a rage. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<a name="image27"></a> +<img src="images/image27.jpg" width="414" height="600" alt="[Illustration: ]" /> +<p class="caption">“Monsieur!” cried I, in a rage. +</p> +</div> + +<p> +“I know your ability,” replied the unknown quietly, “and your +fine ascents are famous. But if Experience is the sister of Practice, she is +also a cousin of Theory, and I have studied the aerial art long. It has got +into my head!” he added sadly, falling into a silent reverie. +</p> + +<p> +The balloon, having risen some distance farther, now became stationary. The +unknown consulted the barometer, and said,— +</p> + +<p> +“Here we are, at eight hundred yards. Men are like insects. See! I think +we should always contemplate them from this height, to judge correctly of their +proportions. The Place de la Comédie is transformed into an immense ant-hill. +Observe the crowd which is gathered on the quays; and the mountains also get +smaller and smaller. We are over the Cathedral. The Main is only a line, +cutting the city in two, and the bridge seems a thread thrown between the two +banks of the river.” +</p> + +<p> +The atmosphere became somewhat chilly. +</p> + +<p> +“There is nothing I would not do for you, my host,” said the +unknown. “If you are cold, I will take off my coat and lend it to +you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Thanks,” said I dryly. +</p> + +<p> +“Bah! Necessity makes law. Give me your hand. I am your +fellow-countryman; you will learn something in my company, and my conversation +will indemnify you for the trouble I have given you.” +</p> + +<p> +I sat down, without replying, at the opposite extremity of the car. The young +man had taken a voluminous manuscript from his great-coat. It was an essay on +ballooning. +</p> + +<p> +“I possess,” said he, “the most curious collection of +engravings and caricatures extant concerning aerial manias. How people admired +and scoffed at the same time at this precious discovery! We are happily no +longer in the age in which Montgolfier tried to make artificial clouds with +steam, or a gas having electrical properties, produced by the combustion of +moist straw and chopped-up wool.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you wish to depreciate the talent of the inventors?” I asked, +for I had resolved to enter into the adventure. “Was it not good to have +proved by experience the possibility of rising in the air?” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, monsieur, who denies the glory of the first aerial navigators? It +required immense courage to rise by means of those frail envelopes which only +contained heated air. But I ask you, has the aerial science made great progress +since Blanchard’s ascensions, that is, since nearly a century ago? Look +here, monsieur.” +</p> + +<p> +The unknown took an engraving from his portfolio. +</p> + +<p> +“Here,” said he, “is the first aerial voyage undertaken by +Pilâtre des Rosiers and the Marquis d’Arlandes, four months after the +discovery of balloons. Louis XVI. refused to consent to the venture, and two +men who were condemned to death were the first to attempt the aerial ascent. +Pilâtre des Rosiers became indignant at this injustice, and, by means of +intrigues, obtained permission to make the experiment. The car, which renders +the management easy, had not then been invented, and a circular gallery was +placed around the lower and contracted part of the Montgolfier balloon. The two +aeronauts must then remain motionless at each extremity of this gallery, for +the moist straw which filled it forbade them all motion. A chafing-dish with +fire was suspended below the orifice of the balloon; when the aeronauts wished +to rise, they threw straw upon this brazier, at the risk of setting fire to the +balloon, and the air, more heated, gave it fresh ascending power. The two bold +travellers rose, on the 21st of November, 1783, from the Muette Gardens, which +the dauphin had put at their disposal. The balloon went up majestically, passed +over the Isle of Swans, crossed the Seine at the Conference barrier, and, +drifting between the dome of the Invalides and the Military School, approached +the Church of Saint Sulpice. Then the aeronauts added to the fire, crossed the +Boulevard, and descended beyond the Enfer barrier. As it touched the soil, the +balloon collapsed, and for a few moments buried Pilâtre des Rosiers under its +folds.” +</p> + +<p> +“Unlucky augury,” I said, interested in the story, which affected +me nearly. +</p> + +<p> +“An augury of the catastrophe which was later to cost this unfortunate +man his life,” replied the unknown sadly. “Have you never +experienced anything like it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Never,” +</p> + +<p> +“Bah! Misfortunes sometimes occur unforeshadowed!” added my +companion. +</p> + +<p> +He then remained silent. +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile we were advancing southward, and Frankfort had already passed from +beneath us. +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps we shall have a storm,” said the young man. +</p> + +<p> +“We shall descend before that,” I replied. +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed! It is better to ascend. We shall escape it more surely.” +</p> + +<p> +And two more bags of sand were hurled into space. +</p> + +<p> +The balloon rose rapidly, and stopped at twelve hundred yards. I became colder; +and yet the sun’s rays, falling upon the surface, expanded the gas +within, and gave it a greater ascending force. +</p> + +<p> +“Fear nothing,” said the unknown. “We have still three +thousand five hundred fathoms of breathing air. Besides, do not trouble +yourself about what I do.” +</p> + +<p> +I would have risen, but a vigorous hand held me to my seat. +</p> + +<p> +“Your name?” I asked. +</p> + +<p> +“My name? What matters it to you?” +</p> + +<p> +“I demand your name!” +</p> + +<p> +“My name is Erostratus or Empedocles, whichever you choose!” +</p> + +<p> +This reply was far from reassuring. +</p> + +<p> +The unknown, besides, talked with such strange coolness that I anxiously asked +myself whom I had to deal with. +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur,” he continued, “nothing original has been imagined +since the physicist Charles. Four months after the discovery of balloons, this +able man had invented the valve, which permits the gas to escape when the +balloon is too full, or when you wish to descend; the car, which aids the +management of the machine; the netting, which holds the envelope of the +balloon, and divides the weight over its whole surface; the ballast, which +enables you to ascend, and to choose the place of your landing; the +india-rubber coating, 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 penetrate to the highest atmospheric +regions, and does not expose you to the dangers of a combustion in the air. On +the 1st of December, 1783, three hundred thousand spectators were crowded +around the Tuileries. Charles rose, and the soldiers presented arms to him. He +travelled nine leagues in the air, conducting his balloon with an ability not +surpassed by modern aeronauts. The king awarded him a pension of two thousand +livres; for then they encouraged new inventions.” +</p> + +<p> +The unknown now seemed to be under the influence of considerable agitation. +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur,” he resumed, “I have studied this, and I am +convinced that the first aeronauts guided their balloons. Without speaking of +Blanchard, whose assertions may be received with doubt, Guyton-Morveaux, by the +aid of oars and rudder, made his machine answer to the helm, and take the +direction he determined on. More recently, M. Julien, a watchmaker, made some +convincing experiments at the Hippodrome, in Paris; for, by a special +mechanism, his aerial apparatus, oblong in form, went visibly against the wind. +It occurred to M. Petin to place four hydrogen balloons together; and, by means +of sails hung horizontally and partly folded, he hopes to be able to disturb +the equilibrium, and, thus inclining the apparatus, to convey it in an oblique +direction. They speak, also, of forces to overcome the resistance of +currents,—for instance, the screw; but the screw, working on a moveable +centre, will give no result. I, monsieur, have discovered the only means of +guiding balloons; and no academy has come to my aid, no city has filled up +subscriptions for me, no government has thought fit to listen to me! It is +infamous!” +</p> + +<p> +The unknown gesticulated fiercely, and the car underwent violent oscillations. +I had much trouble in calming him. +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile the balloon had entered a more rapid current, and we advanced south, +at fifteen hundred yards above the earth. +</p> + +<p> +“See, there is Darmstadt,” said my companion, leaning over the car. +“Do you perceive the château? Not very distinctly, eh? What would you +have? The heat of the storm makes the outline of objects waver, and you must +have a skilled eye to recognize localities.” +</p> + +<p> +“Are you certain it is Darmstadt?” I asked. +</p> + +<p> +“I am sure of it. We are now six leagues from Frankfort.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then we must descend.” +</p> + +<p> +“Descend! You would not go down, on the steeples,” said the +unknown, with a chuckle. +</p> + +<p> +“No, but in the suburbs of the city.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, let us avoid the steeples!” +</p> + +<p> +So speaking, my companion seized some bags of ballast. I hastened to prevent +him; but he overthrew me with one hand, and the unballasted balloon ascended to +two thousand yards. +</p> + +<p> +“Rest easy,” said he, “and do not forget that Brioschi, Biot, +Gay-Lussac, Bixio, and Barral ascended to still greater heights to make their +scientific experiments.” +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur, we must descend,” I resumed, trying to persuade him by +gentleness. “The storm is gathering around us. It would be more +prudent—” +</p> + +<p> +“Bah! We will mount higher than the storm, and then we shall no longer +fear it!” cried my companion. “What is nobler than to overlook the +clouds which oppress the earth? Is it not an honour thus to navigate on aerial +billows? The greatest men have travelled as we are doing. The Marchioness and +Countess de Montalembert, the Countess of Podenas, Mademoiselle la Garde, the +Marquis de Montalembert, rose from the Faubourg Saint-Antoine for these unknown +regions, and the Duke de Chartres exhibited much skill 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, the Chevalier Andreani; in our own time, the Duke of +Brunswick,—have all left the traces of their glory in the air. To equal +these great personages, we must penetrate still higher than they into the +celestial depths! To approach the infinite is to comprehend it!” +</p> + +<p> +The rarefaction of the air was fast expanding the hydrogen in the balloon, and +I saw its lower part, purposely left empty, swell out, so that it was +absolutely necessary to open the valve; but my companion did not seem to intend +that I should manage the balloon as I wished. I then resolved to pull the valve +cord secretly, as he was excitedly talking; for I feared to guess with whom I +had to deal. It would have been too horrible! It was nearly a quarter before +one. We had been gone forty minutes from Frankfort; heavy clouds were coming +against the wind from the south, and seemed about to burst upon us. +</p> + +<p> +“Have you lost all hope of succeeding in your project?” I asked +with anxious interest. +</p> + +<p> +“All hope!” exclaimed the unknown in a low voice. “Wounded by +slights and caricatures, these asses’ kicks have finished me! It is the +eternal punishment reserved for innovators! Look at these caricatures of all +periods, of which my portfolio is full.” +</p> + +<p> +While my companion was fumbling with his papers, I had seized the valve-cord +without his perceiving it. I feared, however, that he might hear the hissing +noise, like a water-course, which the gas makes in escaping. +</p> + +<p> +“How many jokes were made about the Abbé Miolan!” said he. +“He was to go up with Janninet and Bredin. During the filling their +balloon caught fire, and the ignorant populace tore it in pieces! Then this +caricature of ‘curious animals’ appeared, giving each of them a +punning nickname.” +</p> + +<p> +I pulled the valve-cord, and the barometer began to ascend. It was time. Some +far-off rumblings were heard in the south. +</p> + +<p> +“Here is another engraving,” resumed the unknown, not suspecting +what I was doing. “It is an immense balloon carrying a ship, strong +castles, houses, and so on. The caricaturists did not suspect that their +follies would one day become truths. It is complete, this large vessel. On the +left is its helm, with the pilot’s box; at the prow are pleasure-houses, +an immense organ, and a cannon to call the attention of the inhabitants of the +earth or the moon; above the poop there are the observatory and the balloon +long-boat; in the equatorial circle, the army barrack; on the left, the funnel; +then the upper galleries for promenading, sails, pinions; below, the cafés and +general storehouse. Observe this pompous announcement: ‘Invented for the +happiness of the human race, this globe will depart at once for the ports of +the Levant, and on its return the programme of its voyages to the two poles and +the extreme west will be announced. No one need furnish himself with anything; +everything is foreseen, and all will prosper. There will be a uniform price for +all places of destination, but it will be the same for the most distant +countries of our hemisphere—that is to say, a thousand louis for one of +any of the said journeys. And it must be confessed that this sum is very +moderate, when the speed, comfort, and arrangements which will be enjoyed on +the balloon are considered—arrangements which are not to be found on +land, while on the balloon each passenger may consult his own habits and +tastes. This is so true that in the same place some will be dancing, others +standing; some will be enjoying delicacies; others fasting. Whoever desires the +society of wits may satisfy himself; whoever is stupid may find stupid people +to keep him company. 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.” +</p> + +<p> +We were visibly descending. He did not perceive it! +</p> + +<p> +“This kind of ‘game at balloons,’” he resumed, +spreading out before me some of the engravings of his valuable collection, +“this game contains the entire history of the aerostatic art. It is used +by elevated minds, and is played with dice and counters, with whatever stakes +you like, to be paid or received according to where the player arrives.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why,” said I, “you seem to have studied the science of +aerostation profoundly.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, monsieur, yes! From Phaethon, Icarus, Architas, I have searched +for, examined, learnt everything. I could render immense services to the world +in this art, if God granted me life. But that will not be!” +</p> + +<p> +“Why?” +</p> + +<p> +“Because my name is Empedocles, or Erostratus.” +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile, the balloon was happily approaching the earth; but when one is +falling, the danger is as great at a hundred feet as at five thousand. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you recall the battle of Fleurus?” resumed my companion, whose +face became more and more animated. “It was at that battle that Contello, +by order of the Government, organized a company of balloonists. At the siege of +Manbenge General Jourdan derived so much service from this new method of +observation that Contello ascended twice a day with the general himself. The +communications between the aeronaut and his agents who held the balloon were +made by means of small white, red, and yellow flags. Often the gun and cannon +shot were directed upon the balloon when he ascended, but without result. When +General Jourdan was preparing to invest Charleroi, Contello went into the +vicinity, ascended from the plain of Jumet, and continued his observations for +seven or eight hours with General Morlot, and this no doubt aided in giving us +the victory of Fleurus. General Jourdan publicly acknowledged the help which +the aeronautical observations had afforded him. Well, despite the services +rendered on that occasion and during the Belgian campaign, the year which had +seen the beginning of the military career of balloons saw also its end. The +school of Meudon, founded by the Government, was closed by Buonaparte on his +return from Egypt. And now, what can you expect from the new-born infant? as +Franklin said. The infant was born alive; it should not be stifled!” +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<a name="image28"></a> +<img src="images/image28.jpg" width="418" height="600" alt="[Illustration: ]" /> +<p class="caption">“He continued his observations for seven or eight +hours with General Morlot” +</p> +</div> + +<p> +The unknown bowed his head in his hands, and reflected for some moments; then +raising his head, he said,— +</p> + +<p> +“Despite my prohibition, monsieur, you have opened the valve.” +</p> + +<p> +I dropped the cord. +</p> + +<p> +“Happily,” he resumed, “we have still three hundred pounds of +ballast.” +</p> + +<p> +“What is your purpose?” said I. +</p> + +<p> +“Have you ever crossed the seas?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +I turned pale. +</p> + +<p> +“It is unfortunate,” he went on, “that we are being driven +towards the Adriatic. That is only a stream; but higher up we may find other +currents.” +</p> + +<p> +And, without taking any notice of me, he threw over several bags of sand; then, +in a menacing voice, he said,— +</p> + +<p> +“I let you open the valve because the expansion of the gas threatened to +burst the balloon; but do not do it again!” +</p> + +<p> +Then he went on as follows:— +</p> + +<p> +“You remember the voyage of Blanchard and Jeffries from Dover to Calais? +It was magnificent! On the 7th of January, 1785, there being a north-west wind, +their balloon was inflated with gas on the Dover coast. A mistake of +equilibrium, just as they were ascending, forced them to throw out their +ballast so that they might not go down again, and they only kept thirty pounds. +It was too little; for, as the wind did not freshen, they only advanced very +slowly towards the French coast. Besides, the permeability of the tissue served +to reduce the inflation little by little, and in an hour and a half the +aeronauts perceived that they were descending. +</p> + +<p> +“‘What shall we do?’ said Jeffries. +</p> + +<p> +“‘We are only one quarter of the way over,’ replied +Blanchard, ‘and very low down. On rising, we shall perhaps meet more +favourable winds.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘Let us throw out the rest of the sand.’ +</p> + +<p> +“The balloon acquired some ascending force, but it soon began to descend +again. Towards the middle of the transit the aeronauts threw over their books +and tools. A quarter of an hour after, Blanchard said to Jeffries,— +</p> + +<p> +“‘The barometer?’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘It is going up! We are lost, and yet there is the French +coast.’ +</p> + +<p> +“A loud noise was heard. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Has the balloon burst?’ asked Jeffries. +</p> + +<p> +“‘No. The loss of the gas has reduced the inflation of the lower +part of the balloon. But we are still descending. We are lost! Out with +everything useless!’ +</p> + +<p> +“Provisions, oars, and rudder were thrown into the sea. The aeronauts +were only one hundred yards high. +</p> + +<p> +“‘We are going up again,’ said the doctor. +</p> + +<p> +“‘No. It is the spurt caused by the diminution of the weight, and +not a ship in sight, not a bark on the horizon! To the sea with our +clothing!’ +</p> + +<p> +“The unfortunates stripped themselves, but the balloon continued to +descend. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Blanchard,’ said Jeffries, ‘you should have made this +voyage alone; you consented to take me; I will sacrifice myself! I am going to +throw myself into the water, and the balloon, relieved of my weight, will mount +again.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘No, no! It is frightful!’ +</p> + +<p> +“The balloon became less and less inflated, and as it doubled up its +concavity pressed the gas against the sides, and hastened its downward course. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<a name="image29"></a> +<img src="images/image29.jpg" width="410" height="600" alt="[Illustration: ]" /> +<p class="caption">The balloon became less and less inflated +</p> +</div> + +<p> +“‘Adieu, my friend,” said the doctor. ‘God preserve +you!’ +</p> + +<p> +“He was about to throw himself over, when Blanchard held him back. +</p> + +<p> +“‘There is one more chance,’ said he. ‘We can cut the +cords which hold the car, and cling to the net! Perhaps the balloon will rise. +Let us hold ourselves ready. But—the barometer is going down! The wind is +freshening! We are saved!’ +</p> + +<p> +“The aeronauts perceived Calais. Their joy was delirious. A few moments +more, and they had fallen in the forest of Guines. I do not doubt,” added +the unknown, “that, under similar circumstances, you would have followed +Doctor Jeffries’ example!” +</p> + +<p> +The clouds rolled in glittering masses beneath us. The balloon threw large +shadows on this heap of clouds, and was surrounded as by an aureola. The +thunder rumbled below the car. All this was terrifying. +</p> + +<p> +“Let us descend!” I cried. +</p> + +<p> +“Descend, when the sun is up there, waiting for us? Out with more +bags!” +</p> + +<p> +And more than fifty pounds of ballast were cast over. +</p> + +<p> +At a height of three thousand five hundred yards we remained stationary. +</p> + +<p> +The unknown talked unceasingly. I was in a state of complete prostration, while +he seemed to be in his element. +</p> + +<p> +“With a good wind, we shall go far,” he cried. “In the +Antilles there are currents of air which have a speed of a hundred leagues an +hour. When Napoleon was crowned, Garnerin sent up a balloon with coloured +lamps, at eleven o’clock at night. The wind was blowing north-north-west. +The next morning, at daybreak, the inhabitants of Rome greeted its passage over +the dome of St. Peter’s. We shall go farther and higher!” +</p> + +<p> +I scarcely heard him. Everything whirled around me. An opening appeared in the +clouds. +</p> + +<p> +“See that city,” said the unknown. “It is Spires!” +</p> + +<p> +I leaned over the car and perceived a small blackish mass. It was Spires. The +Rhine, which is so large, seemed an unrolled ribbon. The sky was a deep blue +over our heads. The birds had long abandoned us, for in that rarefied air they +could not have flown. We were alone in space, and I in presence of this +unknown! +</p> + +<p> +“It is useless for you to know whither I am leading you,” he said, +as he threw the compass among the clouds. “Ah! a fall is a grand thing! +You know that but few victims of ballooning are to be reckoned, from Pilâtre +des Rosiers to Lieutenant Gale, and that the accidents have always been the +result of imprudence. Pilâtre des Rosiers set out with Romain of Boulogne, on +the 13th of June, 1785. To his gas balloon he had affixed a Montgolfier +apparatus of hot air, so as to dispense, no doubt, with the necessity of losing +gas or throwing out ballast. It was putting a torch under a powder-barrel. When +they had ascended four hundred yards, and were taken by opposing winds, they +were driven over the open sea. Pilâtre, in order to descend, essayed to open +the valve, but the valve-cord became entangled in the balloon, and tore it so +badly that it became empty in an instant. It fell upon the Montgolfier +apparatus, overturned it, and dragged down the unfortunates, who were soon +shattered to pieces! It is frightful, is it not?” +</p> + +<p> +I could only reply, “For pity’s sake, let us descend!” +</p> + +<p> +The clouds gathered around us on every side, and dreadful detonations, which +reverberated in the cavity of the balloon, took place beneath us. +</p> + +<p> +“You provoke me,” cried the unknown, “and you shall no longer +know whether we are rising or falling!” +</p> + +<p> +The barometer went the way of the compass, accompanied by several more bags of +sand. We must have been 5000 yards high. Some icicles 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 +were above it. +</p> + +<p> +“Do not be afraid,” said the unknown. “It is only the +imprudent who are lost. Olivari, who perished at Orleans, rose in a paper +‘Montgolfier;’ his car, suspended below the chafing-dish, and +ballasted with combustible materials, caught fire; Olivari fell, and was +killed! Mosment rose, at Lille, on a light tray; an oscillation disturbed his +equilibrium; Mosment fell, and was killed! Bittorf, at Mannheim, saw his +balloon catch fire in the air; and he, too, fell, and was killed! Harris rose +in a badly constructed balloon, the valve of which was too large and would not +shut; Harris fell, and was killed! Sadler, deprived of ballast by his long +sojourn in the air, was dragged over the town of Boston and dashed against the +chimneys; Sadler fell, and was killed! Cokling descended with a convex +parachute which he pretended to have perfected; Cokling fell, and was killed! +Well, I love them, these victims of their own imprudence, and I shall die as +they did. Higher! still higher!” +</p> + +<p> +All the phantoms of this necrology passed before my eyes. The rarefaction of +the air and the sun’s rays added to the expansion of the gas, and the +balloon continued to mount. I tried mechanically to open the valve, but the +unknown cut the cord several feet above my head. I was lost! +</p> + +<p> +“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 rose in a +small sized balloon, to avoid the expense of filling, and she was forced to +entirely inflate it. The gas leaked out below, and left a regular train of +hydrogen in its path. She carried with her a sort of pyrotechnic aureola, +suspended below her car by a wire, which she was to set off in the air. This +she had done many times before. On this day she also carried up a small +parachute ballasted by a firework contrivance, that would go off in a shower of +silver. She was to start this contrivance after having lighted it with a +port-fire made on purpose. She set out; the night was gloomy. At the moment of +lighting her fireworks she was so imprudent as to pass the taper under the +column of hydrogen which was leaking from the balloon. My eyes were fixed upon +her. Suddenly an unexpected gleam lit up the darkness. I thought she was +preparing a surprise. The light flashed out, suddenly disappeared and +reappeared, and gave the summit of the balloon the shape of an immense jet of +ignited gas. This sinister glow shed itself over the Boulevard and the whole +Montmartre quarter. Then I saw the unhappy woman rise, try twice to close the +appendage of the balloon, so as to put out the fire, then sit down in her car +and try to guide her descent; for she did not fall. The combustion of the gas +lasted for several minutes. The balloon, becoming gradually less, continued to +descend, but it was not a fall. The wind blew from the north-west and drove it +towards Paris. There were then some large gardens just by the house No. 16, Rue +de Provence. Madame Blanchard essayed to fall there without danger: but the +balloon and the car struck on the roof of the house with a light shock. +‘Save me!’ cried the wretched woman. I got into the street at this +moment. The car slid along the roof, and encountered an iron cramp. At this +concussion, Madame Blanchard was thrown out of her car and precipitated upon +the pavement. She was killed!” +</p> + +<p> +These stories froze me with horror. The unknown was standing with bare head, +dishevelled hair, haggard eyes! +</p> + +<p> +There was no longer any illusion possible. I at last recognized the horrible +truth. I was in the presence of a madman! +</p> + +<p> +He threw out the rest of the ballast, and we must have now reached a height of +at least nine thousand yards. Blood spurted from my nose and mouth! +</p> + +<p> +“Who are nobler than the martyrs of science?” cried the lunatic. +“They are canonized by posterity.” +</p> + +<p> +But I no longer heard him. He looked about him, and, bending down to my ear, +muttered,— +</p> + +<p> +“And have you forgotten Zambecarri’s catastrophe? Listen. On the +7th of October, 1804, the clouds seemed to lift a little. On the preceding +days, the wind and rain had not ceased; but the announced ascension of +Zambecarri could not be postponed. His enemies were already bantering him. It +was necessary to ascend, to save the science and himself from becoming a public +jest. It was at Boulogne. No one helped him to inflate his balloon. +</p> + +<p> +“He rose at midnight, accompanied by Andreoli and Grossetti. The balloon +mounted slowly, for it had been perforated by the rain, and the gas was leaking +out. The three intrepid aeronauts could only observe the state of the barometer +by aid of a dark lantern. Zambecarri had eaten nothing for twenty-four hours. +Grossetti was also fasting. +</p> + +<p> +“‘My friends,’ said Zambecarri, ‘I am overcome by cold, +and exhausted. I am dying.’ +</p> + +<p> +“He fell inanimate in the gallery. It was the same with Grossetti. +Andreoli alone remained conscious. After long efforts, he succeeded in reviving +Zambecarri. +</p> + +<p> +“‘What news? Whither are we going? How is the wind? What time is +it?’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘It is two o’clock.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘Where is the compass?’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘Upset!’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘Great God! The lantern has gone out!’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘It cannot burn in this rarefied air,’ said Zambecarri. +</p> + +<p> +“The moon had not risen, and the atmosphere was plunged in murky +darkness. +</p> + +<p> +“‘I am cold, Andreoli. What shall I do?’ +</p> + +<p> +“They slowly descended through a layer of whitish clouds. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Sh!’ said Andreoli. ‘Do you hear?’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘What?’ asked Zambecarri. +</p> + +<p> +“‘A strange noise.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘You are mistaken.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘No.’ +</p> + +<p> +“Consider these travellers, in the middle of the night, listening to that +unaccountable noise! Are they going to knock against a tower? Are they about to +be precipitated on the roofs? +</p> + +<p> +“‘Do you hear? One would say it was the noise of the sea.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘Impossible!’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘It is the groaning of the waves!’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘It is true.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘Light! light!’ +</p> + +<p> +“After five fruitless attempts, Andreoli succeeded in obtaining light. It +was three o’clock. +</p> + +<p> +“The voice of violent waves was heard. They were almost touching the +surface of the sea! +</p> + +<p> +“‘We are lost!’ cried Zambecarri, seizing a large bag of +sand. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Help!’ cried Andreoli. +</p> + +<p> +“The car touched the water, and the waves came up to their breasts. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Throw out the instruments, clothes, money!’ +</p> + +<p> +“The aeronauts completely stripped themselves. The balloon, relieved, +rose with frightful rapidity. Zambecarri was taken with vomiting. Grossetti +bled profusely. The unfortunate men could not speak, so short was their +breathing. They were taken with cold, and they were soon crusted over with ice. +The moon looked as red as blood. +</p> + +<p> +“After traversing the high regions for a half-hour, the balloon again +fell into the sea. It was four in the morning. They were half submerged in the +water, and the balloon dragged them along, as if under sail, for several hours. +</p> + +<p> +“At daybreak they found themselves opposite Pesaro, four miles from the +coast. They were about to reach it, when a gale blew them back into the open +sea. They were lost! The frightened boats fled at their approach. Happily, a +more intelligent boatman accosted them, hoisted them on board, and they landed +at Ferrada. +</p> + +<p> +“A frightful journey, was it not? But Zambecarri was a brave and +energetic man. Scarcely recovered from his sufferings, he resumed his +ascensions. During one of them he struck against a tree; his spirit-lamp was +broken on his clothes; he was enveloped in fire, his balloon began to catch the +flames, and he came down half consumed. +</p> + +<p> +“At last, on the 21st of September, 1812, he made another ascension at +Boulogne. The balloon clung to a tree, and his lamp again set it on fire. +Zambecarri fell, and was killed! And in presence of these facts, we would still +hesitate! No. The higher we go, the more glorious will be our death!” +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<a name="image30"></a> +<img src="images/image30.jpg" width="422" height="600" alt="[Illustration: ]" /> +<p class="caption">“Zambecarri fell, and was killed!” +</p> +</div> + +<p> +The balloon being now entirely relieved of ballast and of all it contained, we +were carried to an enormous height. It vibrated in the atmosphere. The least +noise resounded in the vaults of heaven. Our globe, the only object which +caught my view in immensity, seemed ready to be annihilated, and above us the +depths of the starry skies were lost in thick darkness. +</p> + +<p> +I saw my companion rise up before me. +</p> + +<p> +“The hour is come!” he said. “We must die. We are rejected of +men. They despise us. Let us crush them!” +</p> + +<p> +“Mercy!” I cried. +</p> + +<p> +“Let us cut these cords! Let this car be abandoned in space. The +attractive force will change its direction, and we shall approach the +sun!” +</p> + +<p> +Despair galvanized me. I threw myself upon the madman, we struggled together, +and a terrible conflict took place. But I was thrown down, and while he held me +under his knee, the madman was cutting the cords of the car. +</p> + +<p> +“One!” he cried. +</p> + +<p> +“My God!” +</p> + +<p> +“Two! Three!” +</p> + +<p> +I made a superhuman effort, rose up, and violently repulsed the madman. +</p> + +<p> +“Four!” +</p> + +<p> +The car fell, but I instinctively clung to the cords and hoisted myself into +the meshes of the netting. +</p> + +<p> +The madman disappeared in space! +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<a name="image31"></a> +<img src="images/image31.jpg" width="417" height="600" alt="[Illustration: ]" /> +<p class="caption">The madman disappeared in space! +</p> +</div> + +<p> +The balloon was raised to an immeasurable height. A horrible cracking was +heard. The gas, too much dilated, had burst the balloon. I shut my eyes— +</p> + +<p> +Some instants after, a damp warmth revived me. I was in the midst of clouds on +fire. The balloon turned over with dizzy velocity. Taken by the wind, it made a +hundred leagues an hour in a horizontal course, the lightning flashing around +it. +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile my fall was not a very rapid one. When I opened my eyes, I saw the +country. I was two miles from the sea, and the tempest was driving me violently +towards it, when an abrupt shock forced me to loosen my hold. My hands opened, +a cord slipped swiftly between my fingers, and I found myself on the solid +earth! +</p> + +<p> +It was the cord of the anchor, which, sweeping along the surface of the ground, +was caught in a crevice; and my balloon, unballasted for the last time, +careered off to lose itself beyond the sea. +</p> + +<p> +When I came to myself, I was in bed in a peasant’s cottage, at +Harderwick, a village of La Gueldre, fifteen leagues from Amsterdam, on the +shores of the Zuyder-Zee. +</p> + +<p> +A miracle had saved my life, but my voyage had been a series of imprudences, +committed by a lunatic, and I had not been able to prevent them. +</p> + +<p> +May this terrible narrative, though instructing those who read it, not +discourage the explorers of the air. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="winter_01"></a>A WINTER AMID THE ICE</h2> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>CHAPTER I<br/> +THE BLACK FLAG</h2> + +<p> +The curé of the ancient church of Dunkirk rose at five o’clock on the +12th of May, 18—, to perform, according to his custom, low mass for the +benefit of a few pious sinners. +</p> + +<p> +Attired in his priestly robes, he was about to proceed to the altar, when a man +entered the sacristy, at once joyous and frightened. He was a sailor of some +sixty years, but still vigorous and sturdy, with, an open, honest countenance. +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur the curé,” said he, “stop a moment, if you +please.” +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<a name="image32"></a> +<img src="images/image32.jpg" width="418" height="600" alt="[Illustration: ]" /> +<p class="caption">“Monsieur the curé,” said he, “stop a +moment, if you please.” +</p> +</div> + +<p> +“What do you want so early in the morning, Jean Cornbutte?” asked +the curé. +</p> + +<p> +“What do I want? Why, to embrace you in my arms, i’ faith!” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, after the mass at which you are going to be present—” +</p> + +<p> +“The mass?” returned the old sailor, laughing. “Do you think +you are going to say your mass now, and that I will let you do so?” +</p> + +<p> +“And why should I not say my mass?” asked the curé. “Explain +yourself. The third bell has sounded—” +</p> + +<p> +“Whether it has or not,” replied Jean Cornbutte, “it will +sound many more times to-day, monsieur the curé, for you have promised me that +you will bless, with your own hands, the marriage of my son Louis and my niece +Marie!” +</p> + +<p> +“He has arrived, then,” said the curé “joyfully. +</p> + +<p> +“It is nearly the same thing,” replied Cornbutte, rubbing his +hands. “Our brig was signalled from the look out at sunrise,—our +brig, which you yourself christened by the good name of the +‘Jeune-Hardie’!” +</p> + +<p> +“I congratulate you with all my heart, Cornbutte,” said the curé, +taking off his chasuble and stole. “I remember our agreement. The vicar +will take my place, and I will put myself at your disposal against your dear +son’s arrival.” +</p> + +<p> +“And I promise you that he will not make you fast long,” replied +the sailor. “You have already published the banns, and you will only have +to absolve him from the sins he may have committed between 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 to the church.” +</p> + +<p> +“Go, then, and arrange everything, Cornbutte.” +</p> + +<p> +“I fly, monsieur the curé. Good morning!” +</p> + +<p> +The sailor hastened with rapid steps to his house, which stood on the quay, +whence could be seen the Northern Ocean, of which he seemed so proud. +</p> + +<p> +Jean Cornbutte had amassed a comfortable sum at his calling. After having long +commanded the vessels of a rich shipowner of Havre, he had settled down in his +native town, where he had caused the brig “Jeune-Hardie” to be +constructed at his own expense. 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 to his son Louis, a fine +sailor of thirty, who, according to all the coasting captains, was the boldest +mariner in Dunkirk. +</p> + +<p> +Louis Cornbutte had gone away deeply attached to Marie, his father’s +niece, who found the time of his absence very long and weary. Marie was +scarcely twenty. She was a pretty Flemish girl, with some Dutch blood in her +veins. Her mother, when she was dying, had confided her to her brother, Jean +Cornbutte. The brave old sailor loved her as a daughter, and saw in her +proposed union with Louis a source of real and durable happiness. +</p> + +<p> +The arrival of the ship, already signalled off the coast, completed an +important business operation, from which Jean Cornbutte expected large profits. +The “Jeune-Hardie,” which had left three months before, came last +from Bodoë, on the west coast of Norway, and had made a quick voyage thence. +</p> + +<p> +On returning home, Jean Cornbutte found the whole house alive. Marie, with +radiant face, had assumed her wedding-dress. +</p> + +<p> +“I hope the ship will not arrive before we are ready!” she said. +</p> + +<p> +“Hurry, little one,” replied Jean Cornbutte, “for the wind is +north, and she sails well, you know, when she goes freely.” +</p> + +<p> +“Have our friends been told, uncle?” asked Marie. +</p> + +<p> +“They have.” +</p> + +<p> +“The notary, and the curé?” +</p> + +<p> +“Rest easy. You alone are keeping us waiting.” +</p> + +<p> +At this moment Clerbaut, an old crony, came in. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, old Cornbutte,” cried he, “here’s luck! Your +ship has arrived at the very moment that the government has decided to contract +for a large quantity of wood for the navy!” +</p> + +<p> +“What is that to me?” replied Jean Cornbutte. “What care I +for the government?” +</p> + +<p> +“You see, Monsieur Clerbaut,” said Marie, “one thing only +absorbs us,—Louis’s return.” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t dispute that,” replied Clerbaut. “But—in +short—this purchase of wood—” +</p> + +<p> +“And you shall be at the wedding,” replied Jean Cornbutte, +interrupting the merchant, and shaking his hand as if he would crush it. +</p> + +<p> +“This purchase of wood—” +</p> + +<p> +“And with all our friends, landsmen and seamen, Clerbaut. I have already +informed everybody, and I shall invite the whole crew of the ship.” +</p> + +<p> +“And shall we go and await them on the pier?” asked Marie. +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed we will,” replied Jean Cornbutte. “We will defile, +two by two, with the violins at the head.” +</p> + +<p> +Jean Cornbutte’s invited guests soon arrived. Though it was very early, +not a single one failed to appear. All congratulated the honest old sailor whom +they loved. Meanwhile Marie, kneeling down, changed her prayers to God into +thanksgivings. She soon returned, lovely and decked out, to the company; and +all the women kissed her on the check, while the men vigorously grasped her by +the hand. Then Jean Cornbutte gave the signal of departure. +</p> + +<p> +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 had spread through the +port, and many heads, in nightcaps, appeared at the windows and at the +half-opened doors. Sincere compliments and pleasant nods came from every side. +</p> + +<p> +The party reached the pier in the midst of a concert of praise and blessings. +The weather was magnificent, and the sun seemed to take part in the festivity. +A fresh north wind made the waves foam; and some fishing-smacks, their sails +trimmed for leaving port, streaked the sea with their rapid wakes between the +breakwaters. +</p> + +<p> +The two piers of Dunkirk stretch far out into the sea. The wedding-party +occupied the whole width of the northern pier, and soon reached a small house +situated at its extremity, inhabited by the harbour-master. The wind freshened, +and the “Jeune-Hardie” ran swiftly under her topsails, mizzen, +brigantine, gallant, and royal. There was evidently rejoicing on board as well +as on land. Jean Cornbutte, spy-glass in hand, responded merrily to the +questions of his friends. +</p> + +<p> +“See my ship!” he cried; “clean and steady as if she had been +rigged at Dunkirk! Not a bit of damage done,—not a rope wanting!” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you see your son, the captain?” asked one. +</p> + +<p> +“No, not yet. Why, he’s at his business!” +</p> + +<p> +“Why doesn’t he run up his flag?” asked Clerbaut. +</p> + +<p> +“I scarcely know, old friend. He has a reason for it, no doubt.” +</p> + +<p> +“Your spy-glass, uncle?” said Marie, taking it from him. “I +want to be the first to see him.” +</p> + +<p> +“But he is my son, mademoiselle!” +</p> + +<p> +“He has been your son for thirty years,” answered the young girl, +laughing, “and he has only been my betrothed for two!” +</p> + +<p> +The “Jeune-Hardie” was now entirely visible. Already the crew were +preparing to cast anchor. The upper sails had been reefed. The sailors who were +among the rigging might be recognized. But neither Marie nor Jean Cornbutte had +yet been able to wave their hands at the captain of the ship. +</p> + +<p> +“Faith! there’s the first mate, André Vasling,” cried +Clerbaut. +</p> + +<p> +“And there’s Fidèle Misonne, the carpenter,” said another. +</p> + +<p> +“And our friend Penellan,” said a third, saluting the sailor named. +</p> + +<p> +The “Jeune-Hardie” was only three cables’ lengths from the +shore, when a black flag ascended to the gaff of the brigantine. There was +mourning on board! +</p> + +<p> +A shudder of terror seized the party and the heart of the young girl. +</p> + +<p> +The ship sadly swayed into port, and an icy silence reigned on its deck. Soon +it had passed the end of the pier. Marie, Jean Cornbutte, and all their friends +hurried towards the quay at which she was to anchor, and in a moment found +themselves on board. +</p> + +<p> +“My son!” said Jean Cornbutte, who could only articulate these +words. +</p> + +<p> +The sailors, with uncovered heads, pointed to the mourning flag. +</p> + +<p> +Marie uttered a cry of anguish, and fell into old Cornbutte’s arms. +</p> + +<p> +André Vasling had brought back the “Jeune-Hardie,” but Louis +Cornbutte, Marie’s betrothed, was not on board. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="winter_02"></a>CHAPTER II.<br/> +JEAN CORNBUTTE’S PROJECT.</h2> + +<p> +As soon as the young girl, confided to the care of the sympathizing friends, +had left the ship, André Vasling, the mate, apprised Jean Cornbutte of the +dreadful event which had deprived him of his son, narrated in the ship’s +journal as follows:— +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<a name="image33"></a> +<img src="images/image33.jpg" width="417" height="600" alt="[Illustration: ]" /> +<p class="caption">André Vasling, the mate, apprised Jean Cornbutte of the +dreadful event +</p> +</div> + +<p> +“At the height of the Maëlstrom, on the 26th of April, the ship, putting +for the cape, by reason of bad weather and south-west winds, perceived signals +of distress made by a schooner to the leeward. This schooner, deprived of its +mizzen-mast, was running towards 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 his crew, he had the long-boat +lowered into the sea, and got into it, with the sailor Courtois and the +helmsman Pierre Nouquet. The crew watched them until they disappeared in the +fog. Night came on. The sea became more and more boisterous. The +“Jeune-Hardie”, drawn by the currents in those parts, was in danger +of being engulfed by the Maëlstrom. She was obliged to fly before the wind. For +several days she hovered near the place of the disaster, but in vain. The +long-boat, the schooner, Captain Louis, and the two sailors did not reappear. +André Vasling then called the crew together, took command of the ship, and set +sail for Dunkirk.” +</p> + +<p> +After reading this dry narrative, Jean Cornbutte wept for a long time; and if +he had any consolation, it was the thought that his son had died in attempting +to save his fellow-men. Then the poor father left the ship, the sight of which +made him wretched, and returned to his desolate home. +</p> + +<p> +The sad news soon spread throughout Dunkirk. The many friends of the old sailor +came to bring him their cordial and sincere sympathy. Then the sailors of the +“Jeune-Hardie” gave a more particular account of the event, and +André Vasling told Marie, at great length, of the devotion of her betrothed to +the last. +</p> + +<p> +When he ceased weeping, Jean Cornbutte thought over the matter, and the next +day after the ship’s arrival, when Andre came to see him, said,— +</p> + +<p> +“Are you very sure, André, that my son has perished?” +</p> + +<p> +“Alas, yes, Monsieur Jean,” replied the mate. +</p> + +<p> +“And you made all possible search for him?” +</p> + +<p> +“All, Monsieur Cornbutte. But it is unhappily but too certain that he and +the two sailors were sucked down in the whirlpool of the Maëlstrom.” +</p> + +<p> +“Would you like, André, to keep the second command of the ship?” +</p> + +<p> +“That will depend upon the captain, Monsieur Cornbutte.” +</p> + +<p> +“I shall be the captain,” replied the old sailor. “I am going +to discharge the cargo with all speed, make up my crew, and sail in search of +my son.” +</p> + +<p> +“Your son is dead!” said André obstinately. +</p> + +<p> +“It is possible, Andre,” replied Jean Cornbutte sharply, “but +it is also possible that he saved himself. I am going to rummage all the ports +of Norway whither he might have been driven, and when I am fully convinced that +I shall never see him again, I will return here to die!” +</p> + +<p> +André Vasling, seeing that this decision was irrevocable, did not insist +further, but went away. +</p> + +<p> +Jean Cornbutte at once apprised his niece of his intention, and he saw a few +rays of hope glisten across her tears. It had not seemed to the young girl that +her lover’s death might be doubtful; but scarcely had this new hope +entered her heart, than she embraced it without reserve. +</p> + +<p> +The old sailor determined that the “Jeune-Hardie” should put to sea +without delay. The solidly built ship had no need of repairs. Jean Cornbutte +gave his sailors notice that if they wished to re-embark, no change in the crew +would be made. He alone replaced his son in the command of the brig. None of +the comrades of Louis Cornbutte failed to respond to his call, and there were +hardy tars among them,—Alaine Turquiette, Fidèle Misonne the carpenter, +Penellan the Breton, who replaced Pierre Nouquet as helmsman, and Gradlin, +Aupic, and Gervique, courageous and well-tried mariners. +</p> + +<p> +Jean Cornbutte again offered André Vasling his old rank on board. The first +mate was an able officer, who had proved his skill in bringing the +“Jeune-Hardie” into port. Yet, from what motive could not be told, +André made some difficulties and asked time for reflection. +</p> + +<p> +“As you will, André Vasling,” replied Cornbutte. “Only +remember that if you accept, you will be welcome among us.” +</p> + +<p> +Jean had a devoted sailor in Penellan the Breton, who had long been his +fellow-voyager. In times gone by, little Marie was wont to pass the long winter +evenings in the helmsman’s arms, when he was on shore. He felt a fatherly +friendship for her, and she had for him ah affection quite filial. Penellan +hastened the fitting out of the ship with all his energy, all the more because, +according to his opinion, André Vasling had not perhaps made every effort +possible to find the castaways, although he was excusable from the +responsibility which weighed upon him as captain. +</p> + +<p> +Within a week the “Jeune-Hardie” was ready to put to sea. Instead +of merchandise, she was completely provided with salt meats, biscuits, barrels +of flour, potatoes, pork, wine, brandy, coffee, tea, and tobacco. +</p> + +<p> +The departure was fixed for the 22nd of May. On the evening before, André +Vasling, who had not yet given his answer to Jean Cornbutte, came to his house. +He was still undecided, and did not know which course to take. +</p> + +<p> +Jean was not at home, though the house-door was open. André went into the +passage, next to Marie’s chamber, where the sound of an animated +conversation struck his ear. He listened attentively, and recognized the voices +of Penellan and Marie. +</p> + +<p> +The discussion had no doubt been going on for some time, for the young girl +seemed to be stoutly opposing what the Breton sailor said. +</p> + +<p> +“How old is my uncle Cornbutte?” said Marie. +</p> + +<p> +“Something about sixty years,” replied Penellan. