The Crystal City Under the Sea (15 page)

“You can hardly be aware,” said he, calmly, “how far I should be from thinking of taking you, having come for the express purpose of telling you my plans.”

Hélène was far too penetrating not to divine, at least partly, what was hidden in this apparent incivility. “I will believe all you could wish on that score,” said she, with equal calmness;” but since you have anticipated my request, I ask you, will you take me?”

“With great pleasure, if Madame Caoudal wishes it.”

“My dear children, what are you thinking of?” put in the elder lady. “Do you believe, in good faith, that I could consent to Such folly? I will never let Hélène go out of my care, never, — except in the case of some one stronger than I taking her away,” she added, smiling. Then, resuming a serious, not to say severe, tone:

“Doctor, I am surprised that you should entertain for one moment anything so unreasonable!”

“He certainly has not given much encouragement in it, I must do him justice in that,” said Hélène, while Patrice scolded himself for the disappointment he felt, forcing himself, as usual, to reveal nothing of his feelings.

“Oh, dear auntie, good auntie,” Continued Hélène, now in tears, and burying her face in her hands, “please do not speak so decidedly! My heart will break if you refuse me.”

“Hélène, I hardly know you,” said Madame Caoudal, reproachfully. “You, who have always been my strength and support; one would think you were a spoilt child, crying for the moon! It is only an hour since you learned of the existence of this wonderful place, and here you are in despair because the entrance to it is refused you! I repeat, I do not recognize my sensible, reasonable Hélène!”

“Ah, my dear aunt,” burst forth Hélène, “it is not the dream of an hour, it is the dream of my whole life, that I thought I had realized! I am a born sailor, you know that well! I am always hearing the clamour of the waves which rocked my father and grandfather, and I am always homesick for the sea. With what regret, what bitter mortification, did I see René depart and leave me on shore! Till then I had hoped that I might one day go on one of those beautiful, free, stirring voyages. Do not think that I am ungrateful to those who love me. Is René the less your son, and a good son, because he loves the sea? Is he less perfect,—as a friend? But why should I need to plead with you, who know me so well? You know us both; and, as the daughter of sea-going people, I have been marked with their seal, I am always irresistibly drawn to everything belonging to them, their dangers and their triumphs. I can truly say that I have lived with René in this audacious adventure of his; he has confided to me all his anxieties, his hopes, and his sudden turns of fortune; and if he had not, I verily believe I should have guessed them, I have so much identified myself with his life. Just now, when the doctor told us that he intended to go to him, I. felt such an irresistible longing to follow that it seemed as if my wish was to be granted. Aunt Alice, dear auntie, do not refuse me!”

“My dear child,” replied Madame Caoudal, irresolute, and quite overcome, “what can I say to you? —Stephen, come to my help.”

The doctor was pacing the room, he, too, much moved at Hone’s pleading, and beginning to think that what she longed for so ardently might, after all, be right and feasible.

“What can I say, madame,” said he, pausing in front of her, “and how can I attack the question unarmed? In order to help you, as you ask me, it is necessary to be convinced that Mademoiselle Hélène’s project is out of the question.”

“What! You, also?” ejaculated Madame Caoudal, dumbfounded, “this must be a conspiracy?”

“Not in the least,” said the doctor. “A moment ago, I was as far as you from admitting the possibility of a delicate young girl, or even a man of doubtful courage, embarking on such a hazardous enterprise. I had almost come to take credit to myself for courage,” he said, frankly, “for an act, so natural, and with so little of the heroic about it, of setting foot on board a vessel so admirably equipped in every way, and allowing myself to be taken, without a hitch or a jar of any kind, towards a region that would tempt the most blasé traveller. Everything outside the usual routine of life is apt to astonish us; but Mademoiselle Hélène’s absolute confidence and absence of hesitation has opened my eyes. In this torpedo-boat, constructed under the direction of a mind of the first order, we should be really safer than even here, under a roof built by an ignorant architect, and of whose stability we know nothing; while of René’s movable house, which is perfection of its kind, we know everything. In short, madame. Mademoiselle Hélène’s argument, urged just now partly in joke, has a good deal in it. Be very sure of one thing, that since René has asked me to go to him in his boat, he has satisfied himself, at the risk of his life, that there will be no danger for other people.”

