“What?” I cried.
“And yours!” replied the indefatigable Professor, entering the dining-room.
6
At these words a cold shiver ran through me. Yet I controlled myself. During all dinner time my uncle was almost merry. After the dessert, he invited me into his study.
I obeyed; he sat at one end of his table, I at the other.
“Axel,” said he very mildly; “you are a very ingenious young man, you have done me a splendid service, when I was going to abandon the contest. Never, my lad, shall I forget it. But I want to preserve the secrecy: you understand? There are people in the scientific world who envy my success.”
“Do you really think there are many people bold enough?” said I.
“Certainly! A whole army of geologists is ready to follow Arne Saknussemm.”
“But, uncle,” I replied; “we have no proof of the authenticity of this document.”
“What! Not of the book, inside which we have discovered it?”
“I admit that Saknussemm wrote these lines. But has he really accomplished such a journey?”
A smile flitted across the lip of my uncle, and he answered:
“That is what we shall see.”
“Ah!” said I. “But let me present all the possible objections against this document.”
“Speak, my boy, don’t be afraid. You are no longer my nephew only, but my colleague.”
“Well, I want to ask what are this ‘Jokul’, this ‘Sneffels’, and this ‘Scartaris’?”
“Nothing easier. I received not long ago a map from my friend. Take that atlas in the second shelf in the large bookcase.”
I rose from my seat and found the required atlas. My uncle opened it and said:
“Here is one of the best maps of Iceland, and I believe this will solve the worst of our difficulties.”
I bent over the map.
“You see this volcanic island?” said the Professor; “All the volcanoes are called jokuls, a word which means glacier in Icelandic.”
“Very good,” said I; “but what of ‘Sneffels’?”
My uncle replied:
“Follow my finger along the west coast of Iceland. Do you see Reykjavik[27], the capital? You do. Well; ascend the innumerable fiords, and stop at the sixty-fifth degree of latitude. What do you see there?”
“I see a peninsula, and a mountain rising out of the sea.”
“Right. That is Sneffels. It is a mountain five thousand feet high, one of the most remarkable in the world, if its crater leads down to the centre of the Earth.”
“But that is impossible,” I disgusted at such a ridiculous supposition.
“Impossible?” said the Professor severely; “and why?”
“Because this crater is evidently filled with lava and burning rocks, and therefore—”
“But suppose it is an extinct volcano[28]?”
“Extinct?”
“Yes; the number of active volcanoes on the surface of the globe is about three hundred. But there is a much larger number of extinct ones. Now, Sneffels is one of these.”
“What is the meaning of this word ‘Scartaris’?”
My uncle took a few minutes to consider.
“What is darkness to you is light to me. One of the peaks is called Scartaris, it flung its shadow down the mouth of that crater. Isn’t it the most exact guide? When we arrive at the summit of Sneffels we shall find the proper road.”
“Well, then,” I said, “I can admit that Saknussemm’s sentence is clear. That learned philosopher got to the bottom of Sneffels, and saw the shadow of Scartaris on the edge of the crater before the kalends of July. But as for performing the journey, and returning, if he ever went, I say no—he never, never did that.”
“And why?” said my uncle ironically.
“All the theories of science demonstrate it.”
“The theories say that, do they?” replied the Professor in the tone of a meek disciple. “Oh! Unpleasant theories! They will not hinder us, won’t they?”
“Yes; it is perfectly well known that the internal temperature rises one degree for every 70 feet in depth; so there must be a temperature of 360,032 degrees at the centre of the Earth. Therefore, all the substances that compose the body of this Earth must exist there in a state of incandescent gas[29].”
“So, Axel, it is the heat that troubles you?”
“Of course it is. If we reach a depth of thirty miles, the temperature will be more than 2372 degrees.”
“This is my decision,” replied Professor Liedenbrock. “Neither you nor anybody else knows with any certainty what is going on in the interior of this globe, since not the twelve thousandth part of its radius is known. Many geologists say that the interior of the globe is neither gas nor water, nor any of the heaviest minerals. You see, Axel, the condition of the terrestrial nucleus is absolutely unknown. There is no proof at all for the internal heat; my opinion is that there is no such thing, it cannot be; besides we shall see for ourselves, and, like Arne Saknussemm, we shall know exactly what is there.”
“Very well, we shall see,” I replied. “Yes, we shall see; that is, if it is possible to see anything there.”
“And why not? But silence, do you hear me? Silence upon the whole subject; tell nobody that we are going to discover the centre of the Earth.”
7
Thus ended our conversation and I came out of my uncle’s study. I made for the banks of the Elbe[30], where the steamer lands its passengers.
“It is quite absurd!” I cried, “There is no sense about it. The whole thing is non-existent.”
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