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, is he not going to brave danger to find his son?” +</p> + +<p> +“Our captain is still a sturdy man,” returned the sailor. “He +has a body of oak and muscles as hard as a spare spar. So I am not afraid to +have him go to sea again!’” +</p> + +<p> +“My good Penellan,” said Marie, “one is strong when one +loves! Besides, I have full confidence in the aid of Heaven. You understand me, +and will help me.” +</p> + +<p> +“No!” said Penellan. “It is impossible, Marie. Who knows +whither we shall drift, or what we must suffer? How many vigorous men have I +seen lose their lives in these seas!” +</p> + +<p> +“Penellan,” returned the young girl, “if you refuse me, I +shall believe that you do not love me any longer.” +</p> + +<p> +André Vasling understood the young girl’s resolution. He reflected a +moment, and his course was determined on. +</p> + +<p> +“Jean Cornbutte,” said he, advancing towards the old sailor, who +now entered, “I will go with you. The cause of my hesitation has +disappeared, and you may count upon my devotion.” +</p> + +<p> +“I have never doubted you, André Vasling,” replied Jean Cornbutte, +grasping him by the hand. “Marie, my child!” he added, calling in a +loud voice. +</p> + +<p> +Marie and Penellan made their appearance. +</p> + +<p> +“We shall set sail to-morrow at daybreak, with the outgoing tide,” +said Jean. “My poor Marie, this is the last evening that we shall pass +together. +</p> + +<p> +“Uncle!” cried Marie, throwing herself into his arms. +</p> + +<p> +“Marie, by the help of God, I will bring your lover back to you!” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, we will find Louis,” added André Vasling. +</p> + +<p> +“You are going with us, then?” asked Penellan quickly. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, Penellan, André Vasling is to be my first mate,” answered +Jean. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, oh!” ejaculated the Breton, in a singular tone. +</p> + +<p> +“And his advice will be useful to us, for he is able and enterprising. +</p> + +<p> +“And yourself, captain,” said André. “You will set us all a +good example, for you have still as much vigour as experience.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, my friends, good-bye till to-morrow. Go on board and make the +final arrangements. Good-bye, André; good-bye, Penellan.” +</p> + +<p> +The mate and the sailor went out together, and Jean and Marie remained alone. +Many bitter tears were shed during that sad evening. Jean Cornbutte, seeing +Marie so wretched, resolved to spare her the pain of separation by leaving the +house on the morrow without her knowledge. So he gave her a last kiss that +evening, and at three o’clock next morning was up and away. +</p> + +<p> +The departure of the brig had attracted all the old sailor’s friends to +the pier. The curé, who was to have blessed Marie’s union with Louis, +came to give a last benediction on the ship. Rough grasps of the hand were +silently exchanged, and Jean went on board. +</p> + +<p> +The crew were all there. André Vasling gave the last orders. The sails were +spread, and the brig rapidly passed out under a stiff north-west breeze, whilst +the cure, upright in the midst of the kneeling spectators, committed the vessel +to the hands of God. +</p> + +<p> +Whither goes this ship? She follows the perilous route upon which so many +castaways have been lost! She has no certain destination. She must expect every +peril, and be able to brave them without hesitating. God alone knows where it +will be her fate to anchor. May God guide her! +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="winter_03"></a>CHAPTER III.<br/> +A RAY OF HOPE.</h2> + +<p> +At that time of the year the season was favourable, and the crew might hope +promptly to reach the scene of the shipwreck. +</p> + +<p> +Jean Cornbutte’s plan was naturally traced out. He counted on stopping at +the Feroë Islands, whither the north wind might have carried the castaways; +then, if he was convinced that they had not been received in any of the ports +of that locality, he would continue his search beyond the Northern Ocean, +ransack the whole western coast of Norway as far as Bodoë, the place nearest +the scene of the shipwreck; and, if necessary, farther still. +</p> + +<p> +André Vasling thought, contrary to the captain’s opinion, that the coast +of Iceland should be explored; but Penellan observed that, at the time of the +catastrophe, the gale came from the west; which, while it gave hope that the +unfortunates had not been forced towards the gulf of the Maëlstrom, gave ground +for supposing that they might have been thrown on the Norwegian coast. +</p> + +<p> +It was determined, then, that this coast should be followed as closely as +possible, so as to recognize any traces of them that might appear. +</p> + +<p> +The day after sailing, Jean Cornbutte, intent upon a map, was absorbed in +reflection, when a small hand touched his shoulder, and a soft voice said in +his ear,— +</p> + +<p> +“Have good courage, uncle.” +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<a name="image34"></a> +<img src="images/image34.jpg" width="415" height="600" alt="[Illustration: ]" /> +<p class="caption">A soft voice said in his ear, “Have good courage, +uncle.” +</p> +</div> + +<p> +He turned, and was stupefied. Marie embraced him. +</p> + +<p> +“Marie, my daughter, on board!” he cried. +</p> + +<p> +“The wife may well go in search of her husband, when the father embarks +to save his child.” +</p> + +<p> +“Unhappy Marie! How wilt thou support our fatigues! Dost thou know that +thy presence may be injurious to our search?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, uncle, for I am strong.” +</p> + +<p> +“Who knows whither we shall be forced to go, Marie? Look at this map. We +are approaching places dangerous even for us sailors, hardened though we are to +the difficulties of the sea. And thou, frail child?” +</p> + +<p> +“But, uncle, I come from a family of sailors. I am used to stories of +combats and tempests. I am with you and my old friend Penellan!” +</p> + +<p> +“Penellan! It was he who concealed you on board?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, uncle; but only when he saw that I was determined to come without +his help.” +</p> + +<p> +“Penellan!” cried Jean. +</p> + +<p> +Penellan entered. +</p> + +<p> +“It is not possible to undo what you have done, Penellan; but remember +that you are responsible for Marie’s life.” +</p> + +<p> +“Rest easy, captain,” replied Penellan. “The little one has +force and courage, and will be our guardian angel. And then, captain, you know +it is my theory, that all in this world happens for the best.” +</p> + +<p> +The young girl was installed in a cabin, which the sailors soon got ready for +her, and which they made as comfortable as possible. +</p> + +<p> +A week later the “Jeune-Hardie” stopped at the Feroë Islands, but +the most minute search was fruitless. No wreck, or fragments of a ship had come +upon these coasts. Even the news of the event was quite unknown. The brig +resumed its voyage, after a stay of ten days, about the 10th of June. The sea +was calm, and the winds were favourable. The ship sped rapidly towards the +Norwegian coast, which it explored without better result. +</p> + +<p> +Jean Cornbutte determined to proceed to Bodoë. Perhaps he would there learn the +name of the shipwrecked schooner to succour which Louis and the sailors had +sacrificed themselves. +</p> + +<p> +On the 30th of June the brig cast anchor in that port. +</p> + +<p> +The authorities of Bodoë gave Jean Cornbutte a bottle found on the coast, which +contained a document bearing these words:— +</p> + +<p> +“This 26th April, on board the ‘Froöern,’ after being +accosted by the long-boat of the ‘Jeune-Hardie,’ we were drawn by +the currents towards the ice. God have pity on us!” +</p> + +<p> +Jean Cornbutte’s first impulse was to thank Heaven. He thought himself on +his son’s track. The “Froöern” was a Norwegian sloop of which +there had been no news, but which had evidently been drawn northward. +</p> + +<p> +Not a day was to be lost. The “Jeune-Hardie” was at once put in +condition to brave the perils of the polar seas. Fidèle Misonne, the carpenter, +carefully examined her, and assured himself that her solid construction might +resist the shock of the ice-masses. +</p> + +<p> +Penellan, who had already engaged in whale-fishing in the arctic waters, took +care that woollen and fur coverings, many sealskin moccassins, and wood for the +making of sledges with which to cross the ice-fields were put on board. The +amount of provisions was increased, and spirits and charcoal were added; for it +might be that they would have to winter at some point on the Greenland coast. +They also procured, with much difficulty and at a high price, 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, etc., as the steward’s room no longer sufficed. +They provided themselves, moreover, with a large quantity of +“pemmican,” an Indian preparation which concentrates a great deal +of nutrition within a small volume. +</p> + +<p> +By order of the captain, some saws were put on board for cutting the +ice-fields, as well as picks and wedges for separating them. The captain +determined to procure some dogs for drawing the sledges on the Greenland coast. +</p> + +<p> +The whole crew was engaged in these preparations, and displayed great activity. +The sailors Aupic, Gervique, and Gradlin zealously obeyed Penellan’s +orders; and he admonished them not to accustom themselves to woollen garments, +though the temperature in this latitude, situated just beyond the polar circle, +was very low. +</p> + +<p> +Penellan, though he said nothing, narrowly watched every action of André +Vasling. This man was Dutch by birth, came from no one knew whither, but was at +least a good sailor, having made two voyages on board the +“Jeune-Hardie”. Penellan would not as yet accuse him of anything, +unless it was that he kept near Marie too constantly, but he did not let him +out of his sight. +</p> + +<p> +Thanks to the energy of the crew, the brig was equipped by the 16th of July, a +fortnight after its arrival at Bodoë. It was then the favourable season for +attempting explorations in the Arctic Seas. The thaw had been going on for two +months, and the search might be carried farther north. The +“Jeune-Hardie” set sail, and directed her way towards Cape +Brewster, on the eastern coast of Greenland, near the 70th degree of latitude. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="winter_04"></a>CHAPTER IV.<br/> +IN THE PASSES.</h2> + +<p> +About the 23rd of July a reflection, raised above the sea, announced the +presence of the first icebergs, which, emerging from Davis’ Straits, +advanced into the ocean. From this moment a vigilant watch was ordered to the +look-out men, for it was important not to come into collision with these +enormous masses. +</p> + +<p> +The crew was divided into two watches. The first was composed of Fidèle +Misonne, Gradlin, and Gervique; and the second of Andre Vasling, Aupic, and +Penellan. These watches were to last only two hours, for in those cold regions +a man’s strength is diminished one-half. Though the +“Jeune-Hardie” was not yet beyond the 63rd degree of latitude, the +thermometer already stood at nine degrees centigrade below zero. +</p> + +<p> +Rain and snow often fell abundantly. On fair days, when the wind was not too +violent, Marie remained on deck, and her eyes became accustomed to the uncouth +scenes of the Polar Seas. +</p> + +<p> +On the 1st of August she was promenading aft, and talking with her uncle, +Penellan, and André Vasling. The ship was then entering a channel three miles +wide, across which broken masses of ice were rapidly descending southwards. +</p> + +<p> +“When shall we see land?” asked the young girl. +</p> + +<p> +“In three or four days at the latest,” replied Jean Cornbutte. +</p> + +<p> +“But shall we find there fresh traces of my poor Louis?” +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps so, my daughter; but I fear that we are still far from the end +of our voyage. It is to be feared that the ‘Froöern’ was driven +farther northward.” +</p> + +<p> +“That may be,” added André Vasling, “for the squall which +separated us from the Norwegian boat lasted three days, and in three days a +ship makes good headway when it is no longer able to resist the wind.” +</p> + +<p> +“Permit me to tell you, Monsieur Vasling.” replied Penellan, +“that that was in April, that the thaw had not then begun, and that +therefore the ‘Froöern’ must have been soon arrested by the +ice.” +</p> + +<p> +“And no doubt dashed into a thousand pieces,” said the mate, +“as her crew could not manage her.” +</p> + +<p> +“But these ice-fields,” returned Penellan, “gave her an easy +means of reaching land, from which she could not have been far distant.” +</p> + +<p> +“Let us hope so,” said Jean Cornbutte, interrupting the discussion, +which was daily renewed between the mate and the helmsman. “I think we +shall see land before long.” +</p> + +<p> +“There it is!” cried Marie. “See those mountains!” +</p> + +<p> +“No, my child,” replied her uncle. “Those are mountains of +ice, the first we have met with. They would shatter us like glass if we got +entangled between them. Penellan and Vasling, overlook the men.” +</p> + +<p> +These floating masses, more than fifty of which now appeared at the horizon, +came nearer and nearer to the brig. Penellan took the helm, and Jean Cornbutte, +mounted on the gallant, indicated the route to take. +</p> + +<p> +Towards evening the brig was entirely surrounded by these moving rocks, the +crushing force of which is irresistible. It was necessary, then, to cross this +fleet of mountains, for prudence prompted them to keep straight ahead. Another +difficulty was added to these perils. The direction of the ship could not be +accurately determined, as all the surrounding points constantly changed +position, and thus failed to afford a fixed perspective. The darkness soon +increased with the fog. Marie descended to her cabin, and the whole crew, by +the captain’s orders, remained on deck. They were armed with long +boat-poles, with iron spikes, to preserve the ship from collision with the ice. +</p> + +<p> +The ship soon entered a strait so narrow that often the ends of her yards were +grazed by the drifting mountains, and her booms seemed about to be driven in. +They were even forced to trim the mainyard so as to touch the shrouds. Happily +these precautions did not deprive, the vessel of any of its speed, for the wind +could only reach the upper sails, and these sufficed to carry her forward +rapidly. Thanks to her slender hull, she passed through these valleys, which +were filled with whirlpools of rain, whilst the icebergs crushed against each +other with sharp cracking and splitting. +</p> + +<p> +Jean Cornbutte returned to the deck. His eyes could not penetrate the +surrounding darkness. It became necessary to furl the upper sails, for the ship +threatened to ground, and if she did so she was lost. +</p> + +<p> +“Cursed voyage!” growled André Vasling among the sailors, who, +forward, were avoiding the most menacing ice-blocks with their boat-hooks. +</p> + +<p> +“Truly, if we escape we shall owe a fine candle to Our Lady of the +Ice!” replied Aupic. +</p> + +<p> +“Who knows how many floating mountains we have got to pass through +yet?” added the mate. +</p> + +<p> +“And who can guess what we shall find beyond them?” replied the +sailor. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t talk so much, prattler,” said Gervique, “and +look out on your side. When we have got by them, it’ll be time to +grumble. Look out for your boat-hook!” +</p> + +<p> +At this moment an enormous block of ice, in the narrow strait through which the +brig was passing, came rapidly down upon her, and it seemed impossible to avoid +it, for it barred the whole width of the channel, and the brig could not +heave-to. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you feel the tiller?” asked Cornbutte of Penellan. +</p> + +<p> +“No, captain. The ship does not answer the helm any longer.” +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Ohé</i>, boys!” cried the captain to the crew; +“don’t be afraid, and buttress your hooks against the +gunwale.” +</p> + +<p> +The block was nearly sixty feet high, and if it threw itself upon the brig she +would be crushed. There was an undefinable moment of suspense, and the crew +retreated backward, abandoning their posts despite the captain’s orders. +</p> + +<p> +But at the instant when the block was not more than half a cable’s length +from the “Jeune-Hardie,” a dull sound was heard, and a veritable +waterspout fell upon the bow of the vessel, which then rose on the back of an +enormous billow. +</p> + +<p> +The sailors uttered a cry of terror; but when they looked before them the block +had disappeared, the passage was free, and beyond an immense plain of water, +illumined by the rays of the declining sun, assured them of an easy navigation. +</p> + +<p> +“All’s well!” cried Penellan. “Let’s trim our +topsails and mizzen!” +</p> + +<p> +An incident very common in those parts had just occurred. When these 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 speedily undermined at the base, which melts little by little, and +which is also shaken by the shock of other ice-masses. A moment comes when the +centre of gravity of these masses is displaced, and then they are completely +overturned. Only, if this block had turned over two minutes later, it would +have fallen on the brig and carried her down in its fall. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="winter_05"></a>CHAPTER V.<br/> +LIVERPOOL ISLAND.</h2> + +<p> +The brig now sailed in a sea which was almost entirely open. At the horizon +only, a whitish light, this time motionless, indicated the presence of fixed +plains of ice. +</p> + +<p> +Jean Cornbutte now directed the “Jeune-Hardie” towards Cape +Brewster. They were already approaching the regions where the temperature is +excessively cold, for the sun’s rays, owing to their obliquity when they +reach them, are very feeble. +</p> + +<p> +On the 3rd of August the brig confronted immoveable and united ice-masses. The +passages were seldom more than a cable’s length in width, and the ship +was forced to make many turnings, which sometimes placed her heading the wind. +</p> + +<p> +Penellan watched over Marie with paternal care, and, despite the cold, +prevailed upon her to spend two or three hours every day on deck, for exercise +had become one of the indispensable conditions of health. +</p> + +<p> +Marie’s courage did not falter. She even comforted the sailors with her +cheerful talk, and all of them became warmly attached to her. André Vasling +showed himself more attentive than ever, and seized every occasion to be in her +company; but the young girl, with a sort of presentiment, accepted his services +with some coldness. It may be easily conjectured that André’s +conversation referred more to the future than to the present, and that he did +not conceal the slight probability there was of saving the castaways. He was +convinced that they were lost, and the young girl ought thenceforth to confide +her existence to some one else. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<a name="image35"></a> +<img src="images/image35.jpg" width="416" height="600" alt="[Illustration: ]" /> +<p class="caption">André Vasling showed himself more attentive than ever. +</p> +</div> + +<p> +Marie had not as yet comprehended André’s designs, for, to his great +disgust, he could never find an opportunity to talk long with her alone. +Penellan had always an excuse for interfering, and destroying the effect of +Andre’s words by the hopeful opinions he expressed. +</p> + +<p> +Marie, meanwhile, did not remain idle. Acting on the helmsman’s advice, +she set to work on her winter garments; for it was necessary that she should +completely change her clothing. The cut of her dresses was not suitable for +these cold latitudes. She made, therefore, a sort of furred pantaloons, the +ends of which were lined with seal-skin; and her narrow skirts came only to her +knees, so as not to be in contact with the layers of snow with which the winter +would cover the ice-fields. A fur mantle, fitting closely to the figure and +supplied with a hood, protected the upper part of her body. +</p> + +<p> +In the intervals of their work, the sailors, too, prepared clothing with which +to shelter themselves from the cold. They made a quantity of high seal-skin +boots, with which to cross the snow during their explorations. They worked thus +all the time that the navigation in the straits lasted. +</p> + +<p> +André Vasling, who was an excellent shot, several times brought down aquatic +birds with his gun; innumerable flocks of these were always careering about the +ship. A kind of eider-duck provided the crew with very palatable food, which +relieved the monotony of the salt meat. +</p> + +<p> +At last the brig, after many turnings, came in sight of Cape Brewster. A +long-boat was put to sea. Jean Cornbutte and Penellan reached the coast, which +was entirely deserted. +</p> + +<p> +The ship at once directed its course towards Liverpool Island, discovered in +1821 by Captain Scoresby, and the crew gave a hearty cheer when they saw the +natives running along the shore. Communication was speedily established with +them, thanks to Penellan’s knowledge of a few words of their language, +and some phrases which the natives themselves had learnt of the whalers who +frequented those parts. +</p> + +<p> +These Greenlanders were small and squat; they were not more than four feet ten +inches high; they had red, round faces, and low foreheads; their hair, flat and +black, fell over their shoulders; their teeth were decayed, and they seemed to +be affected by the sort of leprosy which is peculiar to ichthyophagous tribes. +</p> + +<p> +In exchange for pieces of iron and brass, of which they are extremely covetous, +these poor creatures brought bear furs, the skins of sea-calves, sea-dogs, +sea-wolves, and all the animals generally known as seals. Jean Cornbutte +obtained these at a low price, and they were certain to become most useful. +</p> + +<p> +The captain then made the natives understand that he was in search of a +shipwrecked vessel, and asked them if they had heard of it. One of them +immediately drew something like a ship on the snow, and indicated that a vessel +of that sort had been carried northward three months before: he also managed to +make it understood that the thaw and breaking up of the ice-fields had +prevented 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. +</p> + +<p> +This news, though meagre, restored hope to the hearts of the sailors, and Jean +Cornbutte had no difficulty in persuading them to advance farther in the polar +seas. +</p> + +<p> +Before quitting Liverpool Island, the captain purchased a pack of six Esquimaux +dogs, which were soon acclimatised on board. The ship weighed anchor on the +morning of the 10th of August, and entered the northern straits under a brisk +wind. +</p> + +<p> +The longest days of the year had now arrived; that is, the sun, in these high +latitudes, did not set, and reached the highest point of the spirals which it +described above the horizon. +</p> + +<p> +This total absence of night was not, however, very apparent, for the fog, rain, +and snow sometimes enveloped the ship in real darkness. +</p> + +<p> +Jean Cornbutte, who was resolved to advance as far as possible, began to take +measures of health. The space between decks was securely enclosed, and every +morning care was taken to ventilate it with fresh air. The stoves were +installed, and the pipes so disposed as to yield as much heat as possible. The +sailors were advised to wear only one woollen shirt over their cotton shirts, +and to hermetically close their seal cloaks. The fires were not yet lighted, +for it was important to reserve the wood and charcoal for the most intense +cold. +</p> + +<p> +Warm beverages, such as coffee and tea, were regularly distributed to the +sailors morning and evening; and as it was important to live on meat, they shot +ducks and teal, which abounded in these parts. +</p> + +<p> +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 a look-out remained +constantly, to observe the icefields. +</p> + +<p> +Two days after the brig had lost sight of Liverpool Island the temperature +became suddenly colder under the influence of a dry wind. Some indications of +winter were perceived. The ship had not a moment to lose, for soon the way +would be entirely closed to her. She advanced across the straits, among which +lay ice-plains thirty feet thick. +</p> + +<p> +On the morning of the 3rd of September the “Jeune-Hardie” reached +the head of Gaël-Hamkes Bay. Land was then thirty miles to the leeward. It was +the first time that the brig had stopped before a mass of ice which offered no +outlet, and which was at least a mile 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 the cutting was so +determined that the current might carry off the pieces detached from the mass. +The whole crew worked at this task for nearly twenty hours. They found it very +painful to remain on the ice, and were often obliged to plunge into the water +up to their middle; their seal-skin garments protected them but imperfectly +from the damp. +</p> + +<p> +Moreover all excessive toil in those high latitudes is soon followed by an +overwhelming weariness; for the breath soon fails, and the strongest are forced +to rest at frequent intervals. +</p> + +<p> +At last the navigation became free, and the brig was towed beyond the mass +which had so long obstructed her course. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="winter_06"></a>CHAPTER VI.<br/> +THE QUAKING OF THE ICE.