Starvation, Then Victory, Then Dismay

I had only just time to replace the unfortunate document upon the table.

I had just enough time to put the unfortunate document back on the table.

Professor Liedenbrock seemed to be greatly abstracted.

Professor Liedenbrock seemed deeply distracted.

The ruling thought gave him no rest. Evidently he had gone deeply into the matter, analytically and with profound scrutiny. He had brought all the resources of his mind to bear upon it during his walk, and he had come back to apply some new combination.

The thought would not leave him alone. Clearly, he had examined the matter deeply and carefully. During his walk, he had focused all his mental resources on it. He had come back to try some new combination.

He sat in his armchair, and pen in hand he began what looked very much like algebraic formula: I followed with my eyes his trembling hands, I took count of every movement. Might not some unhoped-for result come of it? I trembled, too, very unnecessarily, since the true key was in my hands, and no other would open the secret.

He sat in his armchair, took up a pen, and began writing what looked very much like an algebraic formula. I watched his trembling hands, noting every movement. Could this produce some unexpected result? I trembled too, though there was no need. I had the true key, and nothing else would unlock the secret.

For three long hours my uncle worked on without a word, without lifting his head; rubbing out, beginning again, then rubbing out again, and so on a hundred times.

For three long hours, my uncle worked without speaking or lifting his head. He erased his work, started again, then erased it again, repeating this a hundred times.

I knew very well that if he succeeded in setting down these letters in every possible relative position, the sentence would come out. But I knew also that twenty letters alone could form two quintillions, four hundred and thirty-two quadrillions, nine hundred and two trillions, eight billions, a hundred and seventy-six millions, six hundred and forty thousand combinations. Now, here were a hundred and thirty-two letters in this sentence, and these hundred and thirty-two letters would give a number of different sentences, each made up of at least a hundred and thirty-three figures, a number which passed far beyond all calculation or conception.

I knew very well that if he arranged the letters in every possible order, the sentence would emerge. But I also knew that twenty letters alone could form 2,432,902,008,176,640,000 combinations. This sentence had 132 letters. They would produce a number of different sentences requiring at least 133 digits to write down. That number was far beyond calculation or imagination.

So I felt reassured as far as regarded this heroic method of solving the difficulty.

So I felt reassured about this heroic way of solving the problem.

But time was passing away; night came on; the street noises ceased; my uncle, bending over his task, noticed nothing, not even Martha half opening the door; he heard not a sound, not even that excellent woman saying:

But time was passing. Night fell, and the noises in the street stopped. My uncle bent over his work and noticed nothing, not even Martha opening the door halfway. He heard nothing, not even that good woman saying:

"Will not monsieur take any supper to-night?"

"Won't monsieur have any supper tonight?"

And poor Martha had to go away unanswered. As for me, after long resistance, I was overcome by sleep, and fell off at the end of the sofa, while uncle Liedenbrock went on calculating and rubbing out his calculations.

And poor Martha had to leave without an answer. As for me, I fought sleep for a long time, but finally fell asleep at the end of the sofa. Uncle Liedenbrock went on calculating and erasing his calculations.

When I awoke next morning that indefatigable worker was still at his post. His red eyes, his pale complexion, his hair tangled between his feverish fingers, the red spots on his cheeks, revealed his desperate struggle with impossibilities, and the weariness of spirit, the mental wrestlings he must have undergone all through that unhappy night.

When I woke the next morning, that tireless worker was still at his post. His eyes were red, his face pale, and his hair tangled between his feverish fingers. Red spots marked his cheeks. These signs revealed his desperate struggle with impossibilities and the mental exhaustion and turmoil he must have endured throughout that miserable night.

To tell the plain truth, I pitied him. In spite of the reproaches which I considered I had a right to lay upon him, a certain feeling of compassion was beginning to gain upon me. The poor man was so entirely taken up with his one idea that he had even forgotten how to get angry. All the strength of his feelings was concentrated upon one point alone; and as their usual vent was closed, it was to be feared lest extreme tension should give rise to an explosion sooner or later.

To tell the truth, I pitied him. Though I felt I had every right to reproach him, I was beginning to feel sorry for him. The poor man was so focused on his one idea that he had even forgotten how to get angry. All the force of his feelings was concentrated on that one idea. Since he could no longer release his feelings in the usual way, I feared the extreme tension might lead to an explosion sooner or later.

I might with a word have loosened the screw of the steel vice that was crushing his brain; but that word I would not speak.

I could have loosened the screw of the steel vise crushing his brain with a word. But I would not say it.

"No, no," I repeated, "I shall not speak. He would insist upon going; nothing on earth could stop him. His imagination is a volcano, and to do that which other geologists have never done he would risk his life. I will preserve silence. I will keep the secret which mere chance has revealed to me. To discover it, would be to kill Professor Liedenbrock! Let him find it out himself if he can. I will never have it laid to my door that I led him to his destruction."

