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 would restrain him in spite of himself if he wanted to undertake the adventure; that, after all, he might discover the key of the cipher by himself, and that I would then have suffered abstinence for nothing.

These reasons seemed excellent to me, though on the night before I would have rejected them with indignation; I even found it completely absurd to have waited so long, and made a decision to say it all.

I was looking for a way of bringing up the matter that was not too abrupt when the professor jumped up, put on his hat, and prepared to go out.

What! Going out again, and locking us in once more? Never.

“Uncle!” I said.

He seemed not to hear me.

“Uncle Lidenbrock?” I repeated, speaking more loudly

“What?” he said like a man suddenly waking up.

“Well! The key?”

“What key? The door key?”

“But no!” I exclaimed. “The key to the document!”

The Professor stared at me over his spectacles; no doubt he saw something unusual in physiognomy, for he seized my arm, and questioned me with his eyes without being able to speak. Nonetheless, never was a question more forcibly put.

I nodded my head up and down.

He shook his pityingly, as if he was dealing with a lunatic.

I made a more affirmative gesture.

His eyes sparkled with live fire, his hand threatened me.

This mute conversation would, under the circumstances, have interested even the most indifferent spectator. And the truth is that I did not dare to speak out any more, so much did I fear that my uncle would smother me in his joyful embraces. But he became so urgent that I was at last compelled to answer.

“Yes, that key, chance—”

“What are you saying?” he shouted with indescribable emotion.

“There, read that!” I said, giving him the sheet of paper on which I had written.

“But this doesn’t mean anything,” he answered, crumpling up the paper.

“No, not when you start to read from the beginning, but from the end…”

I had not finished my sentence when the professor broke out into a cry, more than a cry, a real roar! A new revelation took place in his mind. He was transfigured.

“Aha, ingenious Saknussemm!” he exclaimed, “so you first wrote out your sentence backwards?”

And throwing himself on the paper, eyes dimmed and voice choked, he read the entire document from the last letter to the first.

It was phrased as follows:

In Sneffels Yoculis craterem kem delibat umbra Scartaris Julii intra calendas descende, audas viator, et terrestre centrum attinges. Kod feci. Arne Saknussemm.

Which bad Latin may be translated like this:

Descend into the crater of Snaefells Jökull, which the shadow of Scartaris touches before the calendsj of July, bold traveler, and you will reach the center of the earth. I did it. Arne Saknussemm.

In reading this, my uncle jumped up as if he had inadvertently touched a Leyden jar.k His audacity, his joy, and his conviction were magnificent to see. He came and he went; he gripped his head with both his hands; he pushed the chairs out of their places, he piled up his books; incredible as it may seem, he juggled his precious geodes; he sent a kick here, a thump there. At last his nerves calmed down, and like a man exhausted by too great an expenditure of vital power, he sank back into his armchair.

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

“Three o’clock,” I replied.

“Really? The dinner has passed quickly. I’m starving. Let’s eat. And then …”

“Well?”

“After dinner, pack my suitcase.”

“What!” I exclaimed.

“And yours!” replied the merciless professor and entered into the dining-room.

VI

AT THESE WORDS A cold shiver ran through me. Yet I controlled myself; I even decided to put a good face on it. Scientific arguments alone could have any weight with Professor Lidenbrock. Now there were good ones against the practicability of such a journey. Go to the center of the earth! What nonsense! But I kept my dialectics in reserve for a suitable opportunity, and focused on dinner.

It is no use to tell of the rage and imprecations of my uncle before the empty table. Explanations were given, Martha was set at liberty, ran off to the market, and did her part so well that an hour afterwards my hunger was appeased, and I returned to the gravity of the situation.

During the dinner, my uncle was almost merry; he indulged in some of those learned jokes which never do anybody any harm. Dessert over, he signaled to me to follow him to his study.

I obeyed; he sat at one end of his table, I at the other.

“Axel,” he said very mildly; “you’re a very ingenious lad, you’ve done me a splendid service, at a moment when I, tired of the struggle, was going to abandon the combinations. Where would I have lost myself? Impossible to know! Never, my lad, will I forget it; and you’ll have your share in the glory to which your discovery will lead.”

“Oh, come!” I thought, “he is in a good mood. Now’s the time for discussing this glory.”

“Before anything else,” my uncle resumed, “I recommend that you keep absolute secrecy, you understand? There are not a few in the scientific world who envy my success, and many would be ready to undertake this enterprise who’ll only find out about it at our return.”

“Do you really think there are many people bold enough?”

“Certainly; who would hesitate to acquire such fame? If that document were divulged, a whole army of geologists would be ready to rush into the footsteps of Arne Saknussemm.”

“That’s something I’m not convinced of, Uncle, because we have no proof of the authenticity of this document.”

“What! And the book inside which we discovered it?”

“Granted. I admit that Saknussemm may have written these lines. But does it follow that he’s really carried out such a journey? Couldn’t this old parchment be misleading?”

I almost regretted uttering this last, somewhat daring word. The professor knitted his thick brows, and I feared I had seriously compromised my own safety. Happily no great harm came of it. A kind of smile sketched itself on the lips of my severe interlocutor, and he answered:

“That is what we’ll see.”

“Ah!” I said, a bit offended. “But allow me to exhaust all the possible objections against this document.”

“Speak, my boy, don’t be afraid. You’re quite at liberty to express your opinions.