To the schists succeeded gneiss, partially stratified, remarkable for
the parallelism and regularity of its lamina, then mica schists, laid
in large plates or flakes, revealing their lamellated structure by
the sparkle of the white shining mica.
The light from our apparatus, reflected from the small facets of
quartz, shot sparkling rays at every angle, and I seemed to be moving
through a diamond, within which the quickly darting rays broke across
each other in a thousand flashing coruscations.
About six o'clock this brilliant fete of illuminations underwent a
sensible abatement of splendour, then almost ceased. The walls
assumed a crystallised though sombre appearance; mica was more
closely mingled with the feldspar and quartz to form the proper rocky
foundations of the earth, which bears without distortion or crushing
the weight of the four terrestrial systems. We were immured within
prison walls of granite.
It was eight in the evening. No signs of water had yet appeared. I
was suffering horribly. My uncle strode on. He refused to stop. He
was listening anxiously for the murmur of distant springs. But, no,
there was dead silence.
And now my limbs were failing beneath me. I resisted pain and
torture, that I might not stop my uncle, which would have driven him
to despair, for the day was drawing near to its end, and it was his
last.
At last I failed utterly; I uttered a cry and fell.
"Come to me, I am dying."
My uncle retraced his steps. He gazed upon me with his arms crossed;
then these muttered words passed his lips:
"It's all over!"
The last thing I saw was a fearful gesture of rage, and my eyes
closed.
When I reopened them I saw my two companions motionless and rolled up
in their coverings. Were they asleep? As for me, I could not get one
moment's sleep. I was suffering too keenly, and what embittered my
thoughts was that there was no remedy. My uncle's last words echoed
painfully in my ears: "it's all over!" For in such a fearful state of
debility it was madness to think of ever reaching the upper world
again.
We had above us a league and a half of terrestrial crust. The weight
of it seemed to be crushing down upon my shoulders. I felt weighed
down, and I exhausted myself with imaginary violent exertions to turn
round upon my granite couch.
A few hours passed away. A deep silence reigned around us, the
silence of the grave. No sound could reach us through walls, the
thinnest of which were five miles thick.
Yet in the midst of my stupefaction I seemed to be aware of a noise.
It was dark down the tunnel, but I seemed to see the Icelander
vanishing from our sight with the lamp in his hand.
Why was he leaving us? Was Hans going to forsake us? My uncle was
fast asleep. I wanted to shout, but my voice died upon my parched and
swollen lips. The darkness became deeper, and the last sound died
away in the far distance.
"Hans has abandoned us," I cried. "Hans! Hans!"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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