</h2> + +<p> +For several days the “Jeune-Hardie” struggled against formidable +obstacles. The crew were almost all the time at work with the saws, and often +powder had to be used to blow up the enormous blocks of ice which closed the +way. +</p> + +<p> +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 temperature remained at an average of sixteen degrees +below zero. The winter season had come on, with its sufferings and dangers. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<a name="image36"></a> +<img src="images/image36.jpg" width="417" height="600" alt="[Illustration: ]" /> +<p class="caption">On the 12th of September the sea consisted of one solid +plain. +</p> +</div> + +<p> +The “Jeune-Hardie” was then near the 21st degree of longitude west +and the 76th degree of latitude north, at the entrance of Gaël-Hamkes Bay. +</p> + +<p> +Jean Cornbutte made his preliminary preparations for wintering. He first +searched for a creek whose position would shelter the ship from the wind and +breaking up of the ice. Land, which was probably thirty miles west, could alone +offer him secure shelter, and he resolved to attempt to reach it. +</p> + +<p> +He set out on the 12th of September, accompanied by André Vasling, Penellan, +and the two sailors Gradlin and Turquiette. Each man carried provisions for two +days, for it was not likely that their expedition would occupy a longer time, +and they were supplied with skins on which to sleep. +</p> + +<p> +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 into crevices. Penellan, who walked in +front, carefully sounded each depression with his iron-pointed staff. +</p> + +<p> +About five in the evening the fog began to thicken, and the little band were +forced to stop. Penellan looked about for an iceberg which might shelter them +from the wind, and after refreshing themselves, with regrets that they had no +warm drink, they spread their skins on the snow, wrapped themselves up, lay +close to each other, and soon dropped asleep from sheer fatigue. +</p> + +<p> +The next morning Jean Cornbutte and his companions were buried beneath a bed of +snow more than a foot deep. Happily their skins, perfectly impermeable, had +preserved them, and the snow itself had aided in retaining their heat, which it +prevented from escaping. +</p> + +<p> +The captain gave the signal of departure, and about noon they at last descried +the coast, which at first they could scarcely distinguish. High ledges of ice, +cut perpendicularly, rose on the shore; 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 into the depths. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ faith!” said Penellan, “we shall not want for +either furs or game!” +</p> + +<p> +“Those animals,” returned Cornbutte, “give every evidence of +having been already visited by men; for in places totally uninhabited they +would not be so wild.” +</p> + +<p> +“None but Greenlanders frequent these parts,” said André Vasling. +</p> + +<p> +“I see no trace of their passage, however; neither any encampment nor the +smallest hut,” said Penellan, who had climbed up a high peak. “O +captain!” he continued, “come here! I see a point of land which +will shelter us splendidly from the north-east wind.” +</p> + +<p> +“Come along, boys!” said Jean Cornbutte. +</p> + +<p> +His companions followed him, and they soon rejoined Penellan. The sailor had +said what was true. An elevated point of land jutted out like a promontory, and +curving towards the coast, formed a little 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 frozen over. +</p> + +<p> +This was an excellent spot for wintering, and it only remained to get the ship +thither. Jean Cornbutte remarked that the neighbouring ice-field was very +thick, and it seemed very difficult to cut a canal to bring the brig to its +destination. Some other creek, then, must be found; it was in vain that he +explored northward. The coast remained steep and abrupt for a long distance, +and beyond the point it was directly exposed to the attacks of the east-wind. +The circumstance disconcerted the captain all the more because André Vasling +used strong arguments to show how bad the situation was. Penellan, in this +dilemma, found it difficult to convince himself that all was for the best. +</p> + +<p> +But one chance remained—to seek a shelter on the southern side of the +coast. This was to return on their path, but hesitation was useless. The little +band returned rapidly in the direction of the ship, as their provisions had +begun to run short. Jean Cornbutte searched for some practicable passage, or at +least some fissure by which a canal might be cut across the ice-fields, all +along the route, but in vain. +</p> + +<p> +Towards evening the sailors came to the same place where they had encamped over +night. There had been no snow during the day, and they could recognize the +imprint of their bodies on the ice. They again disposed themselves to sleep +with their furs. +</p> + +<p> +Penellan, much disturbed by the bad success of the expedition, was sleeping +restlessly, when, at a waking moment, his attention was attracted by a dull +rumbling. He listened attentively, and the rumbling seemed so strange that he +nudged Jean Cornbutte with his elbow. +</p> + +<p> +“What is that?” said the latter, whose mind, according to a +sailor’s habit, was awake as soon as his body. +</p> + +<p> +“Listen, captain.” +</p> + +<p> +The noise increased, with perceptible violence. +</p> + +<p> +“It cannot be thunder, in so high a latitude,” said Cornbutte, +rising. +</p> + +<p> +“I think we have come across some white bears,” replied Penellan. +</p> + +<p> +“The devil! We have not seen any yet.” +</p> + +<p> +“Sooner or later, we must have expected a visit from them. Let us give +them a good reception.” +</p> + +<p> +Penellan, armed with a gun, lightly crossed the ledge which sheltered them. The +darkness was very dense; he could discover nothing; but a new incident soon +showed him that the cause of the noise did not proceed from around them. +</p> + +<p> +Jean Cornbutte rejoined him, and they observed with terror that this rumbling, +which awakened their companions, came from beneath them. +</p> + +<p> +A new kind of peril menaced them. To the noise, which resembled peals of +thunder, was added a distinct undulating motion of the ice-field. Several of +the party lost their balance and fell. +</p> + +<p> +“Attention!” cried Penellan. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes!” some one responded. +</p> + +<p> +“Turquiette! Gradlin! where are you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Here I am!” responded Turquiette, shaking off the snow with which +he was covered. +</p> + +<p> +“This way, Vasling,” cried Cornbutte to the mate. “And +Gradlin?” +</p> + +<p> +“Present, captain. But we are lost!” shouted Gradlin, in fright. +</p> + +<p> +“No!” said Penellan. “Perhaps we are saved!” +</p> + +<p> +Hardly had he uttered these words when a frightful cracking noise was heard. +The ice-field broke clear through, and the sailors were forced to cling to the +block which was quivering just by them. Despite the helmsman’s words, +they found themselves in a most perilous position, for an ice-quake had +occurred. The ice masses had just “weighed anchor,” as the sailors +say. The movement lasted nearly two minutes, and it was to be feared that the +crevice would yawn at the very feet of the unhappy sailors. They anxiously +awaited daylight in the midst of continuous shocks, for they could not, without +risk of death, move a step, and had to remain stretched out at full length to +avoid being engulfed. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<a name="image37"></a> +<img src="images/image37.jpg" width="418" height="600" alt="[Illustration: ]" /> +<p class="caption">they found themselves in a most perilous position, for an +ice-quake had occurred. +</p> +</div> + +<p> +As soon as it was daylight a very different aspect presented itself to their +eyes. The vast plain, a compact mass the evening before, was now separated in a +thousand places, and the waves, raised by some submarine commotion, had broken +the thick layer which sheltered them. +</p> + +<p> +The thought of his ship occurred to Jean Cornbutte’s mind. +</p> + +<p> +“My poor brig!” he cried. “It must have perished!” +</p> + +<p> +The deepest despair began to overcast the faces of his companions. The loss of +the ship inevitably preceded their own deaths. +</p> + +<p> +“Courage, friends,” said Penellan. “Reflect that this +night’s disaster has opened us a path across the ice, which will enable +us to bring our ship to the bay for wintering! And, stop! I am not mistaken. +There is the ‘Jeune-Hardie,’ a mile nearer to us!” +</p> + +<p> +All hurried forward, and so imprudently, that Turquiette slipped into a +fissure, and would have certainly perished, had not Jean Cornbutte seized him +by his hood. He got off with a rather cold bath. +</p> + +<p> +The brig was indeed floating two miles away. After infinite trouble, the little +band reached her. She was in good condition; but her rudder, which they had +neglected to lift, had been broken by the ice. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="winter_07"></a>CHAPTER VII.<br/> +SETTLING FOR THE WINTER.</h2> + +<p> +Penellan was once more right; all was for the best, and this ice-quake had +opened a practicable channel for the ship to the bay. The sailors had only to +make skilful use of the currents to conduct her thither. +</p> + +<p> +On the 19th of September the brig was at last moored in her bay for wintering, +two cables’ lengths from the shore, securely anchored on a good bottom. +The ice began the next day to form around her hull; it soon became strong +enough to bear a man’s weight, and they could establish a communication +with land. +</p> + +<p> +The rigging, as is customary in arctic navigation, remained as it was; the +sails were carefully furled on the yards and covered with their casings, and +the “crow’s-nest” remained in place, as much to enable them +to make distant observations as to attract attention to the ship. +</p> + +<p> +The sun now scarcely rose above the horizon. Since the June solstice, the +spirals which it had described descended lower and lower; and it would soon +disappear altogether. +</p> + +<p> +The crew hastened to make the necessary preparations. Penellan supervised the +whole. The ice was soon thick around the ship, and it was to be feared that its +pressure might become dangerous; but Penellan waited until, by reason of the +going and coming of the floating ice-masses and their adherence, it had reached +a thickness of twenty feet; he then had it cut around the hull, so that it +united under the ship, the form of which it assumed; thus enclosed in a mould, +the brig had no longer to fear the pressure of the ice, which could make no +movement. +</p> + +<p> +The sailors then elevated along the wales, to the height of the nettings, a +snow wall five or six feet thick, which soon froze as hard as a rock. This +envelope did not allow the interior heat to escape outside. A canvas tent, +covered with skins and hermetically closed, was stretched aver the whole length +of the deck, and formed a sort of walk for the sailors. +</p> + +<p> +They also constructed on the ice a storehouse of snow, in which articles which +embarrassed the ship were stowed away. The partitions of the cabins were taken +down, so as to form a single vast apartment forward, as well as aft. This +single room, besides, was more easy to warm, as the ice and damp found fewer +corners in which to take refuge. It was also less difficult to ventilate it, by +means of canvas funnels which opened without. +</p> + +<p> +Each sailor exerted great energy in these preparations, and about the 25th of +September they were completed. André Vasling had not shown himself the least +active in this task. He devoted himself with 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 to Penellan; he recalled several incidents which completely enlightened him +regarding his mate’s intentions; André Vasling loved Marie, and reckoned +on asking her uncle for her hand, as soon as it was proved beyond doubt that +the castaways were irrevocably lost; they would return then to Dunkirk, and +André Vasling would be well satisfied to wed a rich and pretty girl, who would +then be the sole heiress of Jean Cornbutte. +</p> + +<p> +But André, in his impatience, was often imprudent. He had several times +declared that the search for the castaways was useless, when some new trace +contradicted him, and enabled Penellan to exult over him. The mate, therefore, +cordially detested the helmsman, who returned his dislike heartily. Penellan +only feared that André might sow seeds of dissension among the crew, and +persuaded Jean Cornbutte to answer him evasively on the first occasion. +</p> + +<p> +When the preparations for the winter were completed, the captain took measures +to preserve the health of the crew. Every morning the men were ordered to air +their berths, and carefully clean the interior walls, to get rid of the +night’s dampness. They received boiling tea or coffee, which are +excellent cordials to use against the cold, morning and evening; then they were +divided into hunting-parties, who should procure as much fresh nourishment as +possible for every day. +</p> + +<p> +Each one also took healthy exercise every day, so as not to expose himself +without motion to the cold; for in a temperature thirty degrees below zero, +some part of the body might suddenly become frozen. In such cases friction of +the snow was used, which alone could heal the affected part. +</p> + +<p> +Penellan also strongly advised cold ablutions every morning. It required some +courage to plunge the hands and face in the snow, which had to be melted +within. But Penellan bravely set the example, and Marie was not the last to +imitate him. +</p> + +<p> +Jean Cornbutte did not forget to have readings and prayers, for it was needful +that the hearts of his comrades should not give way to despair or weariness. +Nothing is more dangerous in these desolate latitudes. +</p> + +<p> +The sky, always gloomy, filled the soul with sadness. A thick snow, lashed by +violent winds, added to the horrors of their situation. The sun would soon +altogether disappear. Had the clouds not gathered in masses above their heads, +they might have enjoyed the moonlight, which was about to become really their +sun during the long polar night; but, with the west winds, the snow did not +cease to fall. Every morning it was necessary to clear off the sides of the +ship, and to cut a new stairway in the ice to enable them to reach the +ice-field. They easily succeeded in doing this with snow-knives; the steps once +cut, a little water was thrown over them, and they at once hardened. +</p> + +<p> +Penellan had a hole cut in the ice, not far from the ship. Every day the new +crust which formed over its top was broken, and the water which was drawn +thence, from a certain depth, was less cold than that at the surface. +</p> + +<p> +All these preparations occupied about three weeks. It was then time to go +forward with the search. The ship was imprisoned for six or seven months, and +only the next thaw could open a new route across the ice. It was wise, then, to +profit by this delay, and extend their explorations northward. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="winter_08"></a>CHAPTER VIII.<br/> +PLAN OF THE EXPLORATIONS.</h2> + +<p> +On the 9th of October, Jean Cornbutte held a council to settle the plan of his +operations, to which, that there might be union, zeal, and courage on the part +of every one, he admitted the whole crew. Map in hand, he clearly explained +their situation. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<a name="image38"></a> +<img src="images/image38.jpg" width="422" height="600" alt="[Illustration: ]" /> +<p class="caption">Map in hand, he clearly explained their situation. +</p> +</div> + +<p> +The eastern coast of Greenland advances perpendicularly northward. The +discoveries of the navigators have given the exact boundaries of those parts. +In the extent of five hundred leagues, which separates Greenland from +Spitzbergen, no land has been found. An island (Shannon Island) lay a hundred +miles north of Gaël-Hamkes Bay, where the “Jeune-Hardie” was +wintering. +</p> + +<p> +If the Norwegian schooner, as was most probable, had been driven in this +direction, supposing that she could not reach Shannon Island, it was here that +Louis Cornbutte and his comrades must have sought for a winter asylum. +</p> + +<p> +This opinion prevailed, despite André Vasling’s opposition; and it was +decided to direct the explorations on the side towards Shannon Island. +</p> + +<p> +Arrangements for this were at once begun. A sledge like that used by the +Esquimaux had been procured on the Norwegian coast. This was constructed of +planks curved before and behind, and was made to slide over the snow and ice. +It was twelve feet long and four wide, and could therefore carry provisions, if +need were, for several weeks. Fidèle Misonne soon put it in order, working upon +it 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. The pipe was carried out through one of the lateral +walls, by a hole pierced in the snow; but a grave inconvenience resulted from +this,—for the heat of the stove, little by little, melted the snow where +it came in contact with it; and the opening visibly increased. Jean Cornbutte +contrived to surround this part of the pipe with some metallic canvas, which is +impermeable by heat. This succeeded completely. +</p> + +<p> +While Misonne was at work upon the sledge, Penellan, aided by Marie, was +preparing the clothing necessary for the expedition. Seal-skin boots they had, +fortunately, in plenty. Jean Cornbutte and André Vasling occupied themselves +with the provisions. They chose a small barrel of spirits-of-wine for heating a +portable chafing-dish; reserves of coffee and tea in ample quantity were +packed; a small box of biscuits, two hundred pounds of pemmican, and some +gourds of brandy completed the stock of viands. The guns would bring down some +fresh game every day. A quantity of powder was divided between several bags; +the compass, sextant, and spy-glass were put carefully out of the way of +injury. +</p> + +<p> +On the 11th of October the sun no longer appeared above the horizon. They were +obliged to keep a lighted lamp in the lodgings of the crew all the time. There +was no time to lose; the explorations must be begun. For this reason: in the +month of January it would become so cold that it would be impossible to venture +out without peril of life. For two months at least the crew would be condemned +to the most complete imprisonment; then the thaw would begin, and continue till +the time when the ship should quit the ice. This thaw would, of course, prevent +any explorations. On the other hand, if Louis Cornbutte and his comrades were +still in existence, it was not probable that they would be able to resist the +severities of the arctic winter. They must therefore be saved beforehand, or +all hope would be lost. André Vasling knew all this better than any one. He +therefore resolved to put every possible obstacle in the way of the expedition. +</p> + +<p> +The preparations for the journey were completed about the 20th of October. It +remained to select the men who should compose the party. The young girl could +not be deprived of the protection of Jean Cornbutte or of Penellan; neither of +these could, on the other hand, be spared from the expedition. +</p> + +<p> +The question, then, was whether Marie could bear the fatigues of such a +journey. She had already passed through rough experiences without seeming to +suffer from them, for she was a sailor’s daughter, used from infancy to +the fatigues of the sea, and even Penellan was not dismayed to see her +struggling in the midst of this severe climate, against the dangers of the +polar seas. +</p> + +<p> +It was decided, therefore, after a long discussion, that she should go with +them, and that a place should be reserved for her, at need, on the sledge, on +which a little wooden hut was constructed, closed in hermetically. As for +Marie, she was delighted, for she dreaded to be left alone without her two +protectors. +</p> + +<p> +The expedition was thus formed: Marie, Jean Cornbutte, Penellan, André Vasling, +Aupic, and Fidèle Misonne were to go. Alaine Turquiette remained in charge of +the brig, and Gervique and Gradlin stayed behind with him. New provisions of +all kinds were carried; for Jean Cornbutte, in order to carry the exploration +as far as possible, had resolved to establish depôts along the route, at each +seven or eight days’ march. When the sledge was ready it was at once +fitted up, and covered with a skin tent. The whole weighed some seven hundred +pounds, which a pack of five dogs might easily carry over the ice. +</p> + +<p> +On the 22nd of October, as the captain had foretold, a sudden change took place +in the temperature. The sky cleared, the stars emitted an extraordinary light, +and the moon shone above the horizon, no longer to leave the heavens for a +fortnight. The thermometer descended to twenty-five degrees below zero. +</p> + +<p> +The departure was fixed for the following day. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="winter_09"></a>CHAPTER IX.<br/> +THE HOUSE OF SNOW.</h2> + +<p> +On the 23rd of October, at eleven in the morning, in a fine moonlight, the +caravan set out. Precautions were this time taken that the journey might be a +long one, if necessary. Jean Cornbutte followed the coast, and ascended +northward. The steps of the travellers made no impression on the hard ice. Jean +was forced to guide himself by points which he selected at a distance; +sometimes he fixed upon a hill bristling with peaks; sometimes on a vast +iceberg which pressure had raised above the plain. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<a name="image39"></a> +<img src="images/image39.jpg" width="421" height="600" alt="[Illustration: ]" /> +<p class="caption">The caravan set out +</p> +</div> + +<p> +At the first halt, after going fifteen miles, Penellan prepared to encamp. The +tent was erected against an ice-block. Marie had not suffered seriously with +the extreme cold, for luckily the breeze had subsided, and was much more +bearable; but the young girl had several times been obliged to descend from her +sledge to avert numbness from impeding the circulation of her blood. Otherwise, +her little hut, hung with skins, afforded her all the comfort possible under +the circumstances. +</p> + +<p> +When night, or rather sleeping-time, came, the little hut was carried under the +tent, where it served as a bed-room for Marie. The evening repast was composed +of fresh meat, pemmican, and hot tea. Jean Cornbutte, to avert danger of the +scurvy, distributed to each of the party a few drops of lemon-juice. Then all +slept under God’s protection. +</p> + +<p> +After eight hours of repose, they got ready to resume their march. A +substantial breakfast was provided to the men and the dogs; then they set out. +The ice, exceedingly compact, enabled these animals to draw the sledge easily. +The party sometimes found it difficult to keep up with them. +</p> + +<p> +But the sailors soon began to suffer one discomfort—that of being +dazzled. Ophthalmia betrayed itself in Aupic and Misonne. The moon’s +light, striking on these vast white plains, burnt the eyesight, and gave the +eyes insupportable pain. +</p> + +<p> +There was thus produced a very singular effect of refraction. As they walked, +when they thought they were about to put foot on a hillock, they stepped down +lower, which often occasioned falls, happily so little serious that Penellan +made them occasions for bantering. Still, he told them never to take a step +without sounding the ground with the ferruled staff with which each was +equipped. +</p> + +<p> +About the 1st of November, ten days after they had set out, the caravan had +gone fifty leagues to the northward. Weariness pressed heavily on all. Jean +Cornbutte was painfully dazzled, and his sight sensibly changed. Aupic and +Misonne had to feel their way: for their eyes, rimmed with red, seemed burnt by +the white reflection. Marie had been preserved from this misfortune by +remaining within her hut, to which she confined herself as much as possible. +Penellan, sustained by an indomitable courage, resisted all fatigue. But it was +André Vasling who bore himself best, and upon whom the cold and dazzling seemed +to produce no effect. His iron frame was equal to every hardship; and he was +secretly pleased to see the most robust of his companions becoming discouraged, +and already foresaw the moment when they would be forced to retreat to the ship +again. +</p> + +<p> +On the 1st of November it became absolutely necessary to halt for a day or two. +As soon as the place for the encampment had been selected, they proceeded to +arrange it. It was determined to erect a house of snow, which should be +supported against one of the rocks of the promontory. Misonne at once marked +out the foundations, which measured fifteen feet long by five wide. Penellan, +Aupic, and Misonne, by aid of their knives, cut out great blocks of ice, which +they carried to the chosen spot and set up, as masons would have built stone +walls. The sides of the foundation were soon raised to a height and thickness +of about five feet; for the materials were abundant, and the structure was +intended to be sufficiently solid to last several days. The four walls were +completed in eight hours; an opening had been left on the southern side, and +the canvas of the tent, placed on these four walls, fell over the opening and +sheltered it. It only remained to cover the whole with large blocks, to form +the roof of this temporary structure. +</p> + +<p> +After three more hours of hard work, the house was done; and they all went into +it, overcome with weariness and discouragement. Jean Cornbutte suffered so much +that he could not walk, and André Vasling so skilfully aggravated his gloomy +feelings, that he forced from him a promise not to pursue his search farther in +those frightful solitudes. Penellan did not know which saint to invoke. He +thought it unworthy and craven to give up his companions for reasons which had +little weight, and tried to upset them; but in vain. +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile, though it had been decided to return, rest had become so necessary +that for three days no preparations for departure were made. +</p> + +<p> +On the 4th of November, Jean Cornbutte began to bury on a point of the coast +the provisions for which there was no use. A stake indicated the place of the +deposit, in the improbable event that new explorations should be made in that +direction. Every day since they had set out similar deposits had been made, so +that they were assured of ample sustenance on the return, without the trouble +of carrying them on the sledge. +</p> + +<p> +The departure was fixed for ten in the morning, on the 5th. The most profound +sadness filled the little band. Marie with difficulty restrained her tears, +when she saw her uncle so completely discouraged. So many useless sufferings! +so much labour lost! Penellan himself became ferocious in his ill-humour; he +consigned everybody to the nether regions, and did not cease to wax angry at +the weakness and cowardice of his comrades, who were more timid and tired, he +said, than Marie, who would have gone to the end of the world without +complaint. +</p> + +<p> +André Vasling could not disguise the pleasure which this decision gave him. He +showed himself more attentive than ever to the young girl, to whom he even held +out hopes that a new search should be made when the winter was over; knowing +well that it would then be too late! +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="winter_10"></a>CHAPTER X.