"No, no," I repeated, "I won't speak. He would insist on going. Nothing on earth could stop him. His imagination is a volcano. He would risk his life to do what no other geologist has ever done. I will stay silent. I will keep the secret that I discovered by chance. To reveal it would be to kill Professor Liedenbrock! Let him find it out himself if he can. I will never let it be said that I led him to his destruction."

Having formed this resolution, I folded my arms and waited. But I had not reckoned upon one little incident which turned up a few hours after.

Having made this decision, I folded my arms and waited. But I had not expected a small incident that occurred a few hours later.

When our good Martha wanted to go to Market, she found the door locked. The big key was gone. Who could have taken it out? Assuredly, it was my uncle, when he returned the night before from his hurried walk.

When our good Martha wanted to go to the market, she found the door locked. The big key was gone. Who could have taken it? Surely my uncle took it when he returned from his hurried walk the night before.

Was this done on purpose? Or was it a mistake? Did he want to reduce us by famine? This seemed like going rather too far! What! should Martha and I be victims of a position of things in which we had not the smallest interest? It was a fact that a few years before this, whilst my uncle was working at his great classification of minerals, he was forty-eight hours without eating, and all his household were obliged to share in this scientific fast. As for me, what I remember is, that I got severe cramps in my stomach, which hardly suited the constitution of a hungry, growing lad.

Had he done this on purpose? Or was it a mistake? Did he want to starve us into submission? That seemed to be going a bit too far! Were Martha and I supposed to suffer because of a situation that was no concern of ours? A few years earlier, my uncle had gone forty-eight hours without eating while working on his great classification of minerals. Everyone in his household had been forced to share in this scientific fast. As for me, I remember getting severe stomach cramps, which hardly suited a hungry, growing boy.

Now it appeared to me as if breakfast was going to be wanting, just as supper had been the night before. Yet I resolved to be a hero, and not to be conquered by the pangs of hunger. Martha took it very seriously, and, poor woman, was very much distressed. As for me, the impossibility of leaving the house distressed me a good deal more, and for a very good reason. A caged lover's feelings may easily be imagined.

Now it seemed to me that there would be no breakfast, just as there had been no supper the night before. Yet I resolved to be a hero and not give in to hunger. Martha took the situation very seriously, and the poor woman was deeply distressed. As for me, being unable to leave the house distressed me much more, and for a very good reason. You can easily imagine how a lover feels when trapped indoors.

My uncle went on working, his imagination went off rambling into the ideal world of combinations; he was far away from earth, and really far away from earthly wants.

My uncle kept working, his imagination wandering through an ideal world of combinations. He was far from earth and truly far from its needs.

About noon hunger began to stimulate me severely. Martha had, without thinking any harm, cleared out the larder the night before, so that now there was nothing left in the house. Still I held out; I made it a point of honour.

Around noon, I became very hungry. Martha had emptied the pantry the night before, without meaning any harm. So there was nothing left in the house. Still, I held out. I considered it a matter of honor.

Two o'clock struck. This was becoming ridiculous; worse than that, unbearable. I began to say to myself that I was exaggerating the importance of the document; that my uncle would surely not believe in it, that he would set it down as a mere puzzle; that if it came to the worst, we should lay violent hands on him and keep him at home if he thought on venturing on the expedition; that, after all, he might himself discover the key of the cipher, and that then I should be clear at the mere expense of my involuntary abstinence.

Two o'clock struck. This was becoming ridiculous. Worse, it was unbearable. I began telling myself that I was exaggerating the document's importance. Surely my uncle would not believe it. He would dismiss it as just a puzzle. If the worst came to the worst and he considered making the expedition, we would forcibly keep him at home. After all, he might even find the key to the cipher himself. Then I would be in the clear, with nothing lost but the meals I had been forced to miss.

These reasons seemed excellent to me, though on the night before I should have rejected them with indignation; I even went so far as to condemn myself for my absurdity in having waited so long, and I finally resolved to let it all out.

These reasons seemed excellent to me, though the night before I would have rejected them with indignation. I even scolded myself for being foolish enough to wait so long. Finally, I decided to tell everything.

I was therefore meditating a proper introduction to the matter, so as not to seem too abrupt, when the Professor jumped up, clapped on his hat, and prepared to go out.

I was thinking about how to introduce the subject without sounding too abrupt. Just then, the Professor jumped up, put on his hat, and prepared to go out.

Surely he was not going out, to shut us in again! no, never!

Surely he wasn't going out to lock us in again! No, never!

"Uncle!" I cried.

"Uncle!" I cried.

He seemed not to hear me.

He didn't seem to hear me.

"Uncle Liedenbrock!" I cried, lifting up my voice.

