Chapter 5

CHAPTER V.

FAMINE, THEN VICTORY, FOLLOWED BY DISMAY

I had only just time to replace the unfortunate document upon thetable.

Professor Liedenbrock seemed to be greatly abstracted.

The ruling thought gave him no rest. Evidently he had gone deeplyinto the matter, analytically and with profound scrutiny. He hadbrought all the resources of his mind to bear upon it during hiswalk, and he had come back to apply some new combination.

He sat in his armchair, and pen in hand he began what looked verymuch like algebraic formula: I followed with my eyes his tremblinghands, I took count of every movement. Might not some unhoped-forresult come of it? I trembled, too, very unnecessarily, since thetrue key was in my hands, and no other would open the secret.

For three long hours my uncle worked on without a word, withoutlifting his head; rubbing out, beginning again, then rubbing outagain, and so on a hundred times.

I knew very well that if he succeeded in setting down these lettersin every possible relative position, the sentence would come out. ButI knew also that twenty letters alone could form two quintillions,four hundred and thirty-two quadrillions, nine hundred and twotrillions, eight billions, a hundred and seventy-six millions, sixhundred and forty thousand combinations. Now, here were a hundred andthirty-two letters in this sentence, and these hundred and thirty-twoletters would give a number of different sentences, each made up ofat least a hundred and thirty-three figures, a number which passedfar beyond all calculation or conception.

So I felt reassured as far as regarded this heroic method of solvingthe difficulty.

But time was passing away; night came on; the street noises ceased;my uncle, bending over his task, noticed nothing, not even Marthahalf opening the door; he heard not a sound, not even that excellentwoman saying:

"Will not monsieur take any supper to-night?"

And poor Martha had to go away unanswered. As for me, after longresistance, I was overcome by sleep, and fell off at the end of thesofa, while uncle Liedenbrock went on calculating and rubbing out hiscalculations.

When I awoke next morning that indefatigable worker was still at hispost. His red eyes, his pale complexion, his hair tangled between hisfeverish fingers, the red spots on his cheeks, revealed his desperatestruggle with impossibilities, and the weariness of spirit, themental wrestlings he must have undergone all through that unhappynight.

To tell the plain truth, I pitied him. In spite of the reproacheswhich I considered I had a right to lay upon him, a certain feelingof compassion was beginning to gain upon me. The poor man was soentirely taken up with his one idea that he had even forgotten how toget angry. All the strength of his feelings was concentrated upon onepoint alone; and as their usual vent was closed, it was to be