<br/> +BURIED ALIVE.</h2> + +<p> +The evening before the departure, just as they were about to take supper, +Penellan was breaking up some empty casks for firewood, when he was suddenly +suffocated by a thick smoke. At the same instant the snow-house was shaken as +if by an earthquake. The party uttered a cry of terror, and Penellan hurried +outside. +</p> + +<p> +It was entirely dark. A frightful tempest—for it was not a thaw—was +raging, whirlwinds of snow careered around, and it was so exceedingly cold that +the helmsman felt his hands rapidly freezing. He was obliged to go in again, +after rubbing himself violently with snow. +</p> + +<p> +“It is a tempest,” said he. “May heaven grant that our house +may withstand it, for, if the storm should destroy it, we should be +lost!” +</p> + +<p> +At the same time with the gusts of wind a noise was heard beneath the frozen +soil; icebergs, broken from the promontory, dashed away noisily, and fell upon +one another; the wind blew with such violence that it seemed sometimes as if +the whole house moved from its foundation; phosphorescent lights, inexplicable +in that latitude, flashed across the whirlwinds of the snow. +</p> + +<p> +“Marie! Marie!” cried Penellan, seizing the young girl’s +hands. +</p> + +<p> +“We are in a bad case!” said Misonne. +</p> + +<p> +“And I know not whether we shall escape,” replied Aupic. +</p> + +<p> +“Let us quit this snow-house!” said André Vasling. +</p> + +<p> +“Impossible!” returned Penellan. “The cold outside is +terrible; perhaps we can bear it by staying here.” +</p> + +<p> +“Give me the thermometer,” demanded Vasling. +</p> + +<p> +Aupic handed it to him. It showed ten degrees below zero inside the house, +though the fire was lighted. Vasling raised the canvas which covered the +opening, and pushed it aside hastily; for he would have been lacerated by the +fall of ice which the wind hurled around, and which fell in a perfect +hail-storm. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, Vasling,” said Penellan, “will you go out, then? You +see that we are more safe here.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said Jean Cornbutte; “and we must use every effort to +strengthen the house in the interior.” +</p> + +<p> +“But a still more terrible danger menaces us,” said Vasling. +</p> + +<p> +“What?” asked Jean. +</p> + +<p> +“The wind is breaking the ice against which we are propped, just as it +has that of the promontory, and we shall be either driven out or buried!” +</p> + +<p> +“That seems doubtful,” said Penellan, “for it is freezing +hard enough to ice over all liquid surfaces. Let us see what the temperature +is.” +</p> + +<p> +He raised the canvas so as to pass out his arm, and with difficulty found the +thermometer again, in the midst of the snow; but he at last succeeded in +seizing it, and, holding the lamp to it, said,— +</p> + +<p> +“Thirty-two degrees below zero! It is the coldest we have seen here +yet!” +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<a name="image40"></a> +<img src="images/image40.jpg" width="420" height="600" alt="[Illustration: ]" /> +<p class="caption">“Thirty-two degrees below zero!” +</p> +</div> + +<p> +“Ten degrees more,” said Vasling, “and the mercury will +freeze!” +</p> + +<p> +A mournful silence followed this remark. +</p> + +<p> +About eight in the morning Penellan essayed a second time to go out to judge of +their situation. It was necessary to give an escape to the smoke, which the +wind had several times repelled into the hut. The sailor wrapped his cloak +tightly about him, made sure of his hood by fastening it to his head with a +handkerchief, and raised the canvas. +</p> + +<p> +The opening was entirely obstructed by a resisting snow. Penellan took his +staff, and succeeded in plunging it into the compact mass; but terror froze his +blood when he perceived that the end of the staff was not free, and was checked +by a hard body! +</p> + +<p> +“Cornbutte,” said he to the captain, who had come up to him, +“we are buried under this snow!” +</p> + +<p> +“What say you?” cried Jean Cornbutte. +</p> + +<p> +“I say that the snow is massed and frozen around us and over us, and that +we are buried alive!” +</p> + +<p> +“Let us try to clear this mass of snow away,” replied the captain. +</p> + +<p> +The two friends buttressed themselves against the obstacle which obstructed the +opening, but they could not move it. The snow formed an iceberg more than five +feet thick, and had become literally 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 than ever, poured +into the house, for it could not find an issue. +</p> + +<p> +“Malediction!” cried Misonne. “The pipe of the stove is +sealed up by the ice!” +</p> + +<p> +Penellan resumed his staff, and took down the pipe, after throwing snow on the +embers to extinguish them, which produced such a smoke that the light of the +lamp could scarcely be seen; then he tried with his staff to clear out the +orifice, but he only encountered a rock of ice! A frightful end, preceded by a +terrible agony, seemed to be their doom! The smoke, penetrating the throats of +the unfortunate party, caused an insufferable pain, and air would soon fail +them altogether! +</p> + +<p> +Marie here rose, and her presence, which inspired Cornbutte with despair, +imparted some courage to Penellan. He said to himself that it could not be that +the poor girl was destined to so horrible a death. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah!” said she, “you have made too much fire. The room is +full of smoke!” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, yes,” stammered Penellan. +</p> + +<p> +“It is evident,” resumed Marie, “for it is not cold, and it +is long since we have felt too much heat.” +</p> + +<p> +No one dared to tell her the truth. +</p> + +<p> +“See, Marie,” said Penellan bluntly, “help us get breakfast +ready. It is too cold to go out. Here is the chafing-dish, the spirit, and the +coffee. Come, you others, a little pemmican first, as this wretched storm +forbids us from hunting.” +</p> + +<p> +These words stirred up his comrades. +</p> + +<p> +“Let us first eat,” added Penellan, “and then we shall see +about getting off.” +</p> + +<p> +Penellan set the example and devoured his share of the breakfast. His comrades +imitated him, and then drank a cup of boiling coffee, which somewhat restored +their spirits. Then Jean Cornbutte decided energetically that they should at +once set about devising means of safety. +</p> + +<p> +André Vasling now said,— +</p> + +<p> +“If the storm is still raging, which is probable, we must be buried ten +feet under the ice, for we can hear no noise outside.” +</p> + +<p> +Penellan looked at Marie, who now understood the truth, and did not tremble. +The helmsman first heated, by the flame of the spirit, the iron point of his +staff, and successfully introduced it into the four walls of ice, but he could +find no issue in either. Cornbutte then resolved to cut out an opening in the +door itself. The ice was so hard that it was difficult for the knives to make +the least impression on it. The pieces which were cut off soon encumbered the +hut. After working hard for two hours, they had only hollowed out a space three +feet deep. +</p> + +<p> +Some more rapid method, and one which was less likely to demolish the house, +must be thought of; for the farther they advanced the more violent became the +effort to break off the compact ice. It occurred to Penellan to make use of the +chafing-dish to melt the ice in the direction they wanted. It was a hazardous +method, for, if their imprisonment lasted long, the spirit, of which they had +but little, would be wanting when needed to prepare the meals. Nevertheless, +the idea was welcomed on all hands, and was put in execution. They first cut a +hole three feet deep by one in diameter, to receive the water which would +result from the melting of the ice; and it was well that they took this +precaution, for the water soon dripped under the action of the flames, which +Penellan moved about under the mass of ice. The opening widened little by +little, but this kind of work could not be continued long, for the water, +covering their clothes, penetrated to their bodies here and there. Penellan was +obliged to pause in a quarter of an hour, and to withdraw the chafing-dish in +order to dry himself. Misonne then took his place, and worked sturdily at the +task. +</p> + +<p> +In two hours, though the opening was five feet deep, the points of the staffs +could not yet find an issue without. +</p> + +<p> +“It is not possible,” said Jean Cornbutte, “that snow could +have fallen in such abundance. It must have been gathered on this point by the +wind. Perhaps we had better think of escaping in some other direction.” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know,” replied Penellan; “but if it were only +for the sake of not discouraging our comrades, we ought to continue to pierce +the wall where we have begun. We must find an issue ere long.” +</p> + +<p> +“Will not the spirit fail us?” asked the captain. +</p> + +<p> +“I hope not. But let us, if necessary, dispense with coffee and hot +drinks. Besides, that is not what most alarms me.” +</p> + +<p> +“What is it, then, Penellan?” +</p> + +<p> +“Our lamp is going out, for want of oil, and we are fast exhausting our +provisions.—At last, thank God!” +</p> + +<p> +Penellan went to replace André Vasling, who was vigorously working for the +common deliverance. +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur Vasling,” said he, “I am going to take your place; +but look out well, I beg of you, for every tendency of the house to fall, so +that we may have time to prevent it.” +</p> + +<p> +The time for rest had come, and when Penellan had added one more foot to the +opening, he lay down beside his comrades. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="winter_11"></a>CHAPTER XI.<br/> +A CLOUD OF SMOKE.</h2> + +<p> +The next day, when the sailors awoke, they were surrounded by complete +darkness. The lamp had gone out. Jean Cornbutte roused Penellan to ask him for +the tinder-box, which was passed to him. Penellan rose to light the fire, but +in getting up, his head struck against the ice ceiling. He was horrified, for +on the evening before he could still stand upright. The chafing-dish being +lighted up by the dim rays of the spirit, he perceived that the ceiling was a +foot lower than before. +</p> + +<p> +Penellan resumed work with desperation. +</p> + +<p> +At this moment the young girl observed, by the light which the chafing-dish +cast upon Penellan’s face, that despair and determination were struggling +in his rough features for the mastery. She went to him, took his hands, and +tenderly pressed them. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<a name="image41"></a> +<img src="images/image41.jpg" width="413" height="600" alt="[Illustration: ]" /> +<p class="caption">despair and determination were struggling in his rough +features for the mastery. +</p> +</div> + +<p> +“She cannot, must not die thus!” he cried. +</p> + +<p> +He took his chafing-dish, and once more attacked the narrow opening. He plunged +in his staff, and felt no resistance. Had he reached the soft layers of the +snow? He drew out his staff, and a bright ray penetrated to the house of ice! +</p> + +<p> +“Here, my friends!” he shouted. +</p> + +<p> +He pushed back the snow with his hands and feet, but the exterior surface was +not thawed, as he had thought. With the ray of light, a violent cold entered +the cabin and seized upon everything moist, to freeze it in an instant. +Penellan enlarged the opening with 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 Marie +and his comrades. +</p> + +<p> +A magnificent moon lit up the sky, but the cold was so extreme that they could +not bear it. They re-entered their retreat; but Penellan first looked about +him. The promontory was no longer there, and the hut was now in the midst of a +vast plain of ice. Penellan thought he would go to the sledge, where the +provisions were. The sledge had disappeared! +</p> + +<p> +The cold forced him to return. He said nothing to his companions. It was +necessary, before all, to dry their clothing, which was done with the +chafing-dish. The thermometer, held for an instant in the air, descended to +thirty degrees below zero. +</p> + +<p> +An hour after, Vasling and Penellan resolved to venture outside. They wrapped +themselves up in their still wet garments, and went out by the opening, the +sides of which had become as hard as a rock. +</p> + +<p> +“We have been driven towards the north-east,” said Vasling, +reckoning by the stars, which shone with wonderful brilliancy. +</p> + +<p> +“That would not be bad,” said Penellan, “if our sledge had +come with us.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is not the sledge there?” cried Vasling. “Then we are +lost!” +</p> + +<p> +“Let us look for it,” replied Penellan. +</p> + +<p> +They went around the hut, which formed a block more than fifteen feet high. An +immense quantity of snow had fallen during the whole of the storm, and the wind +had massed it against the only elevation which the plain presented. The entire +block had been driven by the wind, in the midst of the broken icebergs, more +than twenty-five miles to the north-east, and the prisoners had suffered the +same fate as their floating prison. The sledge, supported by another iceberg, +had been turned another way, for no trace of it was to be seen, and the dogs +must have perished amid the frightful tempest. +</p> + +<p> +André Vasling and Penellan felt despair taking possession of them. They did not +dare to return to their companions. They did not dare to announce this fatal +news to their comrades in misfortune. They climbed upon the block of ice in +which the hut was hollowed, and could perceive nothing but the white immensity +which encompassed them on all sides. Already the cold was beginning to stiffen +their limbs, and the damp of their garments was being transformed into icicles +which hung about them. +</p> + +<p> +Just as Penellan was about to descend, he looked towards André. He saw him +suddenly gaze in one direction, then shudder and turn pale. +</p> + +<p> +“What is the matter, Vasling?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing,” replied the other. “Let us go down and urge the +captain to leave these parts, where we ought never to have come, at +once!” +</p> + +<p> +Instead of obeying, Penellan ascended again, and looked in the direction which +had drawn the mate’s attention. A very different effect was produced on +him, for he uttered a shout of joy, and cried,— +</p> + +<p> +“Blessed be God!” +</p> + +<p> +A light smoke was rising in the north-east. There was no possibility of +deception. It indicated the presence of human beings. Penellan’s cries of +joy reached the rest below, and all were able to convince themselves with their +eyes that he was not mistaken. +</p> + +<p> +Without thinking of their want of provisions or the severity of the +temperature, wrapped in their hoods, they were all soon advancing towards the +spot whence the smoke arose in the north-east. This was evidently five or six +miles off, and it was very difficult to take exactly the right direction. The +smoke now disappeared, and no elevation served as a guiding mark, for the +ice-plain was one united level. It was important, nevertheless, not to diverge +from a straight line. +</p> + +<p> +“Since we cannot guide ourselves by distant objects,” said Jean +Cornbutte, “we must use this method. Penellan will go ahead, Vasling +twenty steps behind him, and I twenty steps behind Vasling. I can then judge +whether or not Penellan diverges from the straight line.” +</p> + +<p> +They had gone on thus for half an hour, when Penellan suddenly stopped and +listened. The party hurried up to him. +</p> + +<p> +“Did you hear nothing?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing!” replied Misonne. +</p> + +<p> +“It is strange,” said Penellan. “It seemed to me I heard +cries from this direction.” +</p> + +<p> +“Cries?” replied Marie. “Perhaps we are near our destination, +then.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is no reason,” said André Vasling. “In these high +latitudes and cold regions sounds may be heard to a great distance.” +</p> + +<p> +“However that may be,” replied Jean Cornbutte, “let us go +forward, or we shall be frozen.” +</p> + +<p> +“No!” cried Penellan. “Listen!” +</p> + +<p> +Some feeble sounds—quite perceptible, however—were heard. They +seemed to be cries of distress. They were twice repeated. They seemed like +cries for help. Then all became silent again. +</p> + +<p> +“I was not mistaken,” said Penellan. “Forward!” +</p> + +<p> +He began to run in the direction whence the cries had proceeded. He went thus +two miles, when, to his utter stupefaction, he saw a man lying on the ice. He +went up to him, raised him, and lifted his arms to heaven in despair. +</p> + +<p> +André Vasling, who was following close behind with the rest of the sailors, ran +up and cried,— +</p> + +<p> +“It is one of the castaways! It is our sailor Courtois!” +</p> + +<p> +“He is dead!” replied Penellan. “Frozen to death!” +</p> + +<p> +Jean Cornbutte and Marie came up beside the corpse, which was already stiffened +by the ice. Despair was written on every face. The dead man was one of the +comrades of Louis Cornbutte! +</p> + +<p> +“Forward!” cried Penellan. +</p> + +<p> +They went on for half an hour in perfect silence, and perceived an elevation +which seemed without doubt to be land. +</p> + +<p> +“It is Shannon Island,” said Jean Cornbutte. +</p> + +<p> +A mile farther on they distinctly perceived smoke escaping from a snow-hut, +closed by a wooden door. They shouted. Two men rushed out of the hut, and +Penellan recognized one of them as Pierre Nouquet. +</p> + +<p> +“Pierre!” he cried. +</p> + +<p> +Pierre stood still as if stunned, and unconscious of what was going on around +him. André Vasling looked at Pierre Nouquet’s companion with anxiety +mingled with a cruel joy, for he did not recognize Louis Cornbutte in him. +</p> + +<p> +“Pierre! it is I!” cried Penellan. “These are all your +friends!” +</p> + +<p> +Pierre Nouquet recovered his senses, and fell into his old comrade’s +arms. +</p> + +<p> +“And my son—and Louis!” cried Jean Cornbutte, in an accent of +the most profound despair. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="winter_12"></a>CHAPTER XII.<br/> +THE RETURN TO THE SHIP.</h2> + +<p> +At this moment a man, almost dead, dragged himself out of the hut and along the +ice. +</p> + +<p> +It was Louis Cornbutte. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<a name="image42"></a> +<img src="images/image42.jpg" width="417" height="600" alt="[Illustration: ]" /> +<p class="caption">It was Louis Cornbutte. +</p> +</div> + +<p> +“My son!” +</p> + +<p> +“My beloved!” +</p> + +<p> +These two cries were uttered at the same time, and Louis Cornbutte fell +fainting into the arms of his father and Marie, who drew him towards the hut, +where their tender care soon revived him. +</p> + +<p> +“My father! Marie!” cried Louis; “I shall not die without +having seen you!” +</p> + +<p> +“You will not die!” replied Penellan, “for all your friends +are near you.” +</p> + +<p> +André Vasling must have hated Louis Cornbutte bitterly not to extend his hand +to him, but he did not. +</p> + +<p> +Pierre Nouquet was wild with joy. He embraced every body; then he threw some +wood into the stove, and soon a comfortable temperature was felt in the cabin. +</p> + +<p> +There were two men there whom neither Jean Cornbutte nor Penellan recognized. +</p> + +<p> +They were Jocki and Herming, the only two sailors of the crew of the Norwegian +schooner who were left. +</p> + +<p> +“My friends, we are saved!” said Louis. “My father! Marie! +You have exposed yourselves to so many perils!” +</p> + +<p> +“We do not regret it, my Louis,” replied the father. “Your +brig, the ‘Jeune-Hardie,’ is securely anchored in the ice sixty +leagues from here. We will rejoin her all together.” +</p> + +<p> +“When Courtois comes back he’ll be mightily pleased,” said +Pierre Nouquet. +</p> + +<p> +A mournful silence followed this, and Penellan apprised Pierre and Louis of +their comrade’s death by cold. +</p> + +<p> +“My friends,” said Penellan, “we will wait here until the +cold decreases. Have you provisions and wood?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes; and we will burn what is left of the ‘Froöern.’” +</p> + +<p> +The “Froöern” had indeed been driven to a place forty miles from +where Louis Cornbutte had taken up his winter quarters. There she was broken up +by the icebergs floated by the thaw, and the castaways were carried, with a +part of the <i>débris</i> of their cabin, on the southern shores of Shannon +Island. +</p> + +<p> +They were then five in number—Louis Cornbutte, Courtois, Pierre Nouquet, +Jocki, and Herming. As for the rest of the Norwegian crew, they had been +submerged with the long-boat at the moment of the wreck. +</p> + +<p> +When Louis Cornbutte, shut in among the ice, realized what must happen, he took +every precaution for passing the winter. He was an energetic man, very active +and courageous; but, despite his firmness, he had been subdued by this horrible +climate, and when his father found him he had given up all hope of life. He had +not only had to contend with the elements, but with the ugly temper of the two +Norwegian sailors, who owed him their existence. They were like savages, almost +inaccessible to the most natural emotions. When Louis had the opportunity to +talk to Penellan, he advised him to watch them carefully. In return, Penellan +told him of André Vasling’s conduct. Louis could not believe it, but +Penellan convinced him that after his disappearance Vasling had always acted so +as to secure Marie’s hand. +</p> + +<p> +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 provisions and the replenished fire raised the spirits +of the weakest. Louis Cornbutte got visibly better. It was the first moment of +happiness these brave people had experienced. They celebrated it with +enthusiasm in this wretched hut, six hundred leagues from the North Sea, in a +temperature of thirty degrees below zero! +</p> + +<p> +This temperature lasted till the end of the moon, and it was not until 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 cold was less extreme, and even some snow fell. +</p> + +<p> +Before quitting this place a grave was dug for poor Courtois. It was a sad +ceremony, which deeply affected his comrades. He was the first of them who +would not again see his native land. +</p> + +<p> +Misonne had constructed, with the planks of the cabin, a sort of sledge for +carrying the provisions, and the sailors drew it by turns. Jean Cornbutte led +the expedition by the ways already traversed. Camps were established with great +promptness when the times for repose came. Jean Cornbutte hoped to find his +deposits of provisions again, as they had become well-nigh indispensable by the +addition of four persons to the party. He was therefore very careful not to +diverge from the route by which he had come. +</p> + +<p> +By good fortune he recovered his sledge, which had stranded near the promontory +where they had all run so many dangers. The dogs, after eating their straps to +satisfy their hunger, had attacked the provisions in the sledge. These had +sustained them, and they served to guide the party to the sledge, where there +was a considerable quantity of provisions left. The little band resumed its +march towards the bay. The dogs were harnessed to the sleigh, and no event of +interest attended the return. +</p> + +<p> +It was observed that Aupic, André Vasling, and the Norwegians kept aloof, and +did not mingle with the others; but, unbeknown to themselves, they were +narrowly watched. This germ of dissension more than once aroused the fears of +Louis Cornbutte and Penellan. +</p> + +<p> +About the 7th of December, twenty days after the discovery of the castaways, +they perceived the bay where the “Jeune-Hardie” was lying. What was +their astonishment to see the brig perched four yards in the air on blocks of +ice! They hurried forward, much alarmed for their companions, and were received +with joyous cries by Gervique, Turquiette, and Gradlin. All of them were in +good health, though they too had been subjected to formidable dangers. +</p> + +<p> +The tempest had made itself felt throughout the polar sea. The ice had been +broken and displaced, crushed one piece against another, and had seized the bed +on which the ship rested. Though its specific weight tended to carry it under +water, the ice had acquired an incalculable force, and the brig had been +suddenly raised up out of the sea. +</p> + +<p> +The first moments were given up to the happiness inspired by the safe return. +The exploring party were rejoiced to find everything in good condition, which +assured them a supportable though it might be a rough winter. The ship had not +been shaken by her sudden elevation, and was perfectly tight. When the season +of thawing came, they would only have to slide her down an inclined plane, to +launch her, in a word, in the once more open sea. +</p> + +<p> +But a bad piece of news spread gloom on the faces of Jean Cornbutte and his +comrades. During the terrible gale the snow storehouse on the coast had been +quite demolished; the provisions which it contained were scattered, and it had +not been possible to save a morsel of them. When Jean and Louis Cornbutte +learnt this, they visited the hold and steward’s room, to ascertain the +quantity of provisions which still remained. +</p> + +<p> +The thaw would not come until May, and the brig could not leave the bay before +that period. They had therefore five winter months before them to pass amid the +ice, during which fourteen persons were to be fed. Having made his +calculations, Jean Cornbutte found that he would at most be able to keep them +alive till the time for departure, by putting each and all on half rations. +Hunting for game became compulsory to procure food in larger quantity. +</p> + +<p> +For fear that they might again run short of provisions, it was decided to +deposit them no longer in the ground. All of them were kept on board, and beds +were disposed for the new comers in the common lodging. Turquiette, Gervique, +and Gradlin, during the absence of the others, had hollowed out a flight of +steps in the ice, which enabled them easily to reach the ship’s deck. