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19 - The Western Gallery - A New Route - Journey to the Center of the Earth - Jules Verne · Science Fiction Books

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  Speaker 1: Chapter nineteen, the western gallery a new route. Our descent
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  Speaker 1: was now resumed by means of the second gallery. Hans
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  Speaker 1: took up his post in front as usual. We had
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  Speaker 1: not gone more than a hundred yards when the professor
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  Speaker 1: carefully examined the walls. This is the primitive formation. We
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  Speaker 1: are on the right road.
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  Speaker 2: Onwards is our hope. When the whole earth got cool
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  Speaker 2: in the first hours of the world's morning, the diminution
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  Speaker 2: of the volume of the earth produced a state of
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  Speaker 2: dislocation in its upper crust, followed by ruptures, crevices, and fissures.
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  Speaker 2: The passage was a fissure of this kind through which
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  Speaker 2: ages ago had flowed the eruptive granite. The thousand windings
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  Speaker 2: and turnings formed an inextricable labyrinth through the ancient soil.
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  Speaker 2: As we descended, successions of layers composing the primitive soil
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  Speaker 2: appeared with the utmost fidelity of detail. Geological science considers
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  Speaker 2: this primitive soil as the base of the mineral crust,
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  Speaker 2: and it has recognizes that it is composed of three
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  Speaker 2: different strata or layers, or resting on the immovable rock
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  Speaker 2: known as granite. No mineralogists had even found themselves placed
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  Speaker 2: in such a marvelous position to study nature in all
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  Speaker 2: a real and naked beauty. The sounding rod, a mere machine,
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  Speaker 2: could not bring to the surface of the Earth the
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  Speaker 2: objects of value for the study of its internal structure,
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  Speaker 2: which we were about to see with our own eyes,
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  Speaker 2: to touch with our own hands. Remember that I am
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  Speaker 2: writing this after the journey across the streak of the rocks,
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  Speaker 2: colored by beautiful green tins, wound metallic threads of copper,
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  Speaker 2: of manganese, with traces of platinum and gold. I could
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  Speaker 2: not help gazing at these riches buried in the entrails
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  Speaker 2: of Mother Earth, and of which no man would have
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  Speaker 2: the enjoyment to the end of time. These treasures, mighty
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  Speaker 2: and inexhaustible, were buried in the morning of the Earth's history,
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  Speaker 2: at such awful depths that no crowbar or pickaxe will
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  Speaker 2: ever drag them from their tomb. The light of our
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  Speaker 2: Ruhmkorff's coil increased tenfold by the myriad of prismatic masses
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  Speaker 2: of rock, sent its yets of fire in every direction,
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  Speaker 2: and I could fancy myself traveling through a huge hollow diamond,
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  Speaker 2: the rays of which produced myriads of extraordinary effects. Towards
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  Speaker 2: six o'clock, this festival of light began sensibly and visibly
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  Speaker 2: to decrease, and soon almost ceased. The sights of the
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  Speaker 2: gallery assumed a crystallized tint with a somber yew. White
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  Speaker 2: mica began to commingle more freely with feldspar and quartz
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  Speaker 2: to form what may be called the true rock, the
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  Speaker 2: stone which is hard above all that supports without being crushed,
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  Speaker 2: the four stories of the earth's soil. We were walled
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  Speaker 2: by an immense prison of granite. It was now eight o'clock,
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  Speaker 2: and still there was no sign of water. The sufferings
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  Speaker 2: I endured were horrible. My uncle now kept at the
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  Speaker 2: head of our little column. Nothing could induce him to stop.
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  Speaker 2: I meanwhile had but one real thought. My ear was
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  Speaker 2: keenly on the watch to catch the sound of a spring.
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  Speaker 2: But no pleasant sound of falling water fell upon my
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  Speaker 2: listening air. But at last the time came when my
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  Speaker 2: limbs refused to carry me longer. I contended heroically against
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  Speaker 2: the terrible.
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  Speaker 1: Tortures I endured. Because I did not wish to compel
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  Speaker 1: my uncle to hold to him. I knew this would
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  Speaker 1: be the last fatal stroke. Suddenly I felt a deadly
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  Speaker 1: faintness come over me. My eyes could no longer see.
