Starving the Enemy Into Submission

"He is gone!" cried Martha, running out of her kitchen at the noise of the violent slamming of doors.

"He is gone!" cried Martha, running out of the kitchen when she heard the doors slam violently.

"Yes," I replied, "completely gone."

"Yes," I replied, "completely gone."

"Well; and how about his dinner?" said the old servant.

"Well, what about his dinner?" said the old servant.

"He won't have any."

"He won't have any."

"And his supper?"

"And his dinner?"

"He won't have any."

"He won't have any."

"What?" cried Martha, with clasped hands.

"What?" Martha cried, clasping her hands.

"No, my dear Martha, he will eat no more. No one in the house is to eat anything at all. Uncle Liedenbrock is going to make us all fast until he has succeeded in deciphering an undecipherable scrawl."

“No, my dear Martha, he won’t eat any more. No one in the house is allowed to eat anything. Uncle Liedenbrock is going to make us all go without food until he manages to decipher an indecipherable scrawl.”

"Oh, my dear! must we then all die of hunger?"

"Oh, my dear! Are we all going to starve?"

I hardly dared to confess that, with so absolute a ruler as my uncle, this fate was inevitable.

I hardly dared admit that this fate was inevitable with an uncle who ruled so absolutely.

The old servant, visibly moved, returned to the kitchen, moaning piteously.

The old servant, visibly upset, returned to the kitchen, moaning pitifully.

When I was alone, I thought I would go and tell Gräuben all about it. But how should I be able to escape from the house? The Professor might return at any moment. And suppose he called me? And suppose he tackled me again with this logomachy, which might vainly have been set before ancient Oedipus. And if I did not obey his call, who could answer for what might happen?

When I was alone, I thought I would go and tell Gräuben all about it. But how could I get out of the house? The Professor might return at any moment. What if he called me? What if he confronted me again with this word puzzle, which even ancient Oedipus might have tried in vain to solve? And if I did not answer his call, who could say what might happen?

The wisest course was to remain where I was. A mineralogist at Besançon had just sent us a collection of siliceous nodules, which I had to classify: so I set to work; I sorted, labelled, and arranged in their own glass case all these hollow specimens, in the cavity of each of which was a nest of little crystals.

The wisest thing to do was to stay where I was. A mineralogist in Besançon had just sent us a collection of silica nodules for me to classify. So I set to work, sorting and labeling all the hollow specimens and arranging them in their own glass case. Each specimen contained a cluster of small crystals.

But this work did not succeed in absorbing all my attention. That old document kept working in my brain. My head throbbed with excitement, and I felt an undefined uneasiness. I was possessed with a presentiment of coming evil.

But the work did not hold all my attention. I kept thinking about that old document. My head throbbed with excitement, and I felt vaguely uneasy. I had a strong feeling that something terrible was coming.

In an hour my nodules were all arranged upon successive shelves. Then I dropped down into the old velvet armchair, my head thrown back and my hands joined over it. I lighted my long crooked pipe, with a painting on it of an idle-looking naiad; then I amused myself watching the process of the conversion of the tobacco into carbon, which was by slow degrees making my naiad into a negress. Now and then I listened to hear whether a well-known step was on the stairs. No. Where could my uncle be at that moment? I fancied him running under the noble trees which line the road to Altona, gesticulating, making shots with his cane, thrashing the long grass, cutting the heads off the thistles, and disturbing the contemplative storks in their peaceful solitude.

Within an hour, I had arranged all my nodules on shelves, one after another. Then I sank into the old velvet armchair, my head thrown back and my hands clasped over it. I lit my long, crooked pipe, which had a painting of an idle-looking naiad on it. I amused myself watching the tobacco turn into carbon, which was slowly turning my naiad into a negress. Now and then, I listened for a familiar step on the stairs. Nothing. Where could my uncle be at that moment? I imagined him running beneath the magnificent trees along the road to Altona. He was waving his arms, making stabbing motions with his cane, and thrashing the long grass. He was cutting the heads off thistles and disturbing the thoughtful storks in their peaceful solitude.

Would he return in triumph or in discouragement? Which would get the upper hand, he or the secret? I was thus asking myself questions, and mechanically taking between my fingers the sheet of paper mysteriously disfigured with the incomprehensible succession of letters I had written down; and I repeated to myself "What does it all mean?"

Would he return in triumph or defeat? Which would prevail, he or the secret? As I asked myself these questions, I absentmindedly held the sheet of paper between my fingers. It was mysteriously disfigured by the incomprehensible sequence of letters I had written down. I kept asking myself, "What does it all mean?"

I sought to group the letters so as to form words. Quite impossible! When I put them together by twos, threes, fives or sixes, nothing came of it but nonsense. To be sure the fourteenth, fifteenth and sixteenth letters made the English word 'ice'; the eighty-third and two following made 'sir'; and in the midst of the document, in the second and third lines, I observed the words, "rots," "mutabile," "ira," "net," "atra."

I tried to group the letters into words. It was impossible! I grouped them in twos, threes, fives, and sixes, but got nothing but nonsense. The fourteenth, fifteenth, and sixteenth letters did spell the English word 'ice'. The eighty-third and the two after it spelled 'sir'. In the middle of the document, in the second and third lines, I noticed the words "rots," "mutabile," "ira," "net," "atra."

"Come now," I thought, "these words seem to justify my uncle's view about the language of the document. In the fourth line appeared the word "luco", which means a sacred wood. It is true that in the third line was the word "tabiled", which looked like Hebrew, and in the last the purely French words "mer", "arc", "mere.""

