Having arrived at the observatory they headed without hesitation for the observation hall, where they were sure to find those they sought. Thanks to the apparatus they were wearing, they were able to traverse the deadly atmosphere with impunity.
The four bodies were lying on the floor, showing no sign of life. Without waiting to discover whether they were still breathing they picked them up and carried them to the elevator, which immediately went back down. During the journey the cares that their condition required were lavished on the four unfortunates: doses of ozone expertly graduated with the aid of improved inhalers; massages with energetic reagents; rhythmic pressures on the thoracic region—everything was put to work to bring back the life that appeared to be extinct.
Merovar, whose constitution was quite different from that of his three companions in terms of the development of his respiratory apparatus, which offered more resistance to intoxication via the airways, had already shown a few signs of life before the elevator reached the ground, but nothing could extract the three inhabitants of the Earth from their unconsciousness.
They were transported to a large room whose large windows permitted generous aeration, and the active and intelligent treatments that had proved futile thus far were continued there.
Rugel, in particular, was anxious and troubled.
“The unfortunates!” he said. “What terrible imprudence—or rather, what sublime obstinacy! Are they going to perish, then, without reaping the fruits of their efforts? Provided that Azali arrives in time...” Turning to one of the scientists who were attending to the three friends, he said: “I’ve summoned the skilful Azali; he’ll be able to tell us whether any chance remains of reviving them—here he comes now...”
He went to meet the newcomer.
Azali was a man in his prime. His high forehead denoted a meditative turn of mind, and his eyes sparkled with the keenest intelligence; his features were grave and gentle. He had studied the sciences of life in depth and was justly reputed to be one of the most knowledgeable individuals with regard to all questions related o the organism.
When he arrived, Merovar had already recovered the use of his senses and was taking account of what was happening around him, but, still weakened by the shock to his entire system, he was unable to do anything but watch the efforts made to save his friends, an emotional but impotent spectator.
Azali approached the three bodies, which were lying on a broad couch, and ordered that their clothing should be removed. He examined them carefully, and then, straightening up again, said: “All hope isn’t lost, but we need to hurry.”
He made a sign to a young Diemide who had accompanied him. The latter went away, and came back with three special devices that Azali had taken care to equip himself in anticipation of their possible necessity. Each apparatus consisted of a king of cage formed by metallic wires closely fitted to the thorax, disposed in such a fashion as to allow free movement. The wires were arranged in such a way that their tips rested on the muscles whose contraction and extension determined the movements of aspiration and respiration in a living being. An electric current, of an intensity proportional to the result to be attained, acted with the aid of the wires on the muscles of the breast, thus determining an artificial respiration of perfect regularity.
The three inanimate bodies were fitted with these devices, which, under the influence of the electric fluid, immediately began to function. The physiologist followed the operation with an attentive gaze. At the same time, inhalers set in motion with minute care caused the breasts of the patients to be penetrated with beneficent waves of ozone, designed to replace the vitiated air in the lungs and purify the tainted organs.
That patient and assiduous work went on for several hours. Nothing changed in Marcel’s cadaverous appearances, but Jacques and Lord Rodilan seemed to be slowly coming back to life. Their skin was more supple and less cold, their cheeks colored with an almost rosy tint, and their eyes, whose lids Azali lifted from time to time, became less vitreous. Their pulse, previously insensible, began to make itself felt.
“There’s no longer any danger to their lives,” said Azali, straightening up. Leaving the others to care for those two, he returned to Marcel.
The engineer was still in the same condition; all appearances of life seemed to have abandoned him, and in spite of the action of the electric currents, the artificial respiration was still ineffective.
He absorbed more poisonous gases than his companions,” the physiologist murmured. “It’s the toxic effects that we have to combat.”
He had anticipated the possibility. Arming himself with a small metallic instrument analogous to the syringes used on Earth for hypodermic injections, he injected a colorless liquid deeply into the muscular tissue of Marcel’s left side; it had a powerful antitoxic effect. The pain of the insertion had not caused the patient the slightest shudder, but soon, under the action of the injected agent, the heart, whose movements seemed to have ceased, resumed beating feebly. At the same time, the circulation of the blood resumed its activity, determining respiratory movements.
Azali’s somber features cleared. “Courage!” he said. “We’ll save him.”
He gave the patient two further injections, and after each of them, the vital movements were seen to revive and accelerate.
After an hour, Marcel too was out of danger.
Rugel, who had followed that struggle of science against death with emotional attention, shook Azali’s hand; his face was radiant with joy.
“Don’t rejoice too soon, my friend,” the other replied. “Their material life is assured, but the poison they’ve absorbed has acted profoundly on their organism, principally on the brain, the center of all thought and sensibility. They’ll need time and a great deal of care before they recover the free exercise of their functions and the integrity of their intellectual faculties.”
“I’ll take responsibility for that,” Rugel replied.
And it was thus that the three friends were transported to the tranquil refuge where their recovery was to be completed.
