He found it quite simple to go to Iceland, since that was his profession. My uncle considered it sublime. The worthy captain took advantage of this enthusiasm to charge us double for the passage. But we did not trouble ourselves about such trifles.

“Be on board on Tuesday, at seven in the morning,” said Captain Bjarne, after having pocketed a considerable number of dollars.

We then thanked Mr. Thomson for his kindness, and returned to the Hotel Phoenix.

“It’s going well! It’s going very well!” my uncle repeated. “What a fortunate coincidence that we’ve found this ship that’s ready to leave! Now let’s have breakfast and go visit the town.”

We went first to Kongens Nytorv, an irregular square with a pedestal and two innocent cannons that aim at something but frighten no one. Close by, at No.5, there was a French “restaurant,” kept by a chef called Vincent; we had a sufficient breakfast for the moderate price of four marks each.r

I then took a childish pleasure in exploring the city; my uncle let me take him with me, but he took notice of nothing, neither the insignificant royal palace, nor the pretty seventeenth-century bridge that spans the canal in front of the museum, nor that immense cenotaph of Thorvaldsen’s,s decorated with horrible murals, which contains a collection of the sculptor’s works, nor the toylike chateau of Rosenberg, nor the beautiful Renaissance building of the Stock Exchange, nor its spire composed of the twisted tails of four bronze dragons, nor the great windmill on the ramparts whose huge arms swelled in the sea breeze like the sails of a ship.

What delicious walks we would have had together, my pretty Virland girl and I, along the harbor where the double-deckers and the frigate slept peaceably under their red roofing, by the green banks of the strait, through the deep shades of the trees amongst which the fort is half concealed, where the cannons thrust their black necks between the branches of alder and willow!

But, alas! she was far away, my poor Graüben, and could I hope ever to see her again?

Meanwhile, whereas my uncle saw none of these delightful places, he was very much struck by the sight of a certain clock tower on the island of Amager, which forms the southwestern part of Copenhagen.

I was ordered to walk in that direction; I embarked on a small steamer which crosses the canals, and in a few minutes it landed at the quay of the dockyard.

After crossing a few narrow streets where some convicts, in part yellow and part grey trousers, were at work under the orders of the wardens, we arrived at the Vor Frelsers Kirke. There was nothing remarkable about the church. But there was a reason why its tall spire had attracted the professor’s attention. Starting from the platform, an external staircase wound around the spire, the spirals circling up into the sky.

“Let’s go up,” said my uncle.

“But the vertigo?” I replied.

“All the more reason, we must get used to it.”

“But—”

“Come, I tell you, let’s not waste time.”

I had to obey. A guard who lived at the other end of the street handed us the key, and the ascent began.

My uncle went ahead with a lively step. I followed him not without terror, because unfortunately my head turned dizzy very easily. I had neither an eagle’s balance nor his steely nerves.

As long as we were enclosed on the interior staircase, everything went well; but after a hundred and fifty steps fresh air hit me in the face, and we were on the platform of the tower. There the aerial staircase began, only guarded by a thin rail, and the narrowing steps seemed to ascend into infinite space.

“I’ll never be able to do it!” I exclaimed.

“What kind of a coward are you? Up!” the professor replied mercilessly.

I had to follow, clinging to every step. The keen air made me dizzy; I felt the spire rocking with every gust of wind; my legs began to fail; soon I crawled on my knees, then on my stomach; I closed my eyes; I had space sickness.

At last, my uncle dragging me by the collar, I reached the ball.

“Look down!” he exclaimed. “Look down carefully! We must take lessons in abysses.”

 

Ragged clouds drifted over my head.

007

I opened my eyes. I saw the houses flattened as if they had been squashed by a fall, in the midst of a fog of smoke. Ragged clouds drifted over my head, and through an optical inversion they seemed stationary, while the steeple, the ball and I were all moving along with fantastic speed. Far away on one side was the green country, on the other the sea sparkled under beams of sunlight. The Sound stretched away to Elsinore,t dotted with a few white sails, like sea-gulls’ wings; and in the misty east and away to the northeast lay outstretched the faintly-shadowed shores of Sweden. All this immensity of space whirled before my eyes.

Nevertheless I had to get up, stand straight, look. My first lesson in vertigo lasted an hour. When I finally got permission to go down and touch the solid street pavements with my feet, I was aching all over.

“We’ll start over again tomorrow,” said the professor.

And indeed, for five days, I repeated this vertiginous exercise, and willy-nilly, I made noticeable progress in the art of “lofty contemplations.”

IX

THE DAY OF OUR departure arrived. On the eve, the kind Mr. Thomson had brought us urgent letters of introduction to Count Trampe, the Governor of Iceland, Mr. Pictursson, the bishop’s suffragan, and Mr. Finsen, mayor of Reykjavik. By way of thanks, my uncle gave him his warmest handshake.

On the 2nd, at six in the morning, all our precious luggage was put aboard the Valkyrie. The captain led us to rather narrow cabins under the deck.

“Do we have favorable winds?” my uncle asked.

“Excellent,” replied Captain Bjarne; “wind from the south-east. We’ll leave the Sound full speed, with all sails set.”

A few moments later the schooner, under her mizzen, brigantine, topsail, and topgallant sails, loosed from her moorings and ran at full sail through the strait. An hour later, the capital of Denmark seemed to sink below the distant waves, and the Valkyrie skirted the coast of Elsinore.