The Crystal City Under the Sea (26 page)

Gathering the roses.

handed her the last flower,. she retired to the place where Madame Caoudal was standing’, her face buried in her handkerchief, quietly weeping. René came forward to Atlantis, who was standing at Charicles’s right hand; the doctor took the dying man’s hand to feel the last feeble pulsations. Suddenly, Charicles opened his eyes; met those of Atlantis intently fixed on him; one peaceful smile, and the eyelids drooped.

“All is over!” said the doctor, in a stifled voice. Some minutes of deep and solemn silence followed; each felt the same mysterious awe in the presence of the relentless visitor. Atlantis was the first to shake off the feeling of stupor. Disengaging her hand from that of Rent’s, who manifested his pity by a fraternal pressure, she left the side of the couch, and, taking down the golden harp, she came and took up her place once more, opposite to her father’s resting-place. For an instant she waited with bowed head, in a pose of inexpressible grace, gathering her thoughts together. Then her fingers wandered over the strings, drawing from them a few hesitating sounds. At last she raised her head, and her pure voice uttered musical phrases now definite and clear. In simple words she sang of the glory and the great doings of the departed members of her house; she recounted the long prosperity of the Atlantes, then of the scourge that had fallen on them; of her mother, gathered in the flower of her age; of her deserted cradle, and of the old man and the child alone remaining of the illustrious race. Then she told the story of Charicles, of his knowledge, virtue, and power, and lastly of his death, as august and noble as his life.

Behold, now he has departed! His spirit already wanders on the mysterious border-land of the shades. Already, doubtless, his ancestors have received and saluted him, the last scion of their race-For her, the flower, cut off from this ancient tree, another destiny is in store. Henceforth she will observe other rites, will obey other laws, will have another country. But she accepts them joyfully, for she follows her spouse, by her father’s command.

All this was sung in a sweet, low voice, by the young Melpomene; it was nothing resembling the music of the future, it was that of the past. She struck a final chord and ceased, letting the lyre fall from her. The last duties had been fulfilled. Charicles had been obeyed to the letter. The hour had come to leave. René and Patrice exchanged a look which meant that the departure had better be hastened. Lost in contemplation, Atlantis seemed to see nothing of what was going on around her, René took the lyre gently from her, hung it on the wall, and, taking her to the bedside, allowed her to kiss the white hand. Then he authoritatively took her hand in his own and turned towards the point from which they were to start. She obeyed him unhesitatingly. Exactly one hour after Charicles had breathed his last sigh, the travellers entered the tunnel.

CHAPTER XXII
THE RETURN TO THE LIGHT OF DAY. CONCLUSION.

T
HE floor of the tunnel was, as Charicles had said, covered with fine yellow sand, as soft as velvet to the feet. The walls, as high as the path was broad, were tapestried with creeping plants, which Hélène would fain have stopped to admire, but René and Patrice, vaguely anxious to get safely to the entrance of the cave at the other end, allowed no one to loiter for a minute. According to the instructions they had received, they turned on the electric light, which lit up the passage as far as the eye could see. They pursued their way in silence, at first. Each felt under the influence of the scene through which he had passed. They were haunted by the picture of the old man lying forever on his solitary purple couch.

Atlantis walked along with the light step of a young goddess, mute, and with a cloud of sadness on her sweet face; her large eyes, oblivious of all around her, seemed fixed on a vision called up by her own thoughts. Doubtless, they went back to her past life, forever closed to her. She saw once more the austere but tender parent who had guided her, step by step, and whom she had just left forever. On the threshold of her new life, she shrank, for a moment, from the strangeness of it all, and bid a long farewell to all that she had known and loved. Her innocent heart registered a vow to gain the affection of her new kin, to become, indeed, Hélène’s sister and Madame Caoudal’s daughter.

