Kitabı oku: «Путешествие к центру Земли / A Journey to the Centre of the Earth», sayfa 6

“Time, time.”

“But it is only the 16th May, and until the end of June—”

“What, you monument of ignorance! Do you think you can get to Iceland in a couple of days? There is only one trip every month from Copenhagen to Reykjavik, on the 22nd. Therefore we must get to Copenhagen as fast as we can. Go and pack up.”

I went up to my room. Gräuben followed me. She helped me to pack up all things necessary for my voyage. Her little hands moved without haste. Finally I came downstairs.

“Where’s your box?” cried my uncle.

“It is ready,” I replied, with faltering voice.

It was now manifestly impossible to maintain the struggle against destiny.

My pretty Gräuben kissed the Professor.

“Gräuben!” I murmured.

“Go, my dear Axel, go! I am now your betrothed; and when you come back I will be your wife.”

I pressed her in my arms and took my place in the carriage.

8

Altona was the terminus of the Kiel ³²railway, which carried us to the Belts³³. At half-past six the carriage stopped at the station; my uncle’s numerous packages were unloaded, removed, labelled, weighed, put into the luggage vans, and at seven we were seated face to face in our compartment. The whistle sounded, the engine started, we were off.

My uncle examined all his pockets and his travelling bag to make sure he had not forgotten even the smallest thing. The steamer did not start until night.

At seven in the morning we landed at Korsor³⁴, a small town on the west coast of Zealand³⁵. Three hours’ travelling brought us to the capital of Denmark. My uncle had not shut his eyes all night. I believe he was trying to accelerate the train with his feet.

“It’s all right, it’s all right,” my uncle repeated. “How fortunate we are!”

9

The day for our departure arrived. On the 2nd, at six in the evening, all our precious baggage was safely on board the Valkyria³⁶.

“How long will the passage take?” my uncle asked.

“Ten days,” the captain replied. “Mr. Liedenbrock, don’t be uneasy, we shall get there in very good time.”

In a week and a half we were finally treading the soil of Iceland.

We stayed at Mr. Fridrikssen’s ³⁷place. He was a professor of natural sciences at the school of Rejkiavik. This modest philosopher spoke only Danish and Latin. In fact he was the only person in Iceland with whom I could talk.

“Well, Axel,” said my uncle, “and now the worst is over.”

“The worst!” I said, astonished.

“To be sure, now we have nothing to do but go down. Come, there’s no time to lose; I am going to the library. Perhaps there is some manuscript of Saknussemm’s there.”

“Well, while you are there I will go into the town. Won’t you?”

“Oh, that is very uninteresting to me. It is not what is upon this island, but what is underneath, that interests me.”

I went out.

It was not easy to lose your way in Reykjavik. The town extended between two hills. The longest of the only two streets that Reykjavik had was parallel to the beach. Here, in wooden cabins, lived the merchants and traders; the other street ended at the little lake between the house of the bishop and few residential houses. Between the little lake and the town stood a church that was built in the Protestant style³⁸. On a hill I saw the national school, where children were taught Hebrew, English, French, and Danish; four languages of which I didn’t know a single word.

After a walk I returned to Mr. Fridrikssen’s house, where I found my uncle already in his host’s company.