Chapter 26

CHAPTER XXVI.

THE WORST PERIL OF ALL

It must be confessed that hitherto things had not gone on so badly,and that I had small reason to complain. If our difficulties becameno worse, we might hope to reach our end. And to what a height ofscientific glory we should then attain! I had become quite aLiedenbrock in my reasonings; seriously I had. But would this stateof things last in the strange place we had come to? Perhaps it might.

For several days steeper inclines, some even frightfully near to theperpendicular, brought us deeper and deeper into the mass of theinterior of the earth. Some days we advanced nearer to the centre bya league and a half, or nearly two leagues. These were perilousdescents, in which the skill and marvellous coolness of Hans wereinvaluable to us. That unimpassioned Icelander devoted himself withincomprehensible deliberation; and, thanks to him, we crossed many adangerous spot which we should never have cleared alone.

But his habit of silence gained upon him day by day, and wasinfecting us. External objects produce decided effects upon thebrain. A man shut up between four walls soon loses the power toassociate words and ideas together. How many prisoners in solitaryconfinement become idiots, if not mad, for want of exercise for thethinking faculty!

During the fortnight following our last conversation, no incidentoccurred worthy of being recorded. But I have good reason forremembering one very serious event which took place at this time, andof which I could scarcely now forget the smallest details.

By the 7th of August our successive descents had brought us to adepth of thirty leagues; that is, that for a space of thirty leaguesthere were over our heads solid beds of rock, ocean, continents, andtowns. We must have been two hundred leagues from Iceland.

On that day the tunnel went down a gentle slope. I was ahead of theothers. My uncle was carrying one of Ruhmkorff's lamps and I the.other. I was examining the beds of granite.

Suddenly turning round I observed that I was alone.

Well, well, I thought; I have been going too fast, or Hans and myuncle have stopped on the way. Come, this won't do; I must join them.Fortunately there is not much of an ascent.

I retraced my steps. I walked for a quarter of an hour. I gazed intothe darkness. I shouted. No reply: my voice was lost in the midst ofthe cavernous echoes which alone replied to my call.

I began to feel uneasy. A shudder ran through me.

"Calmly!" I said aloud to myself, "I am sure to find my companionsagain. There are not two roads. I was too far ahead. I will return!"

For half an hour I climbed up. I listened for a call, and in thatdense atmosphere a voice could reach very far. But there was a drearysilence in all that long gallery. I stopped. I could not believe thatI was lost. I was only bewildered for a time, not lost. I was sure