Hélène, respecting her silent grief, walked by her side, with their arms interlaced. They understood each other without the need of words; and when the tears, which had

In the tunnel

slowly gathered in Atlantis’s eyes, fell and obscured her view, Hélène, by a tender pressure of her arm, made her feel that, if she had lost. a father, she had gained a sister. Atlantis then turned to her with a loving look, and every mute caress increased the affection which, by the happy privilege of their age, they had formed for one another at first sight.

Madame Caoudal followed them, between Patrice and René, and behind them came Monte Cristo majestically, escorted by Sacripanti.

Kermadec brought up the rear, whistling softly a Breton air, and thinking what a long story he should have to tell his countrymen when he found himself once more on the deck of the vessel. They proceeded thus, without stopping, and almost in silence, for about two hours, when Patrice concluded that they must have got half way through. He was confirmed in his conjecture by observing that the arched roof, rising abruptly to a higher level, formed a sort of rotunda in which the moss-covered walls surrounded a stone table. It looked like the place for a halt. Madame Caoudal, notwithstanding her ardent desire to see the sunshine again, began to show signs of fatigue. They decided, therefore, to allow themselves a short time for rest, so that they might finish their journey at a quicker pace. Ker-\madec, in a twinkling, had spread the softest of the tapestries he carried on the stone seats round the table, and begged the ladies to be seated.

Madame Caoudal did not need a second invitation to comply; she was even seen — a rare thing with her—to lean back against the wall. For Madame Caoudal had been brought up by a strict mother, and was in the habit of holding herself as straight as the letter I when she sat. She often deplored the self-indulgent and bad manners of modern times. Nothing, she thought, could be worse form than for a young man or a young woman calmly to seat himself or herself in an easy chair. And she had a perfect horror of padded furniture; too comfortable, in her opinion, and she often said, drawing up her slight figure, that if her mother and grandmother, who both lived to be over eighty, had “kept their shape” to the last, it was owing to their way of carrying themselves. Truth to say, the unconscious dignity of Atlantis’s bearing had from the first prejudiced her in her favour, and it is certain that a sea-nymph who had not carried her head well, or had been the unfortunate possessor of round shoulders, or had received her visitor in an unceremonious manner, would have had a small chance of finding favour with her.

“We are not badly off here,” said Madame Caoudal, not concealing her satisfaction; “but I confess I begin to feel hungry. I really think I could eat something, though I consider it a bad habit to eat between meals.”

“One minute,” said Kermadec, briskly. “You don’t catch my father’s son setting out on a journey without provisions. The storeroom down there was well provided with them, and see, I have profited by that.”

So saying, Kermadec opened a large linen bag which he carried in his belt, and which he had filled as full as it could hold with some mysterious contents, all knobs and lumps. He drew from it, one after another, three bottles of rare old wine, small rolls of bread of a curious shape, dried sweets, dried fruit, and several tablets of cocoa, which the Atlantes, it appeared, had discovered long before the Spaniards.

“By my faith!” said that thoughtful and very useful person, “ I have brought the best that I could find.”

“And the best is excellent,” said Madame Caoudal, tasting some exquisite fruit, resembling a peach. “Really, one wouldn’t object to being a vegetarian if one could always get such food as this.”

“On my honour, madame, saving your honour’s presence, I would much sooner have a simple beefsteak,” said Kermadec; “but this is not to be despised, all the same.”

“ Come, come; you prefer it to salt beef,” said René, knowing the horror sailors have of the preserved beef, which is the chief part of their daily rations.

“Salt beef? pah! I want none of that,” said Kermadec, in disgust. “Well, yes, I prefer this.”

And a roll covered with a thick layer of preserved fruit disappeared between his lips in proof of his words. Hélène succeeded in persuading Atlantis, though as a rule she drank nothing but water, to sip a little wine, and she delicately peeled a magnificent plum of a velvety blue-black kind; but, abstemious as a little bird, she had quickly finished her meal. Hélène also was just rising from hers, and, seeing her unoccupied, Patrice rose, and, turning towards the passage through the tunnel, said:

“Hélène, come and look at this curious plant.” Hélène meekly followed him. Madame Caoudal and René were engrossed with Atlantis, whom they were trying to cheer. Monte Cristo, Sacripanti, and Kermadec were “making short work,” as the sailor expressed it, of the three bottles of wine, which were quickly emptied. Nobody took any notice of them.

