fearing that, in a dreadful fit of madness, he might kill himself, watched him with constant devotion. One morning (what date it was I could not say) I had fallen into a heavy sleep towards the early hours, a sleep both painful and unhealthy, when I suddenly awoke. Ned Land was leaning over me, saying, in a low voice, “We are going to fly.” I sat up. “When shall we go?” I asked. “To-night. All inspection on board the _Nautilus_ seems to have ceased. All appear to be stupefied. You will be ready, sir?” “Yes; where are we?” “In sight of land. I took the reckoning this morning in the fog—twenty miles to the east.” “What country is it?” “I do not know; but, whatever it is, we will take refuge there.” “Yes, Ned, yes. We will fly to-night, even if the sea should swallow us up.” “The sea is bad, the wind violent, but twenty miles in that light boat of the _Nautilus_ does not frighten me. Unknown to the crew, I have been able to procure food and some bottles of water.” “I will follow you.” “But,” continued the Canadian, “if I am surprised, I will defend myself; I will force them to kill me.” “We will die together, friend Ned.” I had made up my mind to all. The Canadian left me. I reached the platform, on which I could with difficulty support myself against the shock of the waves. The sky was threatening; but, as land was in those thick brown shadows, we must fly. I returned to the saloon, fearing and yet hoping to see Captain Nemo, wishing and yet not wishing to see him. What could I have said to him? Could I hide the involuntary horror with which he inspired me? No. It was better that I should not meet him face to face; better to forget him. And yet—— How long seemed that day, the last that I should pass in the _Nautilus_. I remained alone. Ned Land and Conseil avoided speaking, for fear of betraying themselves. At six I dined, but I was not hungry; I forced myself to eat in spite of my disgust, that I might not weaken myself. At half-past six Ned Land came to my room, saying, “We shall not see each other again before our departure. At ten the moon will not be risen. We will profit by the darkness. Come to the boat; Conseil and I will wait for you.” The Canadian went out without giving me time to answer. Wishing to verify the course of the _Nautilus_, I went to the saloon. We were running N.N.E. at frightful speed, and more than fifty yards deep. I cast a last look on these wonders of nature, on the riches of art heaped up in this museum, upon the unrivalled collection destined to perish at the bottom of the sea, with him who had formed it. I wished to fix an indelible impression of it in my mind. I remained an hour thus, bathed in the light of that luminous ceiling, and passing in review those treasures shining under their glasses. Then I returned to my room.