"Well, indeed, my worthy uncle, you are never at a loss for an answer."
I dared venture no farther into the region of probabilities, for I might presently have stumbled upon an impossibility, which would have brought the Professor on the scene when he was not wanted.
Still, it was evident that the air, under a pressure which might reach that of thousands of atmospheres, would at last reach the solid state, and then, even if our bodies could resist the strain, we should be stopped, and no reasonings would be able to get us on any farther.
But I did not advance this argument.
My uncle would have met it with his inevitable Saknussemm, a precedent which possessed no weight with me; for even if the journey of the learned Icelander were really attested, there was one very simple answer, that in the sixteenth century there was neither barometer or aneroid and therefore Saknussemm could not tell how far he had gone.
But I kept this objection to myself, and waited the course of events.
The rest of the day was passed in calculations and in conversations.
I remained a steadfast adherent of the opinions of Professor Liedenbrock, and I envied the stolid indifference of Hans, who, without going into causes and effects, went on with his eyes shut wherever his destiny guided him.
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 became no worse, we might hope to reach our end.
And to what a height of scientific glory we should then attain!
I had become quite a Liedenbrock in my reasonings; seriously I had.
But would this state of things last in the strange place we had come to?
Perhaps it might.
For several days steeper inclines, some even frightfully near to the perpendicular, brought us deeper and deeper into the mass of the interior of the earth.
Some days we advanced nearer to the centre by a league and a half, or nearly two leagues.
These were perilous descents, in which the skill and marvellous coolness of Hans were invaluable to us.
That unimpassioned Icelander devoted himself with incomprehensible deliberation; and, thanks to him, we crossed many a dangerous spot which we should never have cleared alone.
But his habit of silence gained upon him day by day, and was infecting us.
External objects produce decided effects upon the brain.
A man shut up between four walls soon loses the power to associate words and ideas together.
How many prisoners in solitary confinement become idiots, if not mad, for want of exercise for the thinking faculty!
During the fortnight following our last conversation, no incident occurred worthy of being recorded.
But I have good reason for remembering one very serious event which took place at this time, and of which I could scarcely now forget the smallest details.
By the 7th of August our successive descents had brought us to a depth of thirty leagues; that is, that for a space of thirty leagues there were over our heads solid beds of rock, ocean, continents, and towns.
We must have been two hundred leagues from Iceland.
On that day the tunnel went down a gentle slope.
I was ahead of the others. 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 my uncle 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 into the darkness.
I shouted.
No reply: my voice was lost in the midst of the 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 companions again.
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 that dense atmosphere a voice could reach very far.
But there was a dreary silence in all that long gallery.
I stopped.
I could not believe that I was lost.
I was only bewildered for a time, not lost.
I was sure I should find my way again.