"Come on," I thought, "these words seem to support my uncle's view about the document's language. The fourth line contained the word "luco", which means a sacred wood. It is true that the third line contained "tabiled", which looked like Hebrew. And the last line contained the purely French words "mer", "arc", "mere.""

All this was enough to drive a poor fellow crazy. Four different languages in this ridiculous sentence! What connection could there possibly be between such words as ice, sir, anger, cruel, sacred wood, changeable, mother, bow, and sea? The first and the last might have something to do with each other; it was not at all surprising that in a document written in Iceland there should be mention of a sea of ice; but it was quite another thing to get to the end of this cryptogram with so small a clue. So I was struggling with an insurmountable difficulty; my brain got heated, my eyes watered over that sheet of paper; its hundred and thirty-two letters seemed to flutter and fly around me like those motes of mingled light and darkness which float in the air around the head when the blood is rushing upwards with undue violence. I was a prey to a kind of hallucination; I was stifling; I wanted air. Unconsciously I fanned myself with the bit of paper, the back and front of which successively came before my eyes. What was my surprise when, in one of those rapid revolutions, at the moment when the back was turned to me I thought I caught sight of the Latin words "craterem," "terrestre," and others.

All this was enough to drive a poor fellow crazy. Four different languages in this ridiculous sentence! What connection could there possibly be between words like ice, sir, anger, cruel, sacred wood, changeable, mother, bow, and sea? The first and last might have something to do with each other. It was no surprise that a document written in Iceland would mention a sea of ice. But solving the cryptogram with so small a clue was quite another matter. I was struggling with an impossible problem. My brain grew hot, and my eyes watered as I stared at the sheet of paper. Its hundred and thirty-two letters seemed to flutter and fly around me. They were like the specks of light and darkness that float around your head when blood rushes to it too violently. I was caught in a kind of hallucination. I was suffocating. I needed air. Without thinking, I fanned myself with the piece of paper. Its front and back passed before my eyes in turn. To my surprise, during one of those rapid turns, I thought I saw Latin words on the back. They included "craterem," "terrestre," and others.

A sudden light burst in upon me; these hints alone gave me the first glimpse of the truth; I had discovered the key to the cipher. To read the document, it would not even be necessary to read it through the paper. Such as it was, just such as it had been dictated to me, so it might be spelt out with ease. All those ingenious professorial combinations were coming right. He was right as to the arrangement of the letters; he was right as to the language. He had been within a hair's breadth of reading this Latin document from end to end; but that hair's breadth, chance had given it to me!

Suddenly, I saw the light. Those hints alone gave me my first glimpse of the truth. I had discovered the key to the cipher. To read the document, I would not even need to read it through the paper. I could easily spell it out just as it was, exactly as it had been dictated to me. All the professor’s ingenious combinations were falling into place. He was right about the arrangement of the letters and the language. He had come within a hair’s breadth of reading the Latin document from beginning to end. But chance had given me that last hair’s breadth!

You may be sure I felt stirred up. My eyes were dim, I could scarcely see. I had laid the paper upon the table. At a glance I could tell the whole secret.

You can imagine how excited I felt. My eyes were blurry, and I could barely see. I had laid the paper on the table. At a glance, I could see the whole secret.

At last I became more calm. I made a wise resolve to walk twice round the room quietly and settle my nerves, and then I returned into the deep gulf of the huge armchair.

At last, I grew calmer. I wisely decided to walk quietly around the room twice to settle my nerves. Then I sank back into the deep hollow of the huge armchair.

"Now I'll read it," I cried, after having well distended my lungs with air.

"Now I'll read it," I cried, after taking a deep breath.

I leaned over the table; I laid my finger successively upon every letter; and without a pause, without one moment's hesitation, I read off the whole sentence aloud.

I leaned over the table and put my finger on each letter in turn. Without pausing or hesitating for a moment, I read the whole sentence aloud.

Stupefaction! terror! I sat overwhelmed as if with a sudden deadly blow. What! that which I read had actually, really been done! A mortal man had had the audacity to penetrate! . . .

Astonishment! Terror! I sat there overwhelmed, as if I had been struck a sudden, deadly blow. What! Someone had actually, really done what I had read about! A mortal man had dared to go inside! . . .

"Ah!" I cried, springing up. "But no! no! My uncle shall never know it. He would insist upon doing it too. He would want to know all about it. Ropes could not hold him, such a determined geologist as he is! He would start, he would, in spite of everything and everybody, and he would take me with him, and we should never get back. No, never! never!"

"Ah!" I cried, jumping up. "But no! No! My uncle must never know about it. He would insist on doing it too. He would want to know everything about it. Even ropes couldn't hold him back. He's such a determined geologist! He would set out, in spite of everything and everyone, and take me with him. And we would never get back. No, never! Never!"

My over-excitement was beyond all description.

I was too excited for words.

"No! no! it shall not be," I declared energetically; "and as it is in my power to prevent the knowledge of it coming into the mind of my tyrant, I will do it. By dint of turning this document round and round, he too might discover the key. I will destroy it."

"No! No! I won't let it happen," I declared firmly. "I can stop my tyrant from finding out, and I will. If he keeps turning this document around, he might discover the key too. I will destroy it."

There was a little fire left on the hearth. I seized not only the paper but Saknussemm's parchment; with a feverish hand I was about to fling it all upon the coals and utterly destroy and abolish this dangerous secret, when the study door opened, and my uncle appeared.

A small fire was still burning in the fireplace. I grabbed both the paper and Saknussemm's parchment. My hand shook as I was about to throw them onto the coals, destroying the dangerous secret forever. But just then, the study door opened, and my uncle appeared.