“Oh, doctor!” cried Hélène, delighted, “how true all that isl You are good! How much I thank you!”

“I see the force of what you say,” said Madame Caoudal, “but still there remains the question of the propriety of the thing—of etiquette, if you will. Hélène cannot go alone with you.”

“Oh, Aunt Alice’” cried Hélène, “that tiresome etiquette! What English or American girl would hesitate to do it? and small blame to her, either.”

“The English and Americans have their manners and we have ours,” said Madame Caoudal. “Far be it from me to blame any young girls who conform straightforwardly, and with their parents’ consent, to the established customs of their own countries. But it never does for any one, least of all a woman, to go against the established code of society. I would not take the responsibility of it, in any case, my dear little woman, though it cost me the pain of saying ‘No’ to you.”

Hélène sat thoughtful for a minute. “Why shouldn’t you come with us?” she said, suddenly.

“I? What nonsense! “

“Why not?” said Hélène, simply. “Don’t you want to go?”

“Want to go, little puss! You seem to think it very easy for one to do what one wants, in this world.”

“One can, if one puts one’s will to it,” said Hélène, with a quick movement of her pretty head, -and if what one wants is good and legitimate in itself. Now, see, auntie, dear, you are convinced that the expedition has no serious danger attached to it, since, but for the sake of appearances, you would let me undertake it; and, what you do not fear for me, you would be a thousand times less likely to fear for yourself. And think of it, dearest, the decision once arrived at, the first step taken, all would be perfectly easy, and, in five or six days, or so, you would see your René, and clasp him in your arms.”

“Ah, my child, what are you saying to me. It is too beautiful,” cried the mother, trembling. “Stephen, is it possible, or are we all losing our senses?”

“ No, dear lady. It is only that we have to get accustomed to any idea, the novelty of which has confounded us. Mademoiselle Hélène is quite right. She has hit upon the right thing.”

“The idea of setting out on such an adventure at my age!”

“Your age!” said Hélène, indignantly. “Your age is nothing, unless it be that of the most charming woman in France.”

“Very good,” said Madame Caoudal, laughing. “The truth is I am perfectly strong; and I feel sure you would have no difficulty on my account; but still—”

“Let us go and have a look at the Titania, will you?” interrupted the doctor; “perhaps the examination of it would decide you.”

“That is a good idea,” cried the lady, who, having once entertained the idea of seeing her son in a few days, was now easy to convince.” They set out in high spirits, and drove to the little creek where the boat was moored. Its interior was passed in review. As has been said, it was most comfortable, and capable of accommodating six people. Their admiration of this chef-d’oeuvre which did so much honour to René’s inventive genius was unstinted. Madame Caoudal, who was now keener than any one to get matters settled, declared that there would be nothing absurd in taking a voyage in such a vessel. In a few hours, the light luggage of the travellers was packed, and put on board. They all agreed that there would be nothing gained by telling any one the secret of the expedition.

Kermadec, never surprised at anything-, saw the ladies arrive with perfect serenity. As soon as they had installed themselves, the doctor gave the signal to start, and the Titania was headed for the Azores.

CHAPTER XIV
CHARICLES AND RENÉ.

M
EANWHILE, the venerable Charicles was still lying motionless on his couch in the crystal mansion, the consequence of the sudden attack which had prostrated him on René’s arrival. The indefatigable young people by his side eagerly endeavoured by the most affectionate care to restore him to health,—Atlantis, for the love she bore him, and René, it must be confessed, on her account. And, yet, it was not solely for her sake, after all; this grand old man, so majestic, so mysterious, interested him. He had wished to sound the secret of his existence, to see the mute lips unseal themselves and reveal to him the strange recollections that must be hidden by the massive brow and the commanding gray eyes of which he had sometimes a momentary glimpse. And then, besides the natural curiosity of any one who might have found himself in the position of the young officer, a real sympathy for the invalid awoke in him.