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  Speaker 1: My knees shook. I gave one despairing cry and fell Hell, Help,
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  Speaker 1: I am dying. My uncle turned and slowly retraced his steps.
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  Speaker 1: He looked at me with folded arms, and then allowed
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  Speaker 1: one sentence to escape in hollow accents from his lips.
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  Speaker 1: All is over. The last thing I saw was a
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  Speaker 1: face fearfully distorted with pain and sorrow, and then my
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  Speaker 1: eyes closed. When I again opened them, I saw my
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  Speaker 1: companions lying near me, motionless, wrapped in their huge traveling rugs.
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  Speaker 1: Were they asleep or dead? For myself, sleep was fully
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  Speaker 1: out of the question, my fainting feet over. I was
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  Speaker 1: wakeful as the lark. I suffered too much for sleep
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  Speaker 1: to visit my eyelids. The more that I thought myself
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  Speaker 1: sick unto death dying. The last words spoken by my
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  Speaker 1: uncle seemed to be buzzing in my ears. All is over,
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  Speaker 1: and it was probable that he was right. In the
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  Speaker 1: state of prostration to which I was reduced, it was
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  Speaker 1: madness to think of ever again seeing the light of day.
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  Speaker 1: Above were miles upon miles of the earth's crust. As
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  Speaker 1: I thought of it, I could fancy the whole weight
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  Speaker 1: resting on my shoulders. I was crushed, annihilated, and exhausted
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  Speaker 1: myself in vain attempts to turn in my granite bed.
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  Speaker 1: Hours upon hours passed away. A profound and terrible silence
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  Speaker 1: reigned around us, a silence of the tomb. Nothing could
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  Speaker 1: make itself heard through these gigantic walls of granite. The
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  Speaker 1: very thought was stupendous. Presently, despite my apathy, despite the
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  Speaker 1: kind of deadly calm into which I was cast, something
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  Speaker 1: aroused me. It was a slight but peculiar noise. While
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  Speaker 1: I was watching intently, I observed that the tunnel was
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  Speaker 1: becoming dark. Then, gazing through the dim light that remained,
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  Speaker 1: I thought I saw the eye slender, taking his departure
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  Speaker 1: lamp in hand. Why had he acted thus? Did Hans
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  Speaker 1: the Guide mean to abandon us? My uncle lay fast,
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  Speaker 1: asleep or dead. I tried to cry out and arouse him.
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  Speaker 1: My voice, feebly assumed from my parched and fevered lips,
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  Speaker 1: found no echo in that fearful place. My throat was dry,
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  Speaker 1: my tongue stuck to the root of my mouth. The
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  Speaker 1: obscurity had by this time become intense, and at last
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  Speaker 1: even the faint sound of the guide's footsteps was lost
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  Speaker 1: in the blank distance. My soul seemed filled with anguish,
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  Speaker 1: and death appeared welcome. Only let it come quickly. Hans
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  Speaker 1: is leaving us, I cried, Hans, Hans, if you are
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  Speaker 1: a man, come aark. These words were spoken to myself.
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  Speaker 1: They could not be heard aloud. Nevertheless, after the first
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  Speaker 1: moments of terror were over, I was ashamed of my
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  Speaker 1: suspicions against a man who hitherto had behaved so admirably.
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  Speaker 1: Nothing in his conduct or character justified suspicion. Moreover, a
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  Speaker 1: moment's reflection reassured me his departure could not be a flight.
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  Speaker 1: Instead of ascending the gallery, he was going deeper down
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  Speaker 1: into the gulf. Had he had any bad design, his
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  Speaker 1: way would have been upwards. This reasoning calmed me a little,
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  Speaker 1: and I began to hope the good and peaceful and
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  Speaker 1: imperturbable hands would certainly not have arisen from his sleep
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  Speaker 1: without some serious and grave motive. Was he bent on
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  Speaker 1: the voyage of discovery during the deep still silence of
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  Speaker 1: the night. Had he at last heard that sweet murmur
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  Speaker 1: about which we were all so anxious. End of Chapter nineteen,