The Crystal City Under the Sea (7 page)

“If you do that, I really must embrace you,” cried the prince, enthusiastically, foreseeing, already, the reports that would be addressed to the learned societies, and the interest that would be connected with his name. “If you succeed, upon my word! I would willingly give you a year or two’s revenue of my principality.”

“I would not ask for so much as that,” said René, laughingly; “only allow me to take my first journey in it alone, when it is completed, and to choose myself the site of my soundings, at least, to begin with.”

“Assuredly, my dear boy. You shall do just as you wish. When will it suit you to begin?”

“As soon as we set out.”

“Bravo! And you wish to sail towards —?”

“I particularly wish to explore the region of the Sargassian Sea. When we arrive at the point where 25° E. longitude crosses 36° N. latitude, we will make a halt, and proceed to sound.”

“Oh! Ah! You have decided ideas; that is clear. And what do you expect to discover at that exact spot? Plenty of driftwood, no doubt. What else?”

“Experience has taught me, indeed, that the sea is covered at that spot with a quantity of sea-wrack, which the savants call fucus natans, and our sailors, very aptly, tropical grapes, or gulf-wrack. It is a sea plant, the stalks of which terminate in watery bladders. But what does it matter? All that will only bore you, I fancy —”

“Indeed, your diving apparatus will disturb such a movable carpet. Well, sir, you have only to command. The library and the workmen are at your disposal, and I will at once give word as to our route.”

And the prince went off, leaving his guest in a high state of satisfaction as seeing himself on the way to find his mysterious Undine. And, as the yacht weighed anchor and set sail, the young officer shut himself up in the library, where, thanks to considerable ability in drawing, and with the help of the necessary technical books, Indian ink, coloured crayons, compass, and drawing-board, he soon produced (on paper at least) the apparatus of which he dreamed. He made more than twenty copies before succeeding to his satisfaction, and, at last, handed to the workmen a plan which seemed to him to unite all the wished-for conditions, and, under his directions, the work was carried out in the workshop.

The prince had not overrated the cleverness of his men. They were experienced, practical workmen, who were fully qualified to carry out difficult instructions. The diving apparatus designed by René was an immense circular chest, about seven hundred cubic feet in size, and, for ballast, was weighted at its base with rather more than two tons of lead. This base was furnished with steel braces, bound by strong bands of steel to suspension grapnels; and these, in their turn, were attached to tackle placed on either side of the vessel. A set of pulleys and the steam capstan ought to lower and raise the apparatus at will. The submersible chest or diving-bell, to give it a simpler name, was provided with windows and small port-holes of thick but perfectly transparent glass, which would allow a ray of electric light to shine in all directions, and light up the surrounding waters. The source of light was a movable lamp, hung from the ceiling, and fed for several hours by an accumulator. This accumulator was fixed in the framework of a soft sofa, which formed, with a work-table, two easy chairs, and an ordinary chair, the furniture of the cabin. Near to the sofa was concealed, at the bottom of a large china vase, a bottle with two small tubes, which emitted automatically a small quantity of oxygen, when the button setting it in motion was pressed.

Opposite to it, and under the cover of a second vase, was placed a metallic bath, which René, without saying anything to any one, reserved, to be filled with barytic water. It is well known that protoxyde of barytes or baryta, discovered by the German chemist, Scheele, has the remarkable property of absorbing, with extreme precision, the carbonic acid of the atmosphere. The young lieutenant was convinced that a bath of baryta, mixed at need with a slight addition of oxygen, ought to be sufficient to maintain for many hours the respirable properties of the seven hundred cubic feet of air, and experience would justify his theory.

Thus equipped, carefully varnished, and waxed, the submersible chamber had the appearance of a large and elegant officers’ cabin. It was made still more complete by four india-rubber bags symmetrically placed at the bottom, and rounded off, like the fingers of a glove; the bags would allow of a human hand, guided by the electric light, to feel and seize hold of specimens of gravel, sand, or submarine plants. Specimens picked up thus, and brought into the interior of the chamber, should surely have a better chance of arriving safe and sound at the surface than by the primitive method of laying a coat of grease on the traditional plummet.

