And so at length our expedition converted itself into little more than a random questing after what did not appear to exist. Should we ever again catch a glimpse of the green-golden walls of our lost universe? There were moments when I was given to curious doubts, and felt that Atlantis, once lost, could never be found again; that the billows would cover it as completely from our sight as from the sight of the ages. But all the time, while we kept dashing at prodigious speed through the vacant waters, we were given to strange fits of hope that alternated with spells of despair,--hope when we would descry a far-off light that would turn out to be merely some elusive fishy lantern,--despair that our help, already too long delayed, was being retarded to the point of impotence. The final discovery came with startling suddenness. One day, gliding slowly downward at a considerable depth, we were stopped by a hard, flat barrier that spread beneath us like the sea bottom. But as we began to drift horizontally, we observed that the surface was smooth and ominously light-reflecting--and with a gasp of despair we recognized that the substance was glass! The surprise and horror of that moment are still vivid in my memory. “Turn the searchlights down, down!” muttered the leader of our crew, in a voice that trembled perceptibly; and as the great water-piercing streamers began to quiver and shake and then slowly descended in long, rambling curves, Aelios came rushing to my side like a child who fears to be alone, and clung closely to me while we both stared through the portholes with faces rigid and eager. But at first we saw nothing. All was dark beneath us--not a gleam, not a flicker, broke the blackness of the Sunken World. Then, as the searchlights swayed and shifted till they swept the depths directly beneath, we began to make out familiar objects amid the obscurity. Dimly, strangely, as though draped in a fog, the outlines of great domes and arches and colonnades began to emerge, interspersed by Titanic columns and statuesque temples that appeared to waver uncannily. “See! See! It is still there!” Aelios cried, frantically, as she pressed more closely to me; and with the agony of despair in her voice was mingled just a tinge of hope. I took her hand and sought to console her; but even as I did so her whole body began to shake spasmodically, and her sobbing throbbed from end to end of the ship. For many minutes she seemed unable to speak. Yet, even while the long-drawn, heartbreaking sobs panted forth, she began to point, to point distractedly downward, with blind, quivering fingers that called with frenzied urgency, forcing me to peer again through the porthole. With my arms still about her, I scanned the dim, ghostly twilight. But for a moment I observed nothing alarming. Then, as my gaze became focused upon a gray dome just below, I too cried out in dread realization.