The Crystal City Under the Sea (14 page)

“ Her old father and she are the last living representatives of the ancient race of the Atlantes. I am told that at an epoch, lost in the night of ages, their ancestors, refusing to leave their native soil, which was slowly being inundated by the waters of the Atlantic, had called to their aid all the resources of a science already far advanced in refinement, to struggle against the ocean, and to create for themselves in its depths an artificial existence. In fact, nothing on earth resembles this habitation, modelled and contrived in all its parts by the hand of man. Light, air, food, clothing,— there is nothing here that has not been provided by artistic ingenuity and dexterity. Animal and vegetable life even is in defiance of all natural laws.

“The duration and constancy of the struggle seem to have resulted in the highest possible development of the creative and productive powers of this submerged race. But, nevertheless, they have gradually had the worst of it in the struggle, since the race is now reduced to two individuals, Charicles and his daughter. But the results obtained in the course of long centuries are not the less wonderful. Nothing can equal the lordly splendour or the enchanted gardens where I am living, in a dream, near to Atlantis. You will think so, my dear Stephen, if you will join me here,—for the service I ask of your friendship for me, and which I am sure you will not refuse me, is to come and bring the help of your professional experience to him whom my advent has rendered unconscious. Adieu. Kermadec will give you ample details. Give my love to my mother and Hélène, and I shall expect you.

“René.”

“He expects me, does he? That is easy to say,” exclaimed the doctor, as he finished his friend’s letter, “ But how in the world does he think I am to get to his invalid’s bedside?”

“In the same way that we did, sir, by the Titania, to be sure!”

“Is she here, then?”

“Yes, sir, that is to say, I have moored her just outside the harbour mouth in a little cove I know very well, that of Porzleogan, near Cape St. Matthew. A boat to be proud of, and no mistake! But, look you, my officer desires that no one shall know it is there. I am not to tell to the gossips what he has seen down there, but he has sent me with news of himself to his mother and his cousin, virho are ladies of the right sort, and no mistake.”

“And do you think I am going to set out on such a mad errand?”

“That is your affair, sir, your affair, not mine. My officer told me to come, and I have come. I can only say he is looking out for you, and the sooner we can leave, the better. He is so afraid of not seeing you directly you get near, that he has fixed up a bell at the entrance of the lock.”

“What, a bell?”

“Just that; an electric bell that rings a peal loud enough to wake the dead. I tell you, we had something to do, both of us, to get it fixed. But now, it is very convenient. When you arrive at the water-gate, you will find an ivory button under your nose. You have only to touch it with the end of the india-rubber arm, and—whirr-rr-rr! the peal of bells is set agoing and the sluice opens in front of you. How’s that for a swagger invention? Ha, ha! he is no fool, my master!”

“What rot; the whole thing is absurd, unheard-of,” exclaimed the doctor, in great agitation. “What can René be thinking of? As if I had the time to go on such a wild goose chase!”

The sailor rightly considering that these remarks were not addressed to him, said nothing in reply.

“Well,” said the doctor, after thinking for a minute or two, “ let us go, at any rate, and relieve Madame Caoudal’s anxiety about him whom she thought never to hear of again. After that, we will see. But of all the crack-brained fellows I ever came across, René is, unquestionably, the champion.”

And, with very mixed feelings, he sought an interview with Madame Caoudal.

CHAPTER XIII
DOCTOR PATRICE’S REFLECTIONS.

A
FTER he had recovered from the first feeling of astonishment and repugnance, and the objections that he had instinctively made to René’s proposal, Fatrice came by degrees to look with more favourable eyes on the submarine expedition, which at first seemed to him so extravagant. There was no doubt, at all events, of the authenticity of Kermadec’s story. A few months ago, when he found René on his hospital bed, his professional examination of him forbade his admitting for a moment the hypothesis of insanity; and now, Kermadec’s loyalty could not be questioned. Besides, this second aspect of the surprising drama was much more easy to believe in, once the first was accepted; indeed, the worthy Kermadec appeared to be very much at his ease among the marvels he spoke of,—these frantic divings to the bottom of the sea, excursions in the gardens of the enchanted palace, and, above all, the privilege of seeing these quasi-divine personages, of speaking to them, of being admitted to a sort of intimacy with them. All this tended to pique the doctor’s curiosity, and rouse within him the spirit of adventure.