Finally, in order to achieve the realization of the programme René had traced, a telephonic wire inclosed in a thick covering, like that of the suspending cable, kept the diver in constant communication with the chief mate, posted at the capstan. Any appeal could be immediately heard, every order executed without possibility of mistake. So that even if it should prove less manageable, and less sure than an ordinary apparatus, the new diving-bell would, in reality, be more supple and obedient than any previously in use.

Once begun, the work advanced with the greatest speed. René, giving himself up entirely to the work, showed an ardour which astonished and charmed his host. By nature and by training the prince was indisposed to work, or personal effort of any kind; and though, as a man desirous of being thought up to date, and with modern, enlightened views, he was ambitious of scientific laurels, it would never have entered his head to win them except by proxy. To toil and struggle in order to extort one revelation, more or less, from Nature, so tenacious of her secrets, was all very well for “ poor devils born and reared in the obscure multitude.” To employ the capital he hardly knew how to spend, in enterprises which would bring him honour without robbing him of one minute of his “far niente,” certainly!—but to give himself personally to it, that was quite another affair. So that he was greatly surprised to see René, at an age when one thinks more of amusement than of helping the world’s progress, handling plane and saw, like a workingman, plunging his hands without hesitation into pitch or nauseous glue, working away as if his daily bread depended on it. He enjoyed the novelty of it, and, won by the fire and activity of his young collaborator, he indulged the liveliest hope of seeing his name cited with eulogies by learned societies and venerated by future generations.

Meanwhile the yacht arrived at the quiet waters of the mysterious sea, and for the last eight hours they had contented themselves with tacking about, while the workmen put the last touches to their work. How often, leaning over the stern-railing, had René endeavoured to pierce the gray-green depths! Was it indeed here that this enigmatical creature breathed, whose clear voice still vibrated in the depths of his being? Was it here, under this sombre wall with its shining surface, under this formidable volume of dark waters, that the young fairy lived, moved, and thought?

At night an irresistible force would draw René out- from his cabin. He would lean his elbows on the rails, and, while the twinkling stars seemed to watch him, seek with greedy eyes to pierce the black waves often lit up with phosphorescent fires. Sometimes a ray of moonlight made him tremble! Was it she? Could it be her dazzling arms stretched out from the waters to beckon him?

One evening, towards midnight—was it a dream? was he asleep?—he thought he heard once more the song he never could forget. It was far, far away like the mournful cry of a bird gliding over the waters, fanned by the breeze. The impression was so strong that he sprang to his feet, and, with an irresistible impulse, responded by a musical phrase, a phrase thrown to the winds from his young warm voice, which sounded to him like a superhuman salutation. But no sound came back to him this time. Doubtless he had been deceived, or his dream had taken the vividness of reality. He struck his forehead, and asked himself if he were mad; and the movement brought his ring into view. No! he was not dreaming! No! he was not mad, since the ring was still on his finger. And, at the idea that this ring linked him to the marvellous Undine, that by this link he was forced to seek her and to find her, he felt capable of daring anything.

Ah! he knew now why Ulysses had sealed the ears of his companions, when passing near the Cape of the Sirens. He had experienced a like charm, and he who had once heard the magic singing must and would hear it again, if it cost him his life!

CHAPTER VII
THE JOURNAL OF A DIVER.

E
VERY time there was an opportunity, that is to say whenever a steamer passed the Cinderella, René availed himself of it to send word to “The Poplars” that he was in full health of mind and body. All his letters were finished off by the one word: Hope. Hélène knew its meaning and thrilled in sympathy with him. Madame Caoudal and Doctor Patrice each interpreted the words according to their respective hopes and fears, and followed up the wrong scent, ingenious, as usual, in creating numberless proofs in confirmation of their illusion. The good lady had chosen Stephen as the confidant of the projects which had previously been discouraged by the attitude of Helene and René; and now that she thought she saw the realization of her wishes, she felt triumphant, and could not refrain from speaking of her hopes, ten times a day at least, to the unfortunate doctor.

