V

V

I HAD ONLY JUST time to replace the unfortunate document on the table.

Professor Lidenbrock seemed to be greatly abstracted.

His main concern gave him no rest. Evidently he had gone deeply into the matter, analytically and with profound scrutiny. He had brought all the resources of his mind to bear on it during his walk, and he had come back to try out some new combination.

He sat in his armchair, and pen in hand he began with what looked very much like an algebraic calculation: I followed his trembling hand with my eyes; not one of his movements was lost on me. Might not some unhoped-for result come of it? I trembled, too, very unnecessarily, since the true key was in my hands, and no other would open the secret.

For three long hours my uncle worked on without a word, without lifting his head; erasing, starting over, then erasing again, and so on a hundred times.

I knew very well that if he succeeded in setting down these letters in every possible relative position, the sentence would come out. But I also knew that twenty letters alone could form two quintillion, four hundred and thirty-two quadrillion, nine hundred and two trillion, eight billion, a hundred and seventy-six million, six hundred and forty thousand combinations. Now there were a hundred and thirty-two letters in this sentence, and these hundred and thirty-two letters would yield a number of different sentences, each made up of at least a hundred and thirty-three figures, a number almost impossible to calculate or conceive.

So I felt reassured about this heroic method of solving the problem.

But time passed; night came on; the street noises ceased; my uncle, bending over his task, noticed nothing, not even Martha half opening the door; he heard not a sound, not even this noble servant saying:

“Will Professor Lidenbrock not have any dinner tonight?”

Poor Martha had to go away unanswered. As for me, after long resistance, I was overcome by sleep, and fell asleep at one end of the sofa, while Uncle Lidenbrock went on calculating and erasing his calculations.

When I awoke the next morning that indefatigable worker was still at his task. His red eyes, his pale complexion, his hair tangled in his feverish hand, the red spots on his cheeks, said enough about his desperate struggle with the impossible, and with what weariness of spirit and exhaustion of the brain the hours must have passed for him.

In truth, I felt sorry for him. In spite of the reproaches which I thought I had a right to make him, a certain feeling of compassion began to take hold of me. The poor man was so entirely taken up with his one idea that he had even forgotten how to get angry. All his vital forces were concentrated on a single point, and because their usual vent was closed, it was to be feared that their pent-up tension might lead to an explosion any moment.

I could have loosened the steel vice that was crushing his brain with one gesture, with just one word! But I did nothing.

Yet I was not an ill-natured fellow. Why did I remain silent in such a crisis? In my uncle’s own interest.

“No, no,” I repeated, “no, I won’t speak! He’d insist on going, I know him; nothing on earth could stop him. He has a volcanic imagination, and would risk his life to do what other geologists have never done. I’ll keep silent. I’ll keep the secret that chance has revealed to me. To reveal it would be to kill Professor Lidenbrock! Let him find it out himself if he can. I don’t want to have to reproach myself some day that I led him to his destruction.”

Having made this resolution, I folded my arms and waited. But I had not anticipated a little incident which occurred a few hours later.

When the maid Martha wanted to go to the market, she found the door locked. The big key was gone. Who could have taken it out? Assuredly, it was my uncle, when he returned the night before from his hurried walk.

Was this done on purpose? Or was it a mistake? Did he want to expose us to hunger? This seemed like going rather too far! What! should Martha and I be victims of a situation that did not concern us in the least? It was a fact that a few years before this, while my uncle was working on his great classification of minerals, he went for forty-eight hours without eating, and all his household was obliged to share in this scientific fast. As for me, what I remember is that I got severe stomach cramps, which hardly suited the constitution of a hungry, growing lad.

Now it seemed to me as if breakfast was going to be lacking, just as dinner had been the night before. Yet I resolved to be a hero, and not to be conquered by the pangs of hunger. Martha took it very seriously, and, poor woman, was very much distressed. As for me, the impossibility of leaving the house worried me even more, and for good reason. You understand me.

My uncle went on working, his imagination went off rambling into the ideal world of combinations; he lived far away from earth, and genuinely beyond earthly needs.

At about noon, hunger began to sting me severely Martha had, without thinking any harm, cleared out the larder the night before, so that now there was nothing left in the house. Still I held out; I made it a point of honor.

Two o’clock struck. This was becoming ridiculous; worse than that, unbearable. I opened my eyes wide. I began to say to myself that I was exaggerating the importance of the document; that my uncle would surely not believe in it, that he would set it down as a mere puzzle; that if it came to the worst, we would restrain him in spite of himself if he wanted to undertake the adventure; that, after all, he might discover the key of the cipher by himself, and that I would then have suffered abstinence for nothing.

These reasons seemed excellent to me, though on the night before I would have rejected them with indignation; I even found it completely absurd to have waited so long, and made a decision to say it all.

I was looking for a way of bringing up the matter that was not too abrupt when the professor jumped up, put on his hat, and prepared to go out.

What! Going out again, and locking us in once more? Never.

“Uncle!” I said.

He seemed not to hear me.

“Uncle Lidenbrock?” I repeated, speaking more loudly

“What?” he said like a man suddenly waking up.

“Well! The key?”

“What key? The door key?”

“But no!” I exclaimed. “The key to the document!”

The Professor stared at me over his spectacles; no doubt he saw something unusual in physiognomy, for he seized my arm, and questioned me with his eyes without being able to speak. Nonetheless, never was a question more forcibly put.

I nodded my head up and down.

He shook his pityingly, as if he was dealing with a lunatic.

I made a more affirmative gesture.

His eyes sparkled with live fire, his hand threatened me.

This mute conversation would, under the circumstances, have interested even the most indifferent spectator. And the truth is that I did not dare to speak out any more, so much did I fear that my uncle would smother me in his joyful embraces. But he became so urgent that I was at last compelled to answer.

“Yes, that key, chance—”

“What are you saying?” he shouted with indescribable emotion.

“There, read that!” I said, giving him the sheet of paper on which I had written.

“But this doesn’t mean anything,” he answered, crumpling up the paper.

“No, not when you start to read from the beginning, but from the end...”

I had not finished my sentence when the professor broke out into a cry, more than a cry, a real roar! A new revelation took place in his mind. He was transfigured.

“Aha, ingenious Saknussemm!” he exclaimed, “so you first wrote out your sentence backwards?”

And throwing himself on the paper, eyes dimmed and voice choked, he read the entire document from the last letter to the first.

It was phrased as follows:

In Sneffels Yoculis craterem kem delibat umbra Scartaris Julii intra calendas descende, audas viator, et terrestre centrum attinges. Kod feci. Arne Saknussemm.

Which bad Latin may be translated like this:

Descend into the crater of Snaefells Jökull, which the shadow of Scartaris touches before the calendsj of July, bold traveler, and you will reach the center of the earth. I did it. Arne Saknussemm.

In reading this, my uncle jumped up as if he had inadvertently touched a Leyden jar.k His audacity, his joy, and his conviction were magnificent to see. He came and he went; he gripped his head with both his hands; he pushed the chairs out of their places, he piled up his books; incredible as it may seem, he juggled his precious geodes; he sent a kick here, a thump there. At last his nerves calmed down, and like a man exhausted by too great an expenditure of vital power, he sank back into his armchair.

“What time is it?” he asked after a few moments of silence.

“Three o’clock,” I replied.

“Really? The dinner has passed quickly. I’m starving. Let’s eat. And then ...”

“Well?”

“After dinner, pack my suitcase.”

“What!” I exclaimed.

“And yours!” replied the merciless professor and entered into the dining-room.