II. A Love without Issue
Azali’s anticipations were realized.
Thanks to the devoted care of which they were the object, Marcel and his two friends recovered their physical health fairly promptly, but a strange phenomenon had been produced. Under the influence of the poison that had invaded their bodies, their intelligence remained torpid, as if their minds were plunged into profound darkness. Their memories had disappeared; they could only string ideas together in a confused fashion; even their sensory perceptions were incoherent, as if incomplete.
To put it briefly, it seemed that their brain had become a tabula rasa in which nothing remained of acquired notions and stored ideas. They were like children opening new and candid souls to the impressions of life; they had to relearn everything.
It was a spectacle that was both singular and sad to see those robust men, in the full maturity of life, become ignorant again, as timid and hesitant as little children on the threshold of existence.
During the days that followed the terrible shock, they had been the object of the most vigilant solicitude on the part of Rugel’s daughter.
Like all the other inhabitants of the lunar world, she knew their story and had not been able to help feeling a sentiment of profound admiration for the men who had made such a heroic sacrifice of their lives. She wanted to supervise the care that was given to them personally. She followed the rapid progress of their resurrection with an emotional gaze, and when she saw that, in spite of the return of physical health, their minds were delayed in recovering all their power and lucidity, she was profoundly troubled, and admitted as much to Azali.
The young scientist had been the friend of her heart for some time. They had lived side by side and, in that world where sentiments developed in complete freedom, without any propriety ever constraining them, they had been attracted to one another and had abandoned themselves to the charms of a shared affection. As they had nothi
ng to hide, and could not hide anything of what they were experiencing, Rugel was aware of that reciprocal penchant as soon as it was born. Everything about that love, which bore no resemblance to Earthly passions, was pure, simple and honest. That was how things happened in that privileged milieu; in all probability, they would soon be married and found a new family around Rugel.
The accident that had befallen the inhabitants of Earth had brought the young woman even closer to the man that everyone who knew her already considered to be her fiancé.
Retained by the cares of which the three patients were the object, Azali rarely went far from the house to which they had been transported. The time that he did not spend with them he devoted to the one that his heart had chosen.
When Rugel was recalled to the capital by his duties, they often went for walks along the shores of the enchanted island or through the flowery arbors with which it was covered, doing so with the innocence and liberty of mores in which nothing impure ever germinated. Their conversations, grave and lively by turns, revealed the serenity of their souls and their calm confidence in the future.
Orealis displayed none of the tricks of coquetry, the clever maneuvers and studied provocations with which feminine shrewdness is exercised down here, when it is a matter of making sure, in the quest for a husband, of the conquest of a fine name or a brilliant fortune. And on Azali’s part, there was nothing resembling the protestations of love that sometimes ring so false, the conventional exaggerations, the insipid and vulgar compliments beneath which, on Earth, dryness of heart and baseness of desires are so often concealed.
One day, in the course of their customary stroll, Orealis interrogated the young scientist on the subject that had begun to preoccupy her some time before. “My friend,” she said, “I’m wondering with some anxiety whether we ought to rejoice at having snatched from death those it had already seized. Their bodies appear to have recovered a condition of health, but the state of their minds troubles and torments me. They seem to have retreated to the first phase of life; they have no more strength or scope than a child. Are they, then, doomed remain forever immure in that intellectual limbo? If so, we’ve only saved them to condemn them an existence unworthy of them, and utterly miserable.”
“I too am troubled by the condition I see them in,” Azali replied, sadly. “I know that the shock they experienced was profound, but I didn’t think they were so gravely affected. Their memory of the past seems to have been almost completely abolished; they’re entirely restricted to fleeting momentary impressions. What it’s necessary to do to return them to themselves is to reawaken, by every possible means, the effaced sentiment of their personality.
“It’s up to you, Orealis, good and gentle as you are, already so maternal in their regard, to make the memories that have been temporarily suppressed revive, by reminding them of the events through which they’ve passed. By that means, their intelligence will develop more rapidly and they’ll soon recover the sentiment of their great designs and the will to pursue them, thanks to your generous influence.”
“May the Sovereign Spirit hear you,” Orealis murmured, having become pensive.
From then on she devoted herself entirely to the curative process she had undertaken. It was a charming and melancholy thing to see that tall and beautiful young woman becoming the patient and devoted instructress of the three men, bronzed by such rude vicissitudes, reverted to infancy, who listened to her avidly as to an elder sister.
In the marvelous stories that she adapted to their minds with an ingenious skill, the young woman caused them to relive before her eyes the terrible ordeals through which they had passed, the works that they had accomplished, and the hopes they had conceived. Gradually, the consciousness of their identity reawakened. They remaining hanging on her lips; sometimes, their eyebrows as if, in some labor on interior reflection, a corner of the veil that still hid reality from them had torn, and the moment could already be foreseen when they would recover full possession of themselves.