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="winter_13"></a>CHAPTER XIII.<br/> +THE TWO RIVALS.</h2> + +<p> +André Vasling had been cultivating the good-will of the two Norwegian sailors. +Aupic also made one of their band, and held himself apart, with loud +disapproval of all the new measures taken; but Louis Cornbutte, to whom his +father had transferred the command of the ship, and who had become once more +master on board, would listen to no objections from that quarter, and in spite +of Marie’s advice to act gently, made it known that he intended to be +obeyed on all points. +</p> + +<p> +Nevertheless, the two Norwegians succeeded, two days after, in getting +possession of a box of salt meat. Louis ordered them to return it to him on the +spot, but Aupic took their part, and André Vasling declared that the +precautions about the food could not be any longer enforced. +</p> + +<p> +It was useless to attempt to show these men that these measures were for the +common interest, for they knew it well, and only sought a pretext to revolt. +</p> + +<p> +Penellan advanced towards the Norwegians, who drew their cutlasses; but, aided +by Misonne and Turquiette, he succeeded in snatching the weapons from their +hands, and gained possession of the salt meat. André Vasling and Aupic, seeing +that matters were going against them, did not interfere. Louis Cornbutte, +however, took the mate aside, and said to him,— +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<a name="image43"></a> +<img src="images/image43.jpg" width="417" height="600" alt="[Illustration: ]" /> +<p class="caption">Penellan advanced towards the Norwegians. +</p> +</div> + +<p> +“André Vasling, you are a wretch! I know your whole conduct, and I know +what you are aiming at, but as the safety of the whole crew is confided to me, +if any man of you thinks of conspiring to destroy them, I will stab him with my +own hand!” +</p> + +<p> +“Louis Cornbutte,” replied the mate, “it is allowable for you +to act the master; but remember that absolute obedience does not exist here, +and that here the strongest alone makes the law.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +Despite this declaration of war, the meals were partaken of in common and at +the same hours. Hunting furnished some ptarmigans and white hares; but this +resource would soon fail them, with the approach of the terrible cold weather. +This began at the solstice, on the 22nd of December, on which day the +thermometer fell to thirty-five degrees below zero. The men experienced pain in +their ears, noses, and the extremities of their bodies. They were seized with a +mortal torpor combined with headache, and their breathing became more and more +difficult. +</p> + +<p> +In this state they had no longer any courage to go hunting or to take any +exercise. They remained crouched around the stove, which gave them but a meagre +heat; and when they went away from it, they perceived that their blood suddenly +cooled. +</p> + +<p> +Jean Cornbutte’s health was seriously impaired, and he could no longer +quit his lodging. Symptoms of scurvy manifested themselves in him, and his legs +were soon covered with white spots. Marie was well, however, and occupied +herself tending the sick ones with the zeal of a sister of charity. The honest +fellows blessed her from the bottom of their hearts. +</p> + +<p> +The 1st of January was one of the gloomiest of these winter days. The wind was +violent, and the cold insupportable. They could not go out, except at the risk +of being frozen. The most courageous were fain to limit themselves to walking +on deck, sheltered by the tent. Jean Cornbutte, Gervique, and Gradlin did not +leave their beds. The two Norwegians, Aupic, and André Vasling, whose health +was good, cast ferocious looks at their companions, whom they saw wasting away. +</p> + +<p> +Louis Cornbutte led Penellan on deck, and asked him how much firing was left. +</p> + +<p> +“The coal was exhausted long ago,” replied Penellan, “and we +are about to burn our last pieces of wood.” +</p> + +<p> +“If we are not able to keep off this cold, we are lost,” said +Louis. +</p> + +<p> +“There still remains a way—” said Penellan, “to burn +what we can of the brig, from the barricading to the water-line; and we can +even, if need be, demolish her entirely, and rebuild a smaller craft.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is an extreme means,” replied Louis, “which it will be +full time to employ when our men are well. For,” he added in a low voice, +“our force is diminishing, and that of our enemies seems to be +increasing. That is extraordinary.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is true,” said Penellan; “and unless we took the +precaution to watch night and day, I know not what would happen to us.” +</p> + +<p> +“Let us take our hatchets,” returned Louis, “and make our +harvest of wood.” +</p> + +<p> +Despite the cold, they mounted on the forward barricading, and cut off all the +wood which was not indispensably necessary to the ship; then they returned with +this new provision. The fire was started afresh, and a man remained on guard to +prevent it from going out. +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile Louis Cornbutte and his friends were soon tired out. They could not +confide any detail of the life in common to their enemies. Charged with all the +domestic cares, their powers were soon exhausted. The scurvy betrayed itself in +Jean Cornbutte, who suffered intolerable pain. Gervique and Gradlin showed +symptoms of the same disease. Had it not been for the lemon-juice with which +they were abundantly furnished, they would have speedily succumbed to their +sufferings. This remedy was not spared in relieving them. +</p> + +<p> +But one day, the 15th of January, when Louis Cornbutte was going down into the +steward’s room to get some lemons, he was stupefied to find that the +barrels in which they were kept had disappeared. He hurried up and told +Penellan of this misfortune. A theft had been committed, and it was easy to +recognize its authors. Louis Cornbutte then understood why the health of his +enemies continued so good! His friends were no longer strong enough to take the +lemons away from them, though his life and that of his comrades depended on the +fruit; and he now sank, for the first time, into a gloomy state of despair. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="winter_14"></a>CHAPTER XIV.<br/> +DISTRESS.</h2> + +<p> +On the 20th of January most of the crew had not the strength to leave their +beds. Each, independently of his woollen coverings, had a buffalo-skin to +protect him against the cold; but as soon as he put his arms outside the +clothes, he felt a pain which obliged him quickly to cover them again. +</p> + +<p> +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 some strength, as well as Marie, who joined them in +partaking of it. +</p> + +<p> +Louis Cornbutte approached his father’s bedside; the old man was almost +motionless, and his limbs were helpless from disease. He muttered some +disconnected words, which carried grief to his son’s heart. +</p> + +<p> +“Louis,” said he, “I am dying. O, how I suffer! Save +me!” +</p> + +<p> +Louis took a decisive resolution. He went up to the mate, and, controlling +himself with difficulty, said,— +</p> + +<p> +“Do you know where the lemons are, Vasling?” +</p> + +<p> +“In the steward’s room, I suppose,” returned the mate, +without stirring. +</p> + +<p> +“You know they are not there, as you have stolen them!” +</p> + +<p> +“You are master, Louis Cornbutte, and may say and do anything.” +</p> + +<p> +“For pity’s sake, André Vasling, my father is dying! You can save +him,—answer!” +</p> + +<p> +“I have nothing to answer,” replied André Vasling. +</p> + +<p> +“Wretch!” cried Penellan, throwing himself, cutlass in hand, on the +mate. +</p> + +<p> +“Help, friends!” shouted Vasling, retreating. +</p> + +<p> +Aupic and the two Norwegian sailors jumped from their beds and placed +themselves behind him. Turquiette, Penellan, and Louis prepared to defend +themselves. Pierre Nouquet and Gradlin, though suffering much, rose to second +them. +</p> + +<p> +“You are still too strong for us,” said Vasling. “We do not +wish to fight on an uncertainty.” +</p> + +<p> +The sailors were so weak that they dared not attack the four rebels, for, had +they failed, they would have been lost. +</p> + +<p> +“André Vasling!” said Louis Cornbutte, in a gloomy tone, “if +my father dies, you will have murdered him; and I will kill you like a +dog!” +</p> + +<p> +Vasling and his confederates retired to the other end of the cabin, and did not +reply. +</p> + +<p> +It was then necessary to renew the supply of wood, and, in spite of the cold, +Louis went on deck and began to cut away a part of the barricading, but was +obliged to retreat in a quarter of an hour, for he was in danger of falling, +overcome by the freezing air. As he passed, he cast a glance at the thermometer +left outside, and saw that the mercury was frozen. The cold, then, exceeded +forty-two degrees below zero. The weather was dry, and the wind blew from the +north. +</p> + +<p> +On the 26th the wind changed to the north-east, and the thermometer outside +stood at thirty-five degrees. Jean Cornbutte was in agony, and his son had +searched in vain for some remedy with which to relieve his pain. On this day, +however, throwing himself suddenly on Vasling, he managed to snatch a lemon +from him which he was about to suck. +</p> + +<p> +Vasling made no attempt to recover it. He seemed to be awaiting an opportunity +to accomplish his wicked designs. +</p> + +<p> +The lemon-juice somewhat relieved old Cornbutte, but it was necessary to +continue the remedy. Marie begged Vasling on her knees to produce the lemons, +but he did not reply, and soon Penellan heard the wretch say to his +accomplices,— +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<a name="image44"></a> +<img src="images/image44.jpg" width="418" height="600" alt="[Illustration: ]" /> +<p class="caption">Marie begged Vasling on her knees to produce the lemons, but +he did not reply. +</p> +</div> + +<p> +“The old fellow is dying. Gervique, Gradlin, and Nouquet are not much +better. The others are daily losing their strength. The time is near when their +lives will belong to us!” +</p> + +<p> +It was then resolved by Louis Cornbutte and his adherents not to wait, and to +profit by the little strength which still remained to them. They determined to +act the next night, and to kill these wretches, so as not to be killed by them. +</p> + +<p> +The temperature rose a little. Louis Cornbutte ventured to go out with his gun +in search of some game. +</p> + +<p> +He proceeded some three miles from the ship, and often, deceived by the effects +of the mirage and refraction, he went farther away than he intended. It was +imprudent, for recent tracts of ferocious animals were to be seen. He did not +wish, however, to return without some fresh meat, and continued on his route; +but he then experienced a strange feeling, which turned his head. It was what +is called “white vertigo.” +</p> + +<p> +The reflection of the ice hillocks and fields affected him from head to foot, +and it seemed to him that the dazzling colour penetrated him and caused an +irresistible nausea. His eye was attacked. His sight became uncertain. He +thought he should go mad with the glare. Without fully understanding this +terrible effect, he advanced on his way, and soon put up a ptarmigan, which he +eagerly pursued. The bird soon fell, and in order to reach it Louis leaped from +an ice-block and fell heavily; for the leap was at least ten feet, and the +refraction made him think it was only two. The vertigo then seized him, and, +without knowing why, he began to call for help, though he had not been injured +by the fall. The cold began to take him, and he rose with pain, urged by the +sense of self-preservation. +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly, without being able to account for it, he smelt an odour of boiling +fat. As the ship was between him and the wind, he supposed that this odour +proceeded from her, and could not imagine why they should be cooking fat, this +being a dangerous thing to do, as it was likely to attract the white bears. +</p> + +<p> +Louis returned towards the ship, absorbed in reflections which soon inspired +his excited mind with terror. It seemed to him as if colossal masses were +moving on the horizon, and he asked himself if there was not another ice-quake. +Several of these masses interposed themselves between him and the ship, and +appeared to rise about its sides. He stopped to gaze at them more attentively, +when to his horror he recognized a herd of gigantic bears. +</p> + +<p> +These animals had been attracted by the odour of grease which had surprised +Lonis. He sheltered himself behind a hillock, and counted three, which were +scaling the blocks on which the “Jeune-Hardie” was resting. +</p> + +<p> +Nothing led him to suppose that this danger was known in the interior of the +ship, and a terrible anguish oppressed his heart. How resist these redoubtable +enemies? Would André Vasling and his confederates 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? +</p> + +<p> +Louis made these reflections rapidly. The bears had crossed the blocks, and +were mounting to the assault of the ship. He might then quit the block which +protected him; he went nearer, clinging to the ice, and could soon see the +enormous animals tearing the tent with their paws, and leaping on the deck. He +thought of firing his gun to give his comrades notice; but if these came up +without arms, they would inevitably be torn in pieces, and nothing showed as +yet that they were even aware of their new danger. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="winter_15"></a>CHAPTER XV.<br/> +THE WHITE BEARS.</h2> + +<p> +After Louis Cornbutte’s departure, Penellan had carefully shut the cabin +door, which opened at the foot of the deck steps. He returned to the stove, +which he took it upon himself to watch, whilst his companions regained their +berths in search of a little warmth. +</p> + +<p> +It was then six in the evening, and Penellan set about preparing supper. 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 of grease in a basin. +</p> + +<p> +“I was there before you,” said Penellan roughly; “why have +you taken my place?” +</p> + +<p> +“For the same reason that you claim it,” returned Vasling: +“because I want to cook my supper.” +</p> + +<p> +“You will take that off at once, or we shall see!” +</p> + +<p> +“We shall see nothing,” said Vasling; “my supper shall be +cooked in spite of you.” +</p> + +<p> +“You shall not eat it, then,” cried Penellan, rushing upon Vasling, +who seized his cutlass, crying,— +</p> + +<p> +“Help, Norwegians! Help, Aupic!” +</p> + +<p> +These, in the twinkling of an eye, sprang to their feet, armed with pistols and +daggers. The crisis had come. +</p> + +<p> +Penellan precipitated himself upon Vasling, to whom, no doubt, was confided the +task to fight him alone; for his accomplices rushed to the beds where lay +Misonne, Turquiette, and Nouquet. The latter, ill and defenceless, was +delivered over to Herming’s ferocity. The carpenter seized a hatchet, +and, leaving his berth, hurried up to encounter Aupic. Turquiette and Jocki, +the Norwegian, struggled fiercely. Gervique and Gradlin, suffering horribly, +were not even conscious of what was passing around them. +</p> + +<p> +Nouquet soon received a stab in the side, and Herming turned to Penellan, who +was fighting desperately. André Vasling had seized him round the body. +</p> + +<p> +At the beginning of the affray the basin had been upset on the stove, and the +grease running over the burning coals, impregnated the atmosphere with its +odour. Marie rose with cries of despair, and hurried to the bed of old Jean +Cornbutte. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<a name="image45"></a> +<img src="images/image45.jpg" width="420" height="600" alt="[Illustration: ]" /> +<p class="caption">Marie rose with cries of despair, and hurried to the bed of +old Jean Cornbutte. +</p> +</div> + +<p> +Vasling, less strong than Penellan, soon perceived that the latter was getting +the better of him. They were too close together to make use of their weapons. +The mate, seeing Herming, cried out,— +</p> + +<p> +“Help, Herming!” +</p> + +<p> +“Help, Misonne!” shouted Penellan, in his turn. +</p> + +<p> +But Misonne was rolling on the ground with Aupic, who was trying to stab him +with his cutlass. The carpenter’s hatchet was of little use to him, for +he could not wield it, and it was with the greatest difficulty that he parried +the lunges which Aupic made with his knife. +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile blood flowed amid the groans and cries. Turquiette, thrown down by +Jocki, a man of immense strength, had received a wound in the shoulder, and he +tried in vain to clutch a pistol which hung in the Norwegian’s belt. The +latter held him as in a vice, and it was impossible for him to move. +</p> + +<p> +At Vasling’s cry for help, who was being held by Penellan close against +the door, Herming rushed up. As he was about to stab the Breton’s back +with his cutlass, the latter felled him to the earth with a vigorous kick. His +effort to do this enabled Vasling to disengage his right arm; but the door, +against which they pressed with all their weight, suddenly yielded, and Vasling +fell over. +</p> + +<p> +Of a sudden a terrible growl was heard, and a gigantic bear appeared on the +steps. Vasling saw him first. He was not four feet away from him. At the same +moment a shot was heard, and the bear, wounded or frightened, retreated. +Vasling, who had succeeded in regaining his feet, set-out in pursuit of him, +abandoning Penellan. +</p> + +<p> +Penellan then replaced the door, and looked around him. Misonne and Turquiette, +tightly garrotted by their antagonists, had been thrown into a corner, and made +vain efforts to break loose. Penellan rushed to their assistance, but was +overturned by the two Norwegians and Aupic. His exhausted strength did not +permit him to resist these three men, who so clung to him as to hold him +motionless Then, at the cries of the mate, they hurried on deck, thinking that +Louis Cornbutte was to be encountered. +</p> + +<p> +André Vasling was struggling with a bear, which he had already twice stabbed +with his knife. The animal, beating the air with his heavy paws, was trying to +clutch Vasling; he retiring little by little on the barricading, was apparently +doomed, when a second shot was heard. The bear fell. André Vasling raised his +head 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 he was dead. +</p> + +<p> +Hate overcame gratitude in Vasling’s breast; but before satisfying it, he +looked around him. Aupic’s head was broken by a paw-stroke, and he lay +lifeless on deck. Jocki, hatchet in hand, was with difficulty parrying the +blows of the second bear which had just killed Aupic. The animal had received +two wounds, and still struggled desperately. A third bear was directing his way +towards the ship’s prow. Vasling paid no attention to him, but, followed +by Herming, went to the aid of Jocki; but Jocki, seized by the beast’s +paws, was crushed, and when the bear fell under the shots of the other two men, +he held only a corpse in his shaggy arms. +</p> + +<p> +“We are only two, now” said Vasling, with gloomy ferocity, +“but if we yield, it will not be without vengeance!” +</p> + +<p> +Herming reloaded his pistol without replying. Before all, the third bear must +be got rid of. Vasling looked forward, but did not see him. On raising his +eyes, he perceived him erect on the barricading, clinging to the ratlines and +trying to reach Louis. Vasling let his gun fall, which he had aimed at the +animal, while a fierce joy glittered in his eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah,” he cried, “you owe me that vengeance!” +</p> + +<p> +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 gun and pointed it at the +animal’s heart. +</p> + +<p> +Vasling raised his weapon to shoot Louis if the bear fell. +</p> + +<p> +Louis fired, but the bear did not appear to be hit, for he leaped with a bound +towards the top. The whole mast shook. +</p> + +<p> +Vasling uttered a shout of exultation. +</p> + +<p> +“Herming,” he cried, “go and find Marie! Go and find my +betrothed!” +</p> + +<p> +Herming descended the cabin stairs. +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile the furious beast had thrown himself upon Louis, who was trying to +shelter himself on the other side of the mast; but at the moment that his +enormous paw was raised to break his head, Louis, seizing one of the backstays, +let himself slip down to the deck, not without danger, for a ball hissed by his +ear when he was half-way down. Vasling had shot at him, and missed him. The two +adversaries now confronted each other, cutlass in hand. +</p> + +<p> +The combat was about to become decisive. To entirely glut his vengeance, and to +have the young girl witness her lover’s death, Vasling had deprived +himself of Herming’s aid. He could now reckon only on himself. +</p> + +<p> +Louis and Vasling seized each other by the collar, and held each other with +iron grip. One of them must fall. They struck each other violently. The blows +were only half parried, for blood soon flowed from both. Vasling tried to clasp +his adversary about the neck with his arm, to bring him to the ground. Louis, +knowing that he who fell was lost, prevented him, and succeeded in grasping his +two arms; but in doing this he let fall his cutlass. +</p> + +<p> +Piteous cries now assailed his ears; it was Marie’s voice. Herming was +trying to drag her up. Louis was seized with a desperate rage. He stiffened +himself to bend Vasling’s loins; but at this moment the combatants felt +themselves seized in a powerful embrace. The bear, having descended from the +mast, had fallen upon the two men. Vasling was pressed against the +animal’s body. Louis felt his claws entering his flesh. The bear, was +strangling both of them. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<a name="image46"></a> +<img src="images/image46.jpg" width="417" height="600" alt="[Illustration: ]" /> +<p class="caption">The bear, having descended from the mast, had fallen upon +the two men. +</p> +</div> + +<p> +“Help! help! Herming!” cried the mate. +</p> + +<p> +“Help! Penellan!” cried Louis. +</p> + +<p> +Steps were heard on the stairs. Penellan appeared, loaded his pistol, and +discharged it in the bear’s ear; he roared; the pain made him relax his +paws for a moment, and Louis, exhausted, fell motionless on the deck; but the +bear, closing his paws tightly in a supreme agony, fell, dragging down the +wretched Vasling, whose body was crushed under him. +</p> + +<p> +Penellan hurried to Louis Cornbutte’s assistance. No serious wound +endangered his life: he had only lost his breath for a moment. +</p> + +<p> +“Marie!” he said, opening his eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“Saved!” replied Perfellan. “Herming is lying there with a +knife-wound in his stomach.” +</p> + +<p> +“And the bears—” +</p> + +<p> +“Dead, Louis; dead, like our enemies! But for those beasts we should have +been lost. Truly, they came to our succour. Let us thank Heaven!” +</p> + +<p> +Louis and Penellan descended to the cabin, and Marie fell into their arms. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="winter_16"></a>CHAPTER XVI.<br/> +CONCLUSION.</h2> + +<p> +Herming, mortally wounded, had been carried to a berth by Misonne and +Turquiette, who had succeeded in getting free. He was already at the last gasp +of death; and the two sailors occupied themselves with Nouquet, whose wound was +not, happily, a serious one. +</p> + +<p> +But a greater misfortune had overtaken Louis Cornbutte. His father no longer +gave any signs of life. Had he died of anxiety for his son, delivered over to +his enemies? Had he succumbed in presence of these terrible events? They could +not tell. But the poor old sailor, broken by disease, had ceased to live! +</p> + +<p> +At this unexpected blow, Louis and Marie fell into a sad despair; then they +knelt at the bedside and wept, as they prayed for Jean Cornbutte’s soul, +Penellan, Misonne, and Turquiette left them alone in the cabin, and went on +deck. The bodies of the three bears were carried forward. Penellan decided to +keep their skins, which would be of no little use; but he did not think for a +moment of eating their flesh. Besides, the number of men to feed was now much +decreased. The bodies of Vasling, Aupic, and Jocki, thrown into a hole dug on +the coast, were soon rejoined by that of Herming. The Norwegian died during the +night, without repentance or remorse, foaming at the mouth with rage. +</p> + +<p> +The three sailors repaired the tent, which, torn in several places, permitted +the snow to fall on the deck. The temperature was exceedingly cold, and kept so +till the return of the sun, which did not reappear above the horizon till the +8th of January. +</p> + +<p> +Jean Cornbutte was buried on the coast. He had left his native land to find his +son, and had died in these terrible regions! His grave was dug on an eminence, +and the sailors placed over it a simple wooden cross. +</p> + +<p> +From that day, Louis Cornbutte and his comrades passed through many other +trials; but the lemons, which they found, restored them to health. +</p> + +<p> +Gervique, Gradlin, and Nouquet were able to rise from their berths a fortnight +after these terrible events, and to take a little exercise. +</p> + +<p> +Soon hunting for game became more easy and its results more abundant. The +water-birds returned in large numbers. They often brought down a kind of wild +duck which made excellent food. The hunters had no other deprivation to deplore +than that of two dogs, which they lost in an expedition to reconnoitre the +state of the icefields, twenty-five miles to the southward. +</p> + +<p> +The month of February was signalized by violent tempests and abundant snows. +The mean temperature was still twenty-five degrees below zero, but they did not +suffer in comparison with past hardships. Besides, the sight of the sun, which +rose higher and higher above the horizon, rejoiced them, as it forecast the end +of their torments. Heaven had pity on them, for warmth came sooner than usual +that year. The ravens appeared in March, careering about the ship. Louis +Cornbutte captured some cranes which had wandered thus far northward. Flocks of +wild birds were also seen in the south. +</p> + +<p> +The return of the birds indicated a diminution of the cold; but it was not safe +to rely upon this, for with a change of wind, or in the new or full moons, the +temperature suddenly fell; and the sailors were forced to resort to their most +careful precautions to protect themselves against it. They had already burned +all the barricading, the bulkheads, and a large portion of the bridge. It was +time, then, that their wintering was over. Happily, the mean temperature of +March was not over sixteen degrees below zero. Marie occupied herself with +preparing new clothing for the advanced season of the year. +</p> + +<p> +After the equinox, the sun had remained constantly above the horizon. The eight +months of perpetual daylight had begun. This continual sunlight, with the +increasing though still quite feeble heat, soon began to act upon the ice. +</p> + +<p> +Great precautions were necessary in launching the ship from the lofty layer of +ice which surrounded her. She was therefore securely propped up, and it seemed +best to await the breaking up of the ice; but the lower mass, resting on a bed +of already warm water, detached itself little by little, and the ship gradually +descended with it. Early in April she had reached her natural level. +</p> + +<p> +Torrents of rain came with April, which, extending in waves over the ice-plain, +hastened still more its breaking up. The thermometer rose to ten degrees below +zero. Some of the men took off their seal-skin clothes, and it was no longer +necessary to keep a fire in the cabin stove day and night. The provision of +spirit, which was not exhausted, was used only for cooking the food. +</p> + +<p> +Soon the ice began to break up rapidly, and it became imprudent to venture upon +the plain without a staff to sound the passages; for fissures wound in spirals +here and there. Some of the sailors fell into the water, with no worse result, +however, than a pretty cold bath. +</p> + +<p> +The seals returned, and they were often hunted, and their grease utilized. +</p> + +<p> +The health of the crew was fully restored, and the time was employed in hunting +and preparations for departure. Louis Cornbutte often examined the channels, +and decided, in consequence of the shape of the southern coast, to attempt a +passage in that direction. The breaking up had already begun here and there, +and the floating ice began to pass off towards the high seas. On the 25th of +April the ship was put in readiness. The sails, taken from their sheaths, were +found to be perfectly preserved, and it was with real delight that the sailors +saw them once more swaying in the wind. The ship gave a lurch, for she had +found her floating line, and though she would not yet move forward, she lay +quietly and easily in her natural element. +</p> + +<p> +In May the thaw became very rapid. The snow which covered the coast melted on +every hand, and formed a thick mud, which made it well-nigh impossible to land. +Small heathers, rosy and white, peeped out timidly above the lingering snow, +and seemed to smile at the little heat they received. The thermometer at last +rose above zero. +</p> + +<p> +Twenty miles off, the ice masses, entirely separated, floated towards the +Atlantic Ocean. Though the sea was not quite free around the ship, channels +opened by which Louis Cornbutte wished to profit. +</p> + +<p> +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 honest sailors were filled at once +with joy and sadness, for one does not leave without regret a place where a +friend has died. The wind blew from the north, and favoured their departure. +The ship was often arrested by ice-banks, which were cut with the saws; +icebergs not seldom confronted her, and it was necessary to blow them up with +powder. For a month the way was full of perils, which sometimes brought the +ship to the verge of destruction; but the crew were sturdy, and used to these +dangerous exigencies. Penellan, Pierre Nouquet, Turquiette, Fidèle Misonne, did +the work of ten sailors, and Marie had smiles of gratitude for each. +</p> + +<p> +The “Jeune-Hardie” at last passed beyond the ice in the latitude of +Jean-Mayer Island. About the 25th of June she met ships going northward for +seals and whales. She had been nearly a month emerging from the Polar Sea. +</p> + +<p> +On the 16th of August she came in view of Dunkirk. She had been signalled by +the look-out, and the whole population flocked to the jetty. The sailors of the +ship were soon clasped in the arms of their friends. The old curé received +Louis Cornbutte and Marie with patriarchal arms, and of the two masses which he +said on the following day, the first was for the repose of Jean +Cornbutte’s soul, and the second to bless these two lovers, so long +united in misfortune. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<a name="image47"></a> +<img src="images/image47.jpg" width="416" height="600" alt="[Illustration: ]" /> +<p class="caption">The old curé received Louis Cornbutte and Marie. +</p> +</div> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="ascent"></a>THE FORTIETH FRENCH ASCENT OF MONT BLANC</h2> + +<h3>BY PAUL VERNE.</h3> + +<p> +I arrived at Chamonix on the 18th of August, 1871, fully decided to make the +ascent of Mont Blanc, cost what it might. My first attempt in August, 1869, was +not successful. Bad weather had prevented me from mounting beyond the +Grands-Mulets. This time circumstances 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 its neighbourhood, “put +on its cap and began to smoke its pipe,” which, to speak more plainly, +means that it is covered with clouds, and that the snow, driven upon it by a +south-west wind, formed a long crest on its summit in the direction of the +unfathomable precipices of the Brenva glaciers. This crest betrayed to +imprudent tourists the route they would have taken, had they had the temerity +to venture upon the mountain. +</p> + +<p> +The next night was very inclement. The rain and wind were violent, and the +barometer, below the “change,” remained stationary. +</p> + +<p> +Towards daybreak, however, several thunder-claps announced a change in the +state of the atmosphere. Soon the clouds broke. The chain of the Brevent and +the Aiguilles-Rouges betrayed itself. The wind, turning to the north-west, +brought into view above the Col de Balme, which shuts in the valley of Chamonix +on the north, some light, isolated, fleecy clouds, which I hailed as the +heralds of fine weather. +</p> + +<p> +Despite this happy augury and a slight rise in the barometer, M. Balmat, chief +guide of Chamonix, declared to me that I must not yet think of attempting the +ascent. +</p> + +<p> +“If the barometer continues to rise,” he added, “and the +weather holds good, I promise you guides for the day after to-morrow— +perhaps for to-morrow. Meanwhile, have patience and stretch your legs; I will +take you up the Brevent. The clouds are clearing away, and you will be able to +exactly distinguish the path you will have to go over to reach the summit of +Mont Blanc. If, in spite of this, you are determined to go, you may try +it!” +</p> + +<p> +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 very sedate and devoted fellow, who perfectly knew +his business. +</p> + +<p> +M. Donatien Levesque, an enthusiastic tourist and an intrepid pedestrian, who +had made early in the previous year an interesting and difficult trip in North +America, was with me. He had already visited the greater part of America, and +was about to descend the Mississippi to New Orleans, when the war cut short his +projects and recalled him to France. We had met at Aix-les-Bains, and we had +determined to make an excursion together in Savoy and Switzerland. +</p> + +<p> +Donatien Levesque knew my intentions, and, as he thought that his health would +not permit him to attempt so long a journey over the glaciers, it had been +agreed that he should await my return from Mont Blanc at Chamonix, and should +make the traditional visit to the Mer-de-Glace by the Montanvers during my +absence. +</p> + +<p> +On learning that I was going to ascend the Brevent, my friend did not hesitate +to accompany me thither. The ascent of the Brevent is one of the most +interesting trips that can be made from Chamonix. This mountain, about seven +thousand six hundred feet high, is only the prolongation of the chain for the +Aiguilles-Rouges, which runs from the south-west to the north-east, parallel +with that of Mont Blanc, and forms with it the narrow valley of Chamonix. The +Brevent, by its central position, exactly opposite the Bossons glacier, enables +one to watch the parties which undertake the ascent of the giant of the Alps +nearly throughout their journey. It is therefore much frequented. +</p> + +<p> +We started about seven o’clock in the morning. As we went along, I +thought of the mysterious words of the master-guide; they annoyed me a little. +Addressing Ravanel, I said,— +</p> + +<p> +“Have you made the ascent of Mont Blanc?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, monsieur,” he replied, “once; and that’s enough. +I am not anxious to do it again.” +</p> + +<p> +“The deuce!” said I. “I am going to try it.” +</p> + +<p> +“You are free, monsieur; but I shall not go with you. The mountain is not +good this year. Several attempts have already been made; two only have +succeeded. As for the second, the party tried the ascent twice. Besides, the +accident last year has rather cooled the amateurs.” +</p> + +<p> +“An accident! What accident?” +</p> + +<p> +“Did not monsieur hear of it? This is how it happened. A party, +consisting of ten guides and porters and two Englishmen, started about the +middle of September for Mont Blanc. They were seen to reach the summit; then, +some minutes after, they disappeared in a cloud. When the cloud passed over no +one was visible. The two travellers, with seven guides and porters, had been +blown off by the wind and precipitated on the Cormayeur side, doubtless into +the Brenva glacier. Despite the most vigilant search, their bodies could not be +found. The other three were found one hundred and fifty yards below the summit, +near the Petits-Mulets. They had become blocks of ice.” +</p> + +<p> +“But these travellers must have been imprudent,” said I to Ravanel. +“What folly it was to start off so late in the year on such an +expedition! They should have gone up in August.” +</p> + +<p> +I vainly tried to keep up my courage; this lugubrious story would haunt me in +spite of myself. Happily the weather soon cleared, and the rays of a bright sun +dissipated the clouds which still veiled Mont Blanc, and, at the same time, +those which overshadowed my thoughts. +</p> + +<p> +Our ascent was satisfactorily accomplished. On leaving the chalets of Planpraz, +situated at a height of two thousand and sixty-two yards, you ascend, on ragged +masses of rock and pools of snow, to the foot of a rock called “The +Chimney,” which is scaled with the feet and hands. Twenty minutes after, +you reach the summit of the Brevent, whence the view is very fine. The chain of +Mont Blanc appears in all its majesty. The gigantic mountain, firmly +established on its powerful strata, seems to defy the tempests which sweep +across its icy shield without ever impairing it; whilst the crowd of icy +needles, peaks, mountains, which form its cortege and rise everywhere around +it, without equalling its noble height, carry the evident traces of a slow +wasting away. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<a name="image48"></a> +<img src="images/image48.jpg" width="374" height="368" alt="[Illustration: ]" /> +<p class="caption">View of Mont Blanc from the Brevent. +</p> +</div> + +<p> +From the excellent look-out which we occupied, we could reckon, though still +imperfectly, the distance to be gone over in order to attain the summit. This +summit, which from Chamonix appears so near the dome of the Goûter, now took +its true position. The various plateaus which form so many degrees which must +be crossed, and which are not visible from below, appeared from the Brevent, +and threw the so-much-desired summit, by the laws of perspective, still farther +in the background. The Bossons glacier, in all its splendour, bristled with icy +needles and blocks (blocks sometimes ten yards square), which seemed, like the +waves of an angry sea, to beat against the sides of the rocks of the +Grands-Mulets, the base of which disappeared in their midst. +</p> + +<p> +This marvellous spectacle was not likely to cool my impatience, and I more +eagerly than ever promised myself to explore this hitherto unknown world. +</p> + +<p> +My companion was equally inspired by the scene, and from this moment I began to +think that I should not have to ascend Mont Blanc alone. +</p> + +<p> +We descended again to Chamonix; the weather became milder every hour; the +barometer continued to ascend; everything seemed to promise well. +</p> + +<p> +The next day at sunrise I hastened to the master-guide. The sky was cloudless; +the wind, almost imperceptible, was north-east. The chain of Mont Blanc, the +higher summits of which were gilded by the rising sun, seemed to invite the +many tourists to ascend it. One could not, in all politeness, refuse so kindly +an invitation. +</p> + +<p> +M. Balmat, after consulting his barometer, declared the ascent to be +practicable, and promised me the two guides and the porter prescribed in our +agreement. I left the selection of these to him. But an unexpected incident +disturbed my preparations for departure. +</p> + +<p> +As I came out of M. Balmat’s office, I met Ravanel, my guide of the day +before. +</p> + +<p> +“Is monsieur going to Mont Blanc?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, certainly,” said I. “Is it not a favourable time to +go?” +</p> + +<p> +He reflected a few moments, and then said with an embarrassed air,— +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur, you are my traveller; I accompanied you yesterday to the +Brevent, so I cannot leave you now; and, since you are going up, I will go with +you, if you will kindly accept my services. It is your right, for on all +dangerous journeys the traveller can choose his own guides. Only, if you accept +my offer, I ask that you will also take my brother, Ambrose Ravanel, and my +cousin, Gaspard Simon. These are young, vigorous fellows; they do not like the +ascent of Mont Blanc better than I do; but they will not shirk it, and I answer +for them to you as I would for myself.” +</p> + +<p> +This young man inspired me with all confidence. I accepted his proposition, and +hastened to apprise M. Balmat of the choice I had made. But M. Balmat had +meanwhile been selecting guides for me according to their turn on his list. One +only had accepted, Edward Simon; the answer of another, Jean Carrier, had not +yet been received, though it was scarcely doubtful, as this man had already +made the ascent of Mont Blanc twenty-nine times. I thus found myself in an +embarrassing position. The guides I had chosen were all from Argentière, a +village six kilometres from Chamonix. Those of Chamonix accused Ravanel of +having influenced me in favour of his family, which was contrary to the +regulations. +</p> + +<p> +To cut the discussion short, I took Edward Simon, who had already made his +preparations as a third guide. He would be useless if I went up alone, but +would become indispensable if my friend also ascended. +</p> + +<p> +This settled, I went to tell Donatien Levesque. I found him sleeping the sleep +of the just, for he had walked over sixteen kilometres on a mountain the +evening before. I had some difficulty in waking him; but on removing first his +sheets, then his pillows, and finally his mattress, I obtained some result, and +succeeded in making him understand that I was preparing for the hazardous trip. +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” said he, yawning, “I will go with you as far as the +Grands-Mulets, and await your return there.” +</p> + +<p> +“Bravo!” I replied. “I have just one guide too many, and I +will attach him to your person.” +</p> + +<p> +We bought the various articles indispensable to a journey across the glaciers. +Iron-spiked alpenstocks, coarse cloth leggings, green spectacles fitting +tightly to the eyes, furred gloves, green veils,—nothing was forgotten. +We each had excellent triple-soled shoes, which our guides roughed for the ice. +This last is an important detail, for there are moments in such an expedition +when the least slip is fatal, not only to yourself, but to the whole party with +you. +</p> + +<p> +Our preparations and those of the guides occupied nearly two hours. About eight +o’clock our mules were brought; and we set out at last for the chalet of +the Pierre-Pointue, situated at a height of six thousand five hundred feet, or +three thousand above the valley of Chamonix, not far from eight thousand five +hundred feet below the summit of Mont Blanc. +</p> + +<p> +On reaching the Pierre-Pointue, about ten o’clock, we found there a +Spanish tourist, M. N——, accompanied by two guides and a porter. +His principal guide, Paccard, a relative of the Doctor Paccard who made, with +Jacques Balmat, the first ascent of Mont Blanc, had already been to the summit +eighteen times. M. N—— was also getting himself ready for the +ascent. He had travelled much in America, and had crossed the Cordilleras to +Quito, passing through snow at the highest points. He therefore thought that he +could, without great difficulty, carry through his new enterprise; but in this +he was mistaken. He had reckoned without the steepness of the inclinations +which he had to cross, and the rarefaction of the air. I hasten to add, to his +honour, that, since he succeeded in reaching the summit of Mont Blanc, it was +due to a rare moral energy, for his physical energies had long before deserted +him. +</p> + +<p> +We breakfasted as heartily as possible at the Pierre-Pointue; this being a +prudent precaution, as the appetite usually fails higher up among the ice. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<a name="image49"></a> +<img src="images/image49.jpg" width="376" height="370" alt="[Illustration: ]" /> +<p class="caption">View Of Bossons Glacier, Near The Grands-Mulets. +</p> +</div> + +<p> +M. N—— set out at eleven, with his guides, for the Grands-Mulets. +We did not start until noon. The mule-road ceases at the Pierre-Pointue. We had +then to go up a very narrow zigzag path, which follows the edge of the Bossons +glacier, and along the base of the Aiguille-du-Midi. After an hour of difficult +climbing in an intense heat, we reached a point called the +Pierre-a-l’Echelle, eight thousand one hundred feet high. The guides and +travellers were then bound together by a strong rope, with three or four yards +between each. We were about to advance upon the Bossons glacier. This glacier, +difficult at first, presents yawning and apparently bottomless crevasses on +every hand. The vertical sides of these crevasses are of a glaucous and +uncertain colour, but too seducing to the eye; when, approaching closely, you +succeed in looking into their mysterious depths, you feel yourself irresistibly +drawn towards them, and nothing seems more natural than to go down into them. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<a name="image50"></a> +<img src="images/image50.jpg" width="376" height="372" alt="[Illustration: ]" /> +<p class="caption">Passage Of The Bossons Glacier. +</p> +</div> + +<p> +You advance slowly, passing round the crevasses, or on the snow bridges of +dubious strength. Then the rope plays its part. It is stretched out over these +dangerous transits; if the snow bridge yields, the guide or traveller remains +hanging over the abyss. He is drawn beyond it, and gets off with a few bruises. +Sometimes, if the crevasse is very wide but not deep, he descends to the bottom +and goes up on the other side. In this case it is necessary to cut steps in the +ice, and the two leading guides, armed with a sort of hatchet, perform this +difficult and perilous task. A special circumstance makes the entrance on the +Bossons dangerous. You go upon the glacier at the base of the Aiguille-du-Midi, +opposite a passage whence stone avalanches often descend. This passage is +nearly six hundred feet wide. It must be crossed quickly, and as you pass, a +guide stands on guard to avert the danger from you if it presents itself. In +1869 a guide was killed on this spot, and his body, hurled into space by a +stone, was dashed to pieces on the rocks nine hundred feet below. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<a name="image51"></a> +<img src="images/image51.jpg" width="366" height="368" alt="[Illustration: ]" /> +<p class="caption">Crevasse and Bridge. +</p> +</div> + +<p> +We were warned, and hastened our steps as fast as our inexperience would +permit; but on leaving this dangerous zone, another, not less dangerous, +awaited us. This was the region of the “seracs,”—immense +blocks of ice, the formation of which is not as yet explained. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<a name="image52"></a> +<img src="images/image52.jpg" width="378" height="364" alt="[Illustration: ]" /> +<p class="caption">View of the “Seracs”. +</p> +</div> + +<p> +These are usually situated on the edge of a plateau, and menace the 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. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<a name="image53"></a> +<img src="images/image53.jpg" width="374" height="370" alt="[Illustration: ]" /> +<p class="caption">View of the “Seracs”. +</p> +</div> + +<p> +“Messieurs, keep quiet, and let us pass over quickly.” These words, +roughly spoken by one of the guides, checked our conversation. We went across +rapidly and in silence. We finally reached what is called the +“Junction” (which might more properly be called the violent +“Separation”), by the Côte Mountain, the Bossons and Tacconay +glaciers. At this point the scene assumes an indescribable character; crevasses +with changing colours, ice-needles with sharp forms, seracs suspended and +pierced with the light, little green lakes compose a chaos which surpasses +everything that one can imagine. Added to this, the rush of the torrents at the +foot of the glaciers, the sinister and repeated crackings of the blocks which +detached themselves and fell in avalanches down the crevasses, the trembling of +the ground which opened beneath our feet, gave a singular idea of those +desolate places the existence of which only betrays itself by destruction and +death. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<a name="image54"></a> +<img src="images/image54.jpg" width="374" height="366" alt="[Illustration: ]" /> +<p class="caption">Passage of the “Junction”. +</p> +</div> + +<p> +After passing the “Junction” you follow the Tacconay glacier for +awhile, and reach the side which leads to the Grands-Mulets. This part, which +is very sloping, is traversed in zigzags. The leading guide takes care to trace +them at an angle of thirty degrees, when there is fresh snow, to avoid the +avalanches. +</p> + +<p> +After crossing for three hours on the ice and snow, we reach the Grands-Mulets, +rocks six hundred feet high, overlooking on one side the Bossons glacier, and +on the other the sloping plains which extend to the base of the Goûter dome. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<a name="image55"></a> +<img src="images/image55.jpg" width="364" height="368" alt="[Illustration: ]" /> +<p class="caption">Hut At The Grands-Mulets. +</p> +</div> + +<p> +A small hut, constructed by the guides near the summit of the first rock, gives +a shelter to travellers, and enables them to await a favourable moment for +setting out for the summit of Mont Blanc. +</p> + +<p> +They dine there as well as they can, and sleep too; but the proverb, “He +who sleeps dines,” does not apply to this elevation, for one cannot +seriously do the one or the other. +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” said I to Levesque, after a pretence of a meal, “did +I exaggerate the splendour of the landscape, and do you regret having come thus +far?” +</p> + +<p> +“I regret it so little,” he replied, “that I am determined to +go on to the summit. You may count on me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Very good,” said I. “But you know the worst is yet to +come.