Black Diamonds

Mór Jókai

Description

pubOne.info thank you for your continued support and wish to present you this new edition. We are in the depths of an underground cavern. It is bad enough to be underground, but here we are all enveloped in black as well: the ceiling is black, so are the walls; they are made of blocks of coal. The floor is one great black looking-glass. It is a sort of pond, polished as steel. Over this polished surface glistens the reflection of a solitary light, the light of a safety-lamp shining through a wire net.

Informations

• Publié par: Pub One Info
• Date de parution: 27 septembre 2010
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9782819925866
• Langue: English

Extrait

BLACK DIAMONDS
A Novel
TRANSLATED BY
FRANCES A. GERARD
NEW YORK
HARPER & BROTHERS PUBLISHERS
Copyright, 1896, by HARPER & BROTHERS.
All rights reserved.
BLACK DIAMONDS
CHAPTER I
A BLACK PLACE
We are in the depths of an underground cavern. It isbad enough to be underground, but here we are all enveloped inblack as well: the ceiling is black, so are the walls; they aremade of blocks of coal. The floor is one great black looking-glass.It is a sort of pond, polished as steel. Over this polished surfaceglistens the reflection of a solitary light, the light of asafety-lamp shining through a wire net.
A man guides himself over the pond in a narrow boat.By the doubtful light of the lamp he sees high pillars, which riseout of the depths below and reach to the very roof of the cavern—pillars slender, like the columns of a Moorish palace. Thesepillars are half white and half black; up to a certain point onlyare they coal black, beyond that they are light in color.
What are these pillars?
They are the stems of pines and palm-trees. Thesegigantic stems are quite at home in the layers over the coal-mine,but how have they descended here? They belong to another world— theworld of light and air. The coal layers overhead sometimes takefire of themselves, and the fire, being intense, has loosened thehold of these giants and sent them below.
Coal-pits kindle of themselves often, as everynovice knows, but in this case who extinguished the flames? That isthe question.
The solitary occupant of the rudely shaped boat orcanoe goes restlessly here and there, up and down. He is a man ofabout thirty years, with a pale face and a dark beard. His firmlyclosed lips give him an expression of earnestness, or strong,decided will; while his forehead, which is broad, with large bumpsover the eyes, shows that he is a deep thinker. His head isuncovered, for here in this vault the air is heavy, and his curlyblack hair is in thick masses, so that he needs no covering.
What is he doing here?
He drives his boat over the black looking-glass ofthe lake; round and round he goes, searching the black walls withanxiety, his lamp raised in his disengