A Winter Amid the Ice, and Other Thrilling StoriesVerne, Jules
Science
A Winter Amid the Ice, and Other Thrilling Stories
Verne, Jules
French fiction -- Translations into English
“See, there is Darmstadt,” said my companion, leaning over the car. “Do
you perceive the château? Not very distinctly, eh? What would you have?
The heat of the storm makes the outline of objects waver, and you must
have a skilled eye to recognize localities.”
“Are you certain it is Darmstadt?” I asked.
“I am sure of it. We are now six leagues from Frankfort.”
“Then we must descend.”
“Descend! You would not go down, on the steeples,” said the unknown,
with a chuckle.
“No, but in the suburbs of the city.”
“Well, let us avoid the steeples!”
So speaking, my companion seized some bags of ballast. I hastened to
prevent him; but he overthrew me with one hand, and the unballasted
balloon ascended to two thousand yards.
“Rest easy,” said he, “and do not forget that Brioschi, Biot,
Gay-Lussac, Bixio, and Barral ascended to still greater heights to make
their scientific experiments.”
“Monsieur, we must descend,” I resumed, trying to persuade him by
gentleness. “The storm is gathering around us. It would be more
prudent—”
“Bah! We will mount higher than the storm, and then we shall no longer
fear it!” cried my companion. “What is nobler than to overlook the
clouds which oppress the earth? Is it not an honour thus to navigate on
aerial billows? The greatest men have travelled as we are doing. The
Marchioness and Countess de Montalembert, the Countess of Podenas,
Mademoiselle la Garde, the Marquis de Montalembert, rose from the
Faubourg Saint-Antoine for these unknown regions, and the Duke de
Chartres exhibited much skill and presence of mind in his ascent on the
15th of July, 1784. At Lyons, the Counts of Laurencin and Dampierre; at
Nantes, M. de Luynes; at Bordeaux, D’Arbelet des Granges; in Italy, the
Chevalier Andreani; in our own time, the Duke of Brunswick,—have all
left the traces of their glory in the air. To equal these great
personages, we must penetrate still higher than they into the celestial
depths! To approach the infinite is to comprehend it!”
The rarefaction of the air was fast expanding the hydrogen in the
balloon, and I saw its lower part, purposely left empty, swell out, so
that it was absolutely necessary to open the valve; but my companion
did not seem to intend that I should manage the balloon as I wished. I
then resolved to pull the valve cord secretly, as he was excitedly
talking; for I feared to guess with whom I had to deal. It would have
been too horrible! It was nearly a quarter before one. We had been gone
forty minutes from Frankfort; heavy clouds were coming against the wind
from the south, and seemed about to burst upon us.
“Have you lost all hope of succeeding in your project?” I asked with
anxious interest.
“All hope!” exclaimed the unknown in a low voice. “Wounded by slights
and caricatures, these asses’ kicks have finished me! It is the eternal
punishment reserved for innovators! Look at these caricatures of all
periods, of which my portfolio is full.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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