“And why,” ruminated he, “when an opportunity like this offers itself to enlarge the field of my experience, should I let it slip through my fingers? I, who am pledged by my profession to augment to the utmost of my power the knowledge of human nature; to struggle against the darkness which surrounds us on all sides, which hides from us so much of the cause and the effect of things; and, what touches us still more closely, the darkness which obscures the facts which are at our very feet, the history, the condition of a race, related to our own. Why should I miss the only chance I may ever have of raising a corner of the veil which hides so much that is mysterious? What is to stop me, after all? Fear? Never!”

Patrice could sound his own heart on this point, and only did himself justice when he told himself that he had no fear at running the risk; he knew as well as Caoudal and Kermadec how to face the terrors of the sea. If he had had a family, or any near relatives, he might hesitate. But who would wear mourning, if Patrice disappeared from this world? To be sure, Madame Caoudal would shed a tear for him, his friends would sincerely regret him; but was it that which made him pause? No, he did not conceal from himself, now that a great question had forced him to look facts in the face, and to make a long-deferred examination of his conscience, that that which held him back, and made him shrink from embarking on the expedition, was the extreme unwillingness he felt at parting from Hélène, the involuntary protest of his whole being against bidding her what might prove to be an eternal adieu. All these late events, and the many emotions they had in common, had drawn them more than ever together; and, while never departing from his stoical resolve to keep silent, the young doctor had had many opportunities of realizing how much it cost him to do so; and his high-fouled and amiable demeanour, his boundless devotion, had, unknown to himself, pleaded his cause. So much so, that Mademoiselle Rieux had come to feel giving way within her the fierce intention of ignoring him that she had so decidedly declared to Mademoiselle Luzan. That she was on the point of inverting the order of things, and, like Queen Victoria, proposing marriage to the man of her choice, certainly could hardly be said. For although she was above thinking of the miserable question of fortune which stood between herself and the man she had chosen, she had too just a sense of womanly dignity to so demean herself. But since marriages are said to be made in heaven, she could well leave matters to take their course. She had sworn, it is true, that she would never make any advances, but she was not obliged to be forever snubbing him. Nothing could prevent her manner being charming when with him, just as it was with Harancourt, Bruyeres, and many others.

In fact, did it not imply a preference for him, that she was more reserved with him than with ordinary acquaintances,—him an old, tried friend? Truly, she had been wanting in tact, she would hasten to repair the mistake;-and, by showing herself uniformly natural, try to prove that her heart was free. And, fortified with this reasoning, Hélène resumed her old manner with him, was graciously friendly and simple as of old; so that ten times a day he found himself on the point of throwing to the winds the nightmare of her fortune, and courageously asking the all-important question.

This is how matters stood. It was evidently time for him to put on the drag. The sooner the better, and René’s invitation came just in time to prevent him from committing himself. He would start at once, whatever it cost him. He had always been very practical, and for him to decide upon a thing was to do it; so he told Kermadec briefly that he was ready to embark with him. The sailor received the announcement with apparent surprise, and the doctor, having dismissed him for a few hours, hastened to Madame Caoudal’s.

He made use of all the tact and discretion that the most affectionate delicacy could suggest, to mitigate the shock the happy mother was likely to feel at the astonishing news he had to communicate. No words could do justice to the joy, admiration, and ecstacy she manifested on hearing of René’s extraordinary exploits, in reading over and over again his handwriting, in assuring herself that he was alive and that she would see him again. In the tempest of joyful emotion which succeeded her desolate grief, all her old hostility to the mysterious world that had attracted her child was swept away as if by enchantment. All her antipathy to the majestic old man and his daughter gave place to the most sincere interest, and the liveliest gratitude. They had shown hospitality to her son, and had kept him alive; him, whom she had never thought to see again. Evidently she had not done them justice; she had given way to prejudice, had been a slave to that narrow-mindedness which makes us suspicious of everything that lies outside the beaten track. Yes, yes, they must take care of this venerable old man and do their best to preserve his life for the sake of his daughter! Ah, did she not know, only too well, what it was to lose the support and protection of one’s dear ones! And how generous it was of Stephen to offer to go at once, with as little fuss as if he were called from Lorient to Brest! There was no one in the world like him, his devotion was beyond all praise. But she knew him before to-day. Was he not her child, just as much as René and Hélène?