“René has become engaged, at last,” said Patrice, as soon as they were out of hearing. “Lucky fellow!”

“Are you jealous?” said Mademoiselle Rieux, not without a touch of malice. “ Poor Stephen! Have you had views with respect to Atlantis, like our dear prince?”

“With respect to Atlantis? Do you believe that for a moment, Hélène?”

“How do I know?” said the young girl, with a laugh to hide her embarrassment. “ These plants are indeed very curious. Couldn’t we take some specimens away with us?”

“Never mind the plants, Hélène,” said Patrice, taking both her hands in his. “ It was not for that I brought you here.”

“Why, then, in heaven’s name?”

“To ask you a question on which the happiness of my life depends. To know whether it will be better for me to remain buried down here than to return to the land of the living, if I am to vegetate there without you! To ask you, Hélène, if you can love me well enough to be my wife.”

Hélène raised her eyes to his with a serious, trustful look. “Yes, Stephen,” replied she, simply. “I will be your wife when you wish it.”

And Patrice, deeply moved, his eyes wet with tears, pressed her hands to his lips.

“I have only one thing to reproach you with,” continued she, smiling, “and that is to have waited for Charicles to enable you to speak to me. Oh, for shame! for shame! Do you really believe that I needed his collection of antique coins to accept you gladly?”

“You, certainly not!” cried the young doctor, with fervour. “Still, I should not have ventured to speak, but for that. Now, that the dear old man has broken down every obstacle,—forgive me, but without suitable means of providing for you, I should not have asked you.”

“ Do you know, you are by no means flattering,” said the girl, in a tone of banter, “I must be either very ugly or very disagreeable for you to think that my miserable fortune could stand in the way.”

“You foolish girl! Ah! if I could have ruined you at a blow! reduced you to beggary,—what a dear little beggar you would have been!”

”Thank you, for your kind wishes,” cried Hélène, with a hearty laugh. “Then, if you had been rich, and I poor, you would not have despised me?”

“Do not say such a thing, even in joke.”

“Why, then, do you give me credit for sentiments more vile than your own?” cried she, triumphantly. “ No, no, I must scold you. I have fretted in silence long enough! If you only knew the number of times I have almost told you so! I see now that—I was not absolutely odious to you— but, because of that abominable money, you thought it necessary to fly away from me—yes, it is true— to run away from me! No; mundane conventionalities now and then are too stupid for anything!”

“Listen, Hélène,” interrupted Patrice, “not so stupid, after all! That I, a man in the prime of life, a hundred times better equipped, a hundred better instructed than you, you poor little thing,—”

“Thanks again, sir!” replied Hélène, laughing, and making a little courtesy.

“Yes, I mean what I say, and you know what I mean! That I, I say, should accept a place as invited guest in your house, and have allowed you to provide for me out of your abundance, would have been a state of things entirely out of the question. You must admit that!”

“All I know is, that I approve of you just as you are,” confessed Hélène, with a sweet look. “But, indeed, you have often made me very angry!”

“René, René, what can have become of your cousin?” they heard Madame Caoudal exclaim in alarm.

“Not far off, mother; Patrice is taking care of her,” replied he, ingenuously.

“Indeed, I have acted very inconsiderately,” said Patrice. “Let us go and beg of your aunt to accept me as a nephew,” and he took Hélène’s hand and placed it proudly on his arm.

“Do you think,” continued he, in a low voice, “that but for Charicles I could have offered myself to you with such a light heart? I know that in your opinion these considerations are of no importance. But all the same, I feel deeply grateful, and shall never cease to feel grateful, to the fine old patriarch for the help he gave me!”