But it was Marcel in particular, more than his two friends, who seemed to be subject to the young woman’s magnetic influence. The sound of her voice threw him into a kind of ecstasy; the charm that emanated from her entire person acted upon him irresistibly; confused movements of which he could only take imperfect account agitated his heart. And when, having returned to himself, he asked himself what he had experienced, he wondered, not without a certain alarm, whether that delightful sentiment was only gratitude, or whether it merited a more tender name.
Soon, it was no longer possible for him to labor under any illusion. He was experiencing emotions hitherto unknown. His active and questing mind, which had never been impassioned by anything but the solution of scientific problems or the realization of some bold enterprise, seemed to have lost its initiative and its vigor. A kind of languorous lassitude had invaded him; he now delighted in allowing himself to be lulled by soft reveries. Birdsong and the harmony of the wind in the foliage delighted him, his overexcited imagination incessantly showed him the beautiful Orealis; he could not tear his thoughts away from her, and when he was apart from her he remained plunged in a melancholy whose sadness was not without charm.
There was no longer any doubt about it; he was in love with the young woman.
The moment when that truth appeared to him unclouded was cruel. He knew that Orealis was the fiancée of a man to whom he was indebted and, in the rectitude of his conscience, he shivered at the thought that he could not abandon himself to his love without showing an odious ingratitude. And then again, there were so many obstacles between himself and the one to whom his heart was drawn!
Even supposing that their souls were able to reach an understanding and that the sentiment he was experiencing could be shared, how could a union be possible between two beings so different in nature?
Marcel was too innately honest not to judge his new situation sanely. He tried bravely to combat the passion that was gradually overwhelming him. That struggle was the cause of painful torments for him.
He now avoided the presence that he had previously sought out, but he had forsaken, along with the ignorance of the state of his soul, the repose and tranquility of his mind.
The state of disturbance and uncertainty in which Marcel was struggling had not escaped the observation of his two friends. Jacques and Lord Rodilan, who had been afflicted in the same way as the young engineer, had passed through the same phases. Thanks to the attentive and devoted solicitude by which they had been surrounded, they too had gradually climbed back up the slope down which their reason had slid; they had recovered all the liberty of their intelligence. Jacques had recovered his generous ardors, Lord Rodilan his self-possession and the slightly disdainful calm from which he had only rarely departed since leaving the Earth.
They were troubled by Marcel’s strange sadness.
Its cause did not escape them for long; Jacques remembered what it had felt like when his own heart had opened to the love that now filled his entire being. That made his sympathy for Marcel all the greater and more affectionate.
As for the Englishman, what preoccupied him most of all was the question of the ultimate outcome of their enterprise. What would become of them if the natural leader of their expedition lost his lucidity of mind, and the energy necessary to see it through to the end, in a mad and unrealizable amour?
In spite of the singular adventures into which they had been thrown by his desire for new emotions and his disgust with the world that he knew too well, Lord Rodilan had not entirely rid himself of the man he had been before. The vicissitudes of the strange voyage had undoubtedly made his soul vibrate with sensations he had thought himself incapable of experiencing, and which had delighted him. The spectacle of this world, so different from the one he had quit, had not been able to leave him insensible, and more than once, in spite of his British phlegm and his desire not to be astonished by anything, he had felt surprised or gripped by admiration. That was something entirely new for a blasé ind
ividual like him, and it had moved him delightfully.
He had even promised himself to astonish the inhabitants of Earth in his turn—for he was counting on returning someday—with the description of this superior humankind, and it was for that reason that he had attached himself, with an ardor that even astonished him, to the study of the mores, institutions and history of the lunar world. And it was no slender satisfaction for his pride to think that, thanks to him, England would have its share of glory, and not the least, in the marvelous epic that would reveal to the Earth an unknown world, and would be the point of departure for an era of progress of which no one had so far dared to dream.
But if all that satisfied Lord Rodilan’s mind, there were other exigencies against which he struggled, sometimes not without suffering. Although he had previously affected to be indifferent to the pleasures of a well-supplied table, on the pretext that nothing could be new for his weary palate, he had not taken long to regret what he had once disdained. He had not adapted well to the chemical composition that sufficed for his friends, and to which he referred disdainfully as “scientific nourishment.” The attempts at cultivation made by Marcel, only a few of which had succeeded, furnished the three exiles from Earth with the cereals and legumes to which they were accustomed, but without any seasoning; and as all animal nourishment was forbidden to him, the unfortunate son of Albion suffered more every day in thinking about large slices of bloody roast beef, turtle soup and various pickles, the mere idea of which made his mouth water.
He was, therefore, thinking seriously about the return journey.
He had not yet talked to Marcel about it; he sensed that the young engineer might not welcome the idea so long as he had not realized the immediate goal of his enterprise—which is to say, establishing regular communications between the two planets. But if Marcel, surrendering himself to the tender sentiments that now seemed to be dominating him, were to lose sight of the project he had formed, the hope of returning might be postponed indefinitely. Even worse, if the engineer thought of devoting his life definitively to the woman he loved, what would become of his two companions?
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