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nonsense!” he exclaimed, “we will go to the end. Meanwhile, +let us observe the sunset, which must be magnificent.” +</p> + +<p> +The heavens had remained wonderfully clear. The chain of the Brevent and the +Aiguilles-Rouges stretched out at our feet. Beyond, the Fiz rocks and the +Aiguille-de-Varan rose above the Sallanche Valley, and the whole chains of Mont +Fleury and the Reposoir appeared in the background. More to the right we could +descry the snowy summit of the Buet, and farther off the Dents-du-Midi, with +its five tusks, overhanging the valley of the Rhone. Behind us were the eternal +snows of the Goûter, Mont Maudit, and, lastly, Mont Blanc. +</p> + +<p> +Little by little the shadows invaded the valley of Chamonix, and gradually each +of the summits which overlook it on the west. The chain of Mont Blanc alone +remained luminous, and seemed encircled by a golden halo. Soon the shadows +crept up the Goûter and Mont Maudit. They still respected the giant of the +Alps. We watched this gradual disappearance of the light with admiration. It +lingered awhile on the highest summit, and gave us the foolish hope that it +would not depart thence. But in a few moments all was shrouded in gloom, and +the livid and ghastly colours of death succeeded the living hues. I do not +exaggerate. Those who love mountains will comprehend me. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<a name="image56"></a> +<img src="images/image56.jpg" width="370" height="368" alt="[Illustration: ]" /> +<p class="caption">View of Mont Blanc from Grands-Mulets. +</p> +</div> + +<p> +After witnessing this sublime scene, we had only to await the moment of +departure. We were to set out again at two in the morning. Now, therefore, we +stretched ourselves upon our mattresses. +</p> + +<p> +It was useless to think of sleeping, much more of talking. We were absorbed by +more or less gloomy thoughts. It was the night before the battle, with the +difference that nothing forced us to engage in the struggle. Two sorts of ideas +struggled in the mind. It was the ebb and flow of the sea, each in its turn. +Objections to the venture were not wanting. Why run so much danger? If we +succeeded, of what advantage would it be? If an accident happened, how we +should regret it! Then the imagination set to work; all the mountain +catastrophes rose in the fancy. I dreamed of snow bridges giving way under my +feet, of being precipitated in the yawning crevasses, of hearing the terrible +noises of the avalanches detaching themselves and burying me, of disappearing, +of cold and death seizing upon me, and of struggling with desperate effort, but +in vain! +</p> + +<p> +A sharp, horrible noise is heard at this moment +</p> + +<p> +“The avalanche! the avalanche!” I cry. +</p> + +<p> +“What is the matter with you?” asks Levesque, starting up. +</p> + +<p> +Alas! It is a piece of furniture which, in the struggles of my nightmare, I +have just broken. This very prosaic avalanche recalls me to the reality. I +laugh at my terrors, a contrary current of thought gets the upper hand, and +with it ambitious ideas. I need only use a little effort to reach this summit, +so seldom attained. It is a victory, as others are. Accidents are +rare—very rare! Do they ever take place at all? The spectacle from the +summit must be so marvellous! And then what satisfaction there would be in +having accomplished what so many others dared not undertake! +</p> + +<p> +My courage was restored by these thoughts, and I calmly awaited the moment of +departure. +</p> + +<p> +About one o’clock the steps and voices of the guides, and the noise of +opening doors, indicated that that moment was approaching. Soon Ravanel came in +and said, “Come, messieurs, get up; the weather is magnificent. By ten +o’clock we shall be at the’ summit.” +</p> + +<p> +At these words we leaped from our beds, and hurried to make our toilet. Two of +the guides, Ambrose Ravanel and his cousin Simon, went on ahead to explore the +road. They were provided with a lantern, which was to show us the way to go, +and with hatchets to make the path and cut steps in the very difficult spots. +At two o’clock we tied ourselves one to another: the order of march was, +Edward Ravanel before me, and at the head; behind me Edward Simon, then +Donatien Levesque; after him our two porters (for we took along with us the +domestic of the Grands-Mulets hut as a second), and M. N——’s +party. +</p> + +<p> +The guides and porters having distributed the provisions between them, the +signal for departure was given, and we set off in the midst of profound +darkness, directing ourselves according to the lantern held up at some distance +ahead. +</p> + +<p> +There was something solemn in this setting out. But few words were spoken; the +vagueness of the unknown impressed us, but the new and strange situation +excited us, and rendered us insensible to its dangers. The landscape around was +fantastic. But few outlines were distinguishable. Great white confused masses, +with blackish spots here and there, closed the horizon. The celestial vault +shone with remarkable brilliancy. We could perceive, at an uncertain distance, +the lantern of the guides who were ahead, and the mournful silence of the night +was only disturbed by the dry, distant noise of the hatchet cutting steps in +the ice. +</p> + +<p> +We crept slowly and cautiously over the first ascent, going towards the base of +the Goûter. After ascending laboriously for two 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 left and going towards the edge which conducts to +the “Grand-Plateau.” +</p> + +<p> +But our party had already lessened in number: M. N——, with his +guides, had stopped; his fatigue obliged him to take a longer rest. +</p> + +<p> +About half-past four dawn began to whiten the horizon. At this moment we were +ascending the slope which leads to the Grand-Plateau, which we soon safely +reached. We were eleven thousand eight hundred feet high. We had well earned +our breakfast. Wonderful to relate, Levesque and I had a good appetite. It was +a good sign. We therefore installed ourselves on the snow, and made such a +repast as we could. Our guides joyfully declared that success was certain. As +for me, I thought they resumed work too quickly. +</p> + +<p> +M. N—— rejoined us before long. We urged him to take some +nourishment. He peremptorily refused. He felt the contraction of the stomach +which is so common in those parts, and was almost broken down. +</p> + +<p> +The Grand-Plateau deserves a special description. On the right rises the dome +of the Goûter. Opposite it is Mont Blanc, rearing itself two thousand seven +hundred feet above it. On the left are the “Rouges” rocks and Mont +Maudit. This immense circle is one mass of glittering whiteness. On every side +are vast crevasses. It was in one of these that three of the guides who +accompanied Dr. Hamel and Colonel Anderson, in 1820, were swallowed up. In 1864 +another guide met his death there. +</p> + +<p> +This plateau must be crossed with great caution, as the crevasses are often +hidden by the snow; besides, it is often swept by avalanches. On the 13th of +October, 1866, an English traveller and three of his guides were buried under a +mass of ice that fell from Mont Blanc. After a perilous search, the bodies of +the three guides were found. They were expecting every moment to find that of +the Englishman, when a fresh avalanche fell upon the first, and forced the +searchers to abandon their task. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<a name="image57"></a> +<img src="images/image57.jpg" width="368" height="368" alt="[Illustration: ]" /> +<p class="caption">Crossing the Plateau. +</p> +</div> + +<p> +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 gentle ascents to the top of the +first escarpment of the Rouges rocks. +</p> + +<p> +The second, less frequented, turns to the right by the Goûter, and leads to the +summit of Mont Blanc by the ridge which unites these two mountains. You must +pursue for three hours a giddy path, and scale a height of moving ice, called +the “Camel’s Hump.” +</p> + +<p> +The third route consists in ascending directly to the summit of the Corridor, +crossing an ice-wall seven hundred and fifty feet high, which extends along the +first escarpment of the Rouges rocks. +</p> + +<p> +The guides declared the first route impracticable, on account of the recent +crevasses which entirely obstructed it; the choice between 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 conducting to the summit of the Corridor. +</p> + +<p> +When a decision is made, it is best to execute it without delay. We crossed the +Grand-Plateau, and reached the foot of this really formidable obstacle. +</p> + +<p> +The nearer we approached the more nearly vertical became its slope. Besides, +several crevasses which we had not perceived yawned at its base. +</p> + +<p> +We nevertheless began the difficult ascent. Steps were begun by the foremost +guide, and completed by the next. We ascended two steps a minute. The higher we +went the more the steepness increased. Our guides themselves discussed what +route to follow; they spoke in patois, and did not always agree, which was not +a good sign. At last the slope became such that our hats touched the legs of +the guide just before us. +</p> + +<p> +A hailstorm of pieces of ice, produced by the cutting of the steps, blinded us, +and made our progress still more difficult. Addressing one of the foremost +guides, I said,— +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, it’s very well going up this way! It is not an open road, I +admit: still, it is practicable. Only how are you going to get us down +again?” +</p> + +<p> +“O monsieur,” replied Ambrose Ravanel, “we will take another +route going back.” +</p> + +<p> +At last, after violent effort for two hours, and after having cut more than +four hundred steps in this terrible mass, we reached the summit of the Corridor +completely exhausted. +</p> + +<p> +We then crossed a slightly sloping plateau of snow, and passed along the side +of an immense crevasse which obstructed our way. We had scarcely turned it when +we uttered a cry of admiration. On the right, Piedmont and the plains of +Lombardy were at our feet. On the left, the Pennine Alps and the Oberland, +crowned with snow, raised their magnificent crests. Monte Rosa and the Cervin +alone still rose above us, but soon we should overlook them in our turn. +</p> + +<p> +This reflection recalled us to the end of our expedition. We turned our gaze +towards Mont Blanc, and stood stupefied. +</p> + +<p> +“Heavens! how far off it is still!” cried Levesque. +</p> + +<p> +“And how high!” I added. +</p> + +<p> +It was a discouraging sight. The famous wall of the ridge, so much feared, but +which must be crossed, was before us, with its slope of fifty degrees. But +after scaling the wall of the Corridor, it did not terrify us. We rested for +half an hour and then continued our tramp; but we soon perceived that the +atmospheric conditions were no longer the same. The sun shed his warm rays upon +us; and their reflection on the snow added to our discomfort. The rarefaction +of the air began to be severely felt. We advanced slowly, making frequent +halts, and at last reached the plateau which overlooks the second escarpment of +the Rouges rocks. We were at the foot of Mont Blanc. It rose, alone and +majestic, at a height of six hundred feet above us. Monte Rosa itself had +lowered its flag! +</p> + +<p> +Levesque and I were completely exhausted. As for M. N——, who had +rejoined us at the summit of the Corridor, it might be said that he was +insensible to the rarefaction of the air, for he no longer breathed, so to +speak. +</p> + +<p> +We began at last to scale the last stage. We made ten steps and then stopped, +finding it absolutely impossible to proceed. A painful contraction of the +throat made our breathing exceedingly difficult. Our legs refused to carry us; +and I then understood the picturesque expression of Jacques Balmat, when, in +narrating his first ascent, he said that “his legs seemed only to be kept +up by his trousers!” But our mental was superior to our physical force; +and if the body faltered, the heart, responding “Excelsior!” +stifled its desperate complaint, and urged forward our poor worn-out mechanism, +despite itself. We thus passed the Petits-Mulets, and after two hours of +superhuman efforts finally overlooked the entire chain. Mont Blanc was under +our feet! +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<a name="image58"></a> +<img src="images/image58.jpg" width="364" height="366" alt="[Illustration: ]" /> +<p class="caption">Summit of Mont Blanc. +</p> +</div> + +<p> +It was fifteen minutes after twelve. +</p> + +<p> +The pride of success soon dissipated our fatigue. We had at last conquered this +formidable crest. We overlooked all the others, and the thoughts which Mont +Blanc alone can inspire affected us with a deep emotion. It was ambition +satisfied; and to me, at least, a dream realized! +</p> + +<p> +Mont Blanc is the highest mountain in Europe. Several mountains in Asia and +America are higher; but of what use would it be to attempt them, if, in the +absolute impossibility of reaching their summit, you must be content to remain +at a lesser height? +</p> + +<p> +Others, such as Mont Cervin, are more difficult of access; but we perceived the +summit of Mont Cervin twelve hundred feet below us! +</p> + +<p> +And then, what a view to reward us for our troubles and dangers! +</p> + +<p> +The sky, still pure, had assumed a deep-blue tint. The sun, despoiled of a part +of his rays, had lost his brilliancy, as if in a partial eclipse. This effect, +due to the rarefaction of the air, was all the more apparent as the surrounding +eminences and plains were inundated with light. No detail of the scene, +therefore, escaped our notice. +</p> + +<p> +In the south-east, the mountains of Piedmont, and farther off the plains of +Lombardy, shut in our horizon. Towards the west, the mountains 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, the +Mischabelhoerner, the Cervin, the Weishorn—the most beautiful of crests, +as Tyndall calls it—and farther off by the Jungfrau, the Monck, the +Eiger, and the Finsteraarhorn. +</p> + +<p> +The extent of our range of vision was not less than sixty leagues. We therefore +saw at least one hundred and twenty leagues of country. +</p> + +<p> +A special circumstance happened to enhance the beauty of the scene. Clouds +formed on the Italian side and invaded the valleys of the Pennine Alps without +veiling their summits. We soon had under our eyes a second sky, a lower sky, a +sea of clouds, whence emerged a perfect archipelago of peaks and snow-wrapped +mountains. There was something magical in it, which the greatest poets could +scarcely describe. +</p> + +<p> +The summit of Mont Blanc forms a ridge from southwest to north-east, two +hundred paces long and a yard wide at the culminating point. It seemed like a +ship’s hull overturned, the keel in the air. +</p> + +<p> +Strangely enough, the temperature was very high—ten degrees above zero. +The air was almost still. Sometimes we felt a light breeze. +</p> + +<p> +The first care of our guides was to place us all in a line on the crest +opposite Chamonix, that we might be easily counted from below, and thus make it +known that no one of us had been lost. Many of the tourists had ascended the +Brevent and the Jardin to watch our ascent. They might now be assured of its +success. +</p> + +<p> +But to ascend was not all; we must think also of going down. The most +difficult, if not most wearisome, task remained; and then one quits with regret +a summit attained at the price of so much toil. The energy which urges you to +ascend, the need, so natural and imperious, of overcoming, now fails you. You +go forward listlessly, often looking behind you! +</p> + +<p> +It was necessary, however, to decide, and, after a last traditional libation of +champagne, we put ourselves in motion. We had remained on the summit an hour. +The order of march was now changed. M. N——’s party led off; +and, at the suggestion of his guide Paccard, we were all tied together with a +rope. M. N——’s fatigue, which his strength, but not his will, +betrayed, made us fear falls on his part which would require the help of the +whole party to arrest. The event justified our foreboding. On descending the +side of the wall, M. N—— made several false steps. His guides, very +vigorous and skilful, were happily able to check him; but ours, feeling, with +reason, that the whole party might be dragged down, wished to detach us from +the rope. Levesque and I opposed this; and, by taking great precautions, we +safely reached the base of this giddy ledge. There was no room for illusions. +The almost bottomless abyss was before us, and the pieces of detached ice, +which bounded by us with the rapidity of an arrow, clearly showed us the route +which the party would take if a slip were made. +</p> + +<p> +Once this terrible gap crossed, I began to breathe again. We descended the +gradual slopes which led to the summit of the Corridor. The snow, softened by +the heat, yielded beneath our feet; we sank in it to the knees, which made our +progress very fatiguing. We steadily followed the path by which we ascended in +the morning, and I was astonished when Gaspard Simon, turning towards me, +said,— +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur, we cannot take any other road, for the Corridor is +impracticable, and we must descend by the wall which we climbed up this +morning.” +</p> + +<p> +I told Levesque this disagreeable news. +</p> + +<p> +“Only,” added Gaspard Simon, “I do not think we can all +remain tied together. However, we will see how M. N—— bears it at +first.” +</p> + +<p> +We advanced towards this terrible wall! M. N——’s party began +to descend, and we heard Paccard talking rapidly to him. The inclination became +so steep that we perceived neither him nor his guides, though we were bound +together by the same rope. +</p> + +<p> +As soon as Gaspard Simon, who went before me, could comprehend what was +passing, he stopped, and after exchanging some words in <i>patois</i> with his +comrades, declared that we must detach ourselves from M. +N——’s party. +</p> + +<p> +“We are responsible for you,” he added, “but we cannot be +responsible for others; and if they slip, they will drag us after them.” +</p> + +<p> +Saying this, he got loose from the rope. We were very unwilling to take this +step; but our guides were inflexible. +</p> + +<p> +We then proposed to send two of them to help M. N——’s guides. +They eagerly consented; but having no rope they could not put this plan into +execution. +</p> + +<p> +We then began this terrible descent. Only one of us moved at a time, and when +each took a step the others buttressed themselves ready to sustain the shock if +he slipped. The foremost guide, Edward Ravanel, had the most perilous task; it +was for him to make the steps over again, now more or less worn away by the +ascending caravan. +</p> + +<p> +We progressed slowly, taking the most careful precautions. Our route led us in +a right line to one of the crevasses which opened at the base of the +escarpment. When we were going up we could not look at this crevasse, but in +descending we were fascinated by its green and yawning sides. All the blocks of +ice detached by our passage went the same way, and after two or three bounds, +ingulfed themselves in the crevasse, as in the jaws of the minotaur, only the +jaws of the minotaur closed after each morsel, while the unsatiated crevasse +yawned perpetually, and seemed to await, before closing, a larger mouthful. It +was for us to take care that we should not be this mouthful, and all our +efforts were made for this end. In order to withdraw ourselves from this +fascination, this moral giddiness, if I may so express myself, we tried to joke +about the dangerous position in which we found ourselves, and which even a +chamois would not have envied us. We even got so far as to hum one of +Offenbach’s couplets; but I must confess that our jokes were feeble, and +that we did not sing the airs correctly. +</p> + +<p> +I even thought I discovered Levesque obstinately setting the words of +“Barbe-Bleue” to one of the airs in “Il Trovatore,” +which rather indicated some grave preoccupation of the mind. In short, in order +to keep up our spirits, we did as do those brave cowards who sing in the dark +to forget their fright. +</p> + +<p> +We remained thus, suspended between life and death, for an hour, which seemed +an eternity; at last we reached the bottom of this terrible escarpment. We +there found M. N—— and his party, safe and sound. +</p> + +<p> +After resting a little while, we continued our journey. +</p> + +<p> +As we were approaching the Petit-Plateau, Edward Ravanel suddenly stopped, and, +turning towards us, said,— +</p> + +<p> +“See what an avalanche! It has covered our tracks.” +</p> + +<p> +An immense avalanche of ice had indeed fallen from the Goûter, and entirely +buried the path we had followed in the morning across the Petit-Plateau. +</p> + +<p> +I estimated that the mass of this avalanche could not comprise less than five +hundred cubic yards. If it had fallen while we were passing, one more +catastrophe would no doubt have been added to the list, already too long, of +the necrology of Mont Blanc. +</p> + +<p> +This fresh obstacle forced us to seek a new road, or to pass around the foot of +the avalanche. As we were much fatigued, the latter course was assuredly the +simplest; but it involved a serious danger. A wall of ice more than sixty feet +high, already partly detached from the Goûter, to which it only clung by one of +its angles, overhung the path which we should follow. This great mass seemed to +hold itself in equilibrium. What if our passing, by disturbing the air, should +hasten its fall? Our guides held a consultation. Each of them examined with a +spy-glass the fissure which 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. +</p> + +<p> +After a brief discussion, our guides, recognizing the impossibility of finding +another road, decided to attempt this dangerous passage. +</p> + +<p> +“We must walk very fast,—even run, if possible,” said they, +“and we shall be in safety in five minutes. Come, messieurs, a last +effort!” +</p> + +<p> +A run of five minutes is a small matter for people who are only tired; but for +us, who were absolutely exhausted, to run even for so short a time on soft +snow, in which we sank up to the knees, seemed an impossibility. Nevertheless, +we made an urgent appeal to our energies, and after two or three tumbles, drawn +forward by one, pushed by another, we finally reached a snow hillock, on which +we fell breathless. We were out of danger. +</p> + +<p> +It required some time to recover ourselves. We stretched out on the snow with a +feeling of comfort which every one will understand. The greatest difficulties +had been surmounted, and though there were still dangers to brave, we could +confront them with comparatively little apprehension. +</p> + +<p> +We prolonged our halt in the hope of witnessing the fall of the avalanche, but +in vain. As the day was advancing, and it was not prudent to tarry in these icy +solitudes, we decided to continue on our way, and about five o’clock we +reached the hut of the Grands-Mulets. +</p> + +<p> +After a bad night, attended by fever caused by the sunstrokes encountered in +our expedition, we made ready to return to Chamonix; but, before setting out, +we inscribed the names of our guides and the principal events of our journey, +according to the custom, on the register kept for this purpose at the +Grands-Mulets. +</p> + +<p> +About eight o’clock we started for Chamonix. The passage of the Bossons +was difficult, but we accomplished it without accident. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<a name="image59"></a> +<img src="images/image59.jpg" width="366" height="370" alt="[Illustration: ]" /> +<p class="caption">Grands-Mulets.—Party Descending From The Hut. +</p> +</div> + +<p> +Half an hour before reaching Chamonix, we met, at the chalet of the Dard falls, +some English tourists, who seemed to be watching our progress. When they +perceived us, they hurried up eagerly to congratulate us on our success. One of +them presented us to his wife, a charming person, with a well-bred air. After +we had given them a sketch of our perilous peregrinations, she said to us, in +earnest accents,— +</p> + +<p> +“How much you are envied here by everybody! Let me touch your +alpenstocks!” +</p> + +<p> +These words seemed to interpret the general feeling. +</p> + +<p> +The ascent of Mont Blanc is a very painful one. It is asserted that the +celebrated naturalist of Geneva, De Saussure, acquired there the seeds of the +disease of which he died in a few months after his return from the summit. I +cannot better close this narrative than by quoting the words of M. Markham +Sherwell:— +</p> + +<p> +“However it may be,” he says, in describing his ascent of Mont +Blanc, “I would not advise any one to undertake this ascent, the rewards +of which can never have an importance proportionate to the dangers encountered +by the tourist, and by those who accompany him.” +</p> + +<h3>THE END.</h3> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A WINTER AMID THE ICE ***</div> +<div style='text-align:left'> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will +be renamed. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United +States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. 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