“Have you not remarked, doctor, how Helene has improved in appearance these last few weeks ?”

“It seems to me, madame, that she had nothing to gain in that respect,” declared Stephen, who had not waited till then to discover that she was the loveliest girl in the world.

“Yes, yes! But have n’t you noticed ? It dates from René’s terrible adventure. Really one might call it quite a providential accident.” “Rather a violent providence!”

“Ah, how should any one know that better than I ? But, however, now that all danger is over, one cannot but rejoice at the turn things have taken. The children were made for one another, any one can see that. It would be a sin to divide their property, too. Just think of it! Forty thousand acres held by one sole tenant! I have always considered that the property ought not to be divided. During the long minority of my two wards, I natter myself that I have managed it as well as most guardians.”

“Every one is agreed, madame, in recognizing the superiority of your administration.”

“Well, you know, Stephen, how cruelly disappointed I should be if my little Helene, brought up under my roof, whom I have cherished absolutely as if she were my daughter, were to leave; and that a stranger should take the first place in her affections.”

“Is not that the common lot ?”

“The common lot! It is very easy for you to say so t I should like to see you, when you have a daughter of your own! How would you like any one to have the audacity to ask you to give her up? Ah, I have had plenty of applications for her hand! But to come back to what we were talking about, it is all happily arranged now, and I am relieved!”

“You consider that René and Hélène have come to an understanding?”

“Have n’t you seen it? All the time my son was here they were inseparable. They always had something to say to each other; the most indifferent remarked it. Come, doctor, you must have perceived it like the rest?”

“A blind person might have seen it. They were, as you say, inseparable, but have they not always been so?”

“Ah! but it was much more so this time. And you, who are so observant, and have known them so long, it could not have escaped you. You have been here every time we have had news from René; well, each time she was radiant; that is the word, simply radiant!”

“So she was when her fiance went away,” said the doctor, thoughtfully, his natural penetration becoming clearer in spite of himself. Is not that a symptom contrary to your conviction?”

“Ah! you cannot understand people who are governed by a passion for the sea!” cried the lady, petulantly. “You did not know my sister-in-law. She had an heroic nature, capable of sacrificing her dearest and best without a murmur, in her country’s service. She has bequeathed her spirit—”

“There is the more merit in making similar sacrifices, when one has not that passion.”

“Oh, as for me, everybody knows that if I sacrifice myself, it is not without protestation!” said Madame Caoudal, laughing. “ I am not one of the race of stoics. But Hélène is one of those who could smile on the altar of sacrifice. But, joking apart, she is a generous and courageous soul, worthy to be the wife of my René.”

These conversations were repeated again and again. The excellent lady, thinking herself so perspicuous, was quite unaware of the amount of useless suffering she was inflicting on the unfortunate doctor in making him, perpetually, the confidant of her hopes. Others were less blind, and, if the doctor had overheard the confidential talk of two young girls, whose white dresses appeared and disappeared at the end of the lawn, between the great poplars, perhaps he would have carried a lighter heart back with him to his lonely home.

Hélène Rieux and Mademoiselle Luzan loved each other dearly, and, excepting the secrets that concerned other people, concealed nothing from each other.

The two girls looked charming under the summer sun, having, at the age of twenty, no fears for their healthy complexion from his rays, and presenting the traditional contrast of brunette and blonde, which, though it has long served to adorn the bindings of books and the lids of sweetmeat boxes, is none the less pleasant to look at. Bertha Luzan was tall and slender, with something noble and classical in her blue eyes, regular features, fair head, and statuesque arms. Hélène was dark, delicately formed, less tall, but equally graceful.

“There is that poor doctor going home, looking so melancholy,” said Bertha.

“Well, you don’t hold me responsible for that, do you?” said Hélène, rather impatiently, feeling as if a reproach underlay her friend’s words.

“Shall I say what I think? I do not recognize your usual generosity in your treatment of him.”