And so the happy woman’s tongue ran on. She looked ten years younger already. She seemed transfigured, and more than once, while she was pouring her heart out. Doctor Patrice and Mademoiselle Rieux exchanged meaning glances.

“And you, my sweet child,” she said, suddenly, smoothing Hélène’s hair caressingly, as she sat on a stool, leaning her head on her aunt’s knee, “you seem very silent. Do you think, you sly little thing, that I have not seen how you have always taken the part of your harebrained cousin? Ah, you can boast openly now of our René’s fidelity and tenacity; and it is not I who will contradict you! And our dear doctor, —have you not a word of gratitude, of admiration, for his courage? Think of it! Going to shut himself up, though he is not a sailor, in that fragile torpedo-boat, to plunge bravely to the bottom of the sea, to expose himself to unprecedented risks, and all to tend a fellow man and to see an old friend!”

“Do not say too much on that score, auntie,” interrupted Hélène, raising her head with a mischievous look in her bright eyes. “My modesty forbids me to listen to praises of merit I wish to share.”

“What do you say?” cried Madame Caoudal, while the doctor waited in silence for what might come next.

“Simply this. I should like, with your permission, to trust myself to the torpedo-boat, descend to the bottom of the gulf, see the wonderful palace, embrace dear René, and, if she will, accept my help, join the charming Undine in obeying the orders of the doctor and restoring the old man to health.”

“You are dreaming, or joking. You cannot mean what you say!” cried Madame Caoudal, utterly confounded.

“Not mean what I say!” cried Hélène, whose charming face took on an expression of wilful energy. “My dear aunt, from the bottom of my heart I beg your leave to join Doctor Patrice in finding René and bringing him news of those he loves.”

“Impossible, impossible, my child,” said Madame Caoudal, much agitated at the sudden conviction that Hélène was indeed not joking,

“Why impossible, dear aunt?”

“My dear, such a thing has never been done.”

“Everything needs a beginning. Aunt Alice.”

“I never will allow you to go to the bottom of the sea, and run such fearful risks! “

“Did not René go, and did he not come back safe and sound?”

“Oh, he! “ said the mother, with a proud look in her eyes.

“And Kermadec?”

“He is a sailor.”

“And the doctor,” added Hélène, whose fun never lay dormant long; “you consent, then, to let him expose himself to perils too terrible for me?”

“Oh, you little tease!” cried Madame Caoudal, discomfited, while Patrice protested, smiling:

“That is quite a different thing, mademoiselle.”

“Prove it! I maintain, on the contrary, that for you, for me, for all, in short, who will be simply passengers on board the Titania, the risks are the same. Take me, or take a Hercules with you as companion. If he and I are equally ignorant in the art of managing the torpedo-boat, we shall be equally useless, and, in case of an accident, his strength and my weakness will be found to be two quantities, not equal, but equivalent.”

“That is all very well, but it is mere cavilling, or I am much mistaken,” said Madame Caoudal, much displeased. “But tell me, mademoiselle, do you think it would be a proper thing for you to travel alone, without a chaperone?”

“Without a chaperone, but not without protection,” replied Hélène, with a frank look that went straight to the doctor’s heart. “And I ask you who could serve me as chaperone in this adventure? Old nurse, or your maid, or any other dignitary of your household? I think they would cut but a poor figure; and it would be better for me to go as a body-guard to the doctor, who, by the way, has said nothing by way of suggestion, and who appears to receive without enthusiasm the idea of having me as travelling companion.”

The doctor was thrown into considerable perplexity by this unexpected thrust, and couldn’t help laughing inwardly at the recollection that it was on purpose to get away from Hélène that he had hastened his decision. He did not, however, defend himself from the accusation that she had launched at him.