“After all,” thought René, “one should put oneself in the old man’s place, and if he elected to plant his dwelling at the bottom of the sea, it must have been because he did not wish to be intruded upon. And here I am, dropped from the sky into his retreat; I have established myself here, making myself as much at home as if I were in my own house, and taking the care of him upon myself. All that is enough to exasperate him, I must confess. I must seem to him like a meddlesome intruder, to whom he would like to show the door. And yet, on the other hand, how could I leave this young girl in the sole charge of him? Would she wish it? I doubt it; she must prefer to have some one to help her in such trying circumstances. Well, I believe I am right in running the risk, and I shall stay. He may turn me out when he recovers—if he dares!”

While René reasoned thus, still unremitting in his attentions, Charicles hardly took his eyes off him. This penetrating, severe, scrutinizing look remained fixed on the frank and open face of the young man, seeming, apparently, to mark its most fleeting expression. For five days and nights he studied thus the face of his improvised Aesculapius, and certainly, if René had not had a very clear conscience, he must have been tired of this persistent observation. But, thanks to his happy disposition and the perfect purity of his motives, he showed no impatience, and continued to show him such .chivalrous devotion that, at last, the old man’s choler seemed somewhat appeased.

One evening, when René and Atlantis had been for some time endeavouring to prepare a lotion by the help of which they might bring back animation to his rigid limbs, and René had been rubbing him for an hour, he suddenly had the unexpected pleasure and satisfaction of seeing a softened light in his patient’s eyes. He looked towards Atlantis, and, opening his lips with difficulty, said painfully, but distinctly, in his archaic Greek:

“This stranger cares for me like a son.”

René coloured with pleasure.

“Bravo!” cried he. “You can speak. You are feeling stronger. Now we shall have you well in no time. Mademoiselle Atlantis, I congratulate you upon the result of your good nursing. Your father will be on his feet again in a few hours, on the faith of René Caoudal.”

At the sound of her father’s voice, Atlantis rose to her feet, blushing with happiness. She threw herself into his arms, uttering a torrent of sweet and harmonious exclamations. René decided that Greek was certainly the most beautiful language in the world.

When the first flutter of agitation had subsided, Charicles’s wrinkled brow became smooth; so sweet it is to feel oneself loved, even if one be a venerable Triton. He gave them to understand that for several days he had felt the power of speech coming back, but he had waited to be quite sure, for fear of raising false hopes. And now, having thoroughly studied René during the long speechless hours, he was convinced that he had to do with a worthy youth, whose heart was frank and pure, and, in order to prove the confidence he felt in him, he would tell him of a powerful philtre, which would accelerate the cure.

Atlantis flew to stir the flame under a gold tripod near by, and René measured, mixed, and shook a compound of a bitter taste and indescribable odour, which the old man swallowed at one draught, murmuring an invocation in a language which sounded to René even more archaic than that which he had used just before in speaking to them. This done, the old man sank back upon the gold-embroidered cushion, and remained perfectly rigid for an hour, his long white robes looking more like a winding-sheet than anything else. At the end of that time, he signified by an imperious gesture to René, who was waiting beside him, that he wished for another dose.

During the night, which René and Atlantis spent at his side, he continually asked for his philtre, for which René was very sorry, as he found that the flavour of it was more and more nauseous. And alas! their hopes of a speedy recovery were disappointed. Atlantis understood nothing about it. At first, when the old man expressed a wish to take it, she clapped her hands with joy.,

“The potion of the ancients!” she cried, with her clear voice. “That will cure you, dear father; it will bring back your strength, and renew in you the fire of youth!”

Convinced that in a few hours he would be quite restored, she was the more cast down at seeing him so inert, his “eyebrows so contracted, and the distressed look in his eyes, while his panting breathing hardly stirred the silky waves of his white beard.

“He is no better,” said the poor, desolate Undine, raising her clear blue eyes towards René.

“I must have made some mistake in mixing the medicine,” replied René, baffled; “or perhaps the ingredients were stale, and had lost their virtue; or perhaps they never were of any use for such a case.” Atlantis shook her head.

“Charicles chose well the elements for his potion; he is learned in this art, as in all others. But, if the gods do not wish to cure him, no philtre will have any power over the evil. May the immortals have pity on me, his unhappy child, if I am to see him expire, without being able to help him!”