"Uncle Liedenbrock!" I shouted.

"Ay," he answered like a man suddenly waking.

"Yes," he answered like a man suddenly waking up.

"Uncle, that key!"

"Uncle, that key!"

"What key? The door key?"

"What key? The door key?"

"No, no!" I cried. "The key of the document."

"No, no!" I cried. "The key to the document."

The Professor stared at me over his spectacles; no doubt he saw something unusual in the expression of my countenance; for he laid hold of my arm, and speechlessly questioned me with his eyes. Yes, never was a question more forcibly put.

The Professor stared at me over his glasses. No doubt he saw something unusual in my expression. He grabbed my arm and questioned me with his eyes, without saying a word. Yes, never had a question been asked so forcefully.

I nodded my head up and down.

I nodded.

He shook his pityingly, as if he was dealing with a lunatic. I gave a more affirmative gesture.

He shook his head with pity, as if he were dealing with a madman. I gestured more firmly in agreement.

His eyes glistened and sparkled with live fire, his hand was shaken threateningly.

His eyes glittered and sparkled with fire. He shook his hand threateningly.

This mute conversation at such a momentous crisis would have riveted the attention of the most indifferent. And the fact really was that I dared not speak now, so intense was the excitement for fear lest my uncle should smother me in his first joyful embraces. But he became so urgent that I was at last compelled to answer.

This silent conversation at such a critical moment would have captured even the most indifferent person's attention. In fact, I was too excited to speak. I feared my uncle would smother me in his first joyful embraces. But he became so insistent that I finally had to answer.

"Yes, that key, chance—"

"Yes, that key, chance..."

"What is that you are saying?" he shouted with indescribable emotion.

"What are you saying?" he shouted with indescribable emotion.

"There, read that!" I said, presenting a sheet of paper on which I had written.

"Here, read this!" I said, holding out a sheet of paper I had written on.

"But there is nothing in this," he answered, crumpling up the paper.

"But there's nothing in this," he replied, crumpling up the paper.

"No, nothing until you proceed to read from the end to the beginning."

"No, nothing until you read it from the end to the beginning."

I had not finished my sentence when the Professor broke out into a cry, nay, a roar. A new revelation burst in upon him. He was transformed!

I had not finished my sentence when the Professor let out a cry, no, a roar. A new realization struck him. He was transformed!

"Aha, clever Saknussemm!" he cried. "You had first written out your sentence the wrong way."

"Aha, clever Saknussemm!" he cried. "You first wrote your sentence the wrong way."

And darting upon the paper, with eyes bedimmed, and voice choked with emotion, he read the whole document from the last letter to the first.

He rushed to the paper. With his eyes blurred and his voice choked with emotion, he read the whole document backward, from the last letter to the first.

It was conceived in the following terms:

It was worded as follows:

Which bad Latin may be translated thus:

This bad Latin may be translated as follows:

"Descend, bold traveller, into the crater of the jokul of Sneffels, which the shadow of Scartaris touches before the kalends of July, and you will attain the centre of the earth; which I have done, Arne Saknussemm."

"Bold traveler, descend into the crater of the jokul of Sneffels that the shadow of Scartaris touches before July 1. You will reach the center of the earth. I have done so, Arne Saknussemm."

In reading this, my uncle gave a spring as if he had touched a Leyden jar. His audacity, his joy, and his convictions were magnificent to behold. He came and he went; he seized his head between both his hands; he pushed the chairs out of their places, he piled up his books; incredible as it may seem, he rattled his precious nodules of flints together; he sent a kick here, a thump there. At last his nerves calmed down, and like a man exhausted by too lavish an expenditure of vital power, he sank back exhausted into his armchair.

As he read this, my uncle jumped as if he had touched a Leyden jar. His boldness, joy, and certainty were magnificent to see. He paced back and forth. He clutched his head with both hands, shoved chairs out of place, and piled up his books. Incredible as it may seem, he rattled his precious flint nodules together. He kicked one thing and thumped another. At last, his nerves settled. Like a man who had spent too much energy, he sank back into his armchair, exhausted.

"What o'clock is it?" he asked after a few moments of silence.

"What time is it?" he asked after a few moments of silence.

"Three o'clock," I replied.

"Three o'clock," I replied.

"Is it really? The dinner-hour is past, and I did not know it. I am half dead with hunger. Come on, and after dinner—"

"Really? Dinner time has passed, and I didn't know it. I'm half dead with hunger. Come on, and after dinner..."

"Well?"

"Well?"

"After dinner, pack up my trunk."

"After dinner, pack my trunk."

"What?" I cried.

"What?" I exclaimed.

"And yours!" replied the indefatigable Professor, entering the dining-room.

"And yours!" replied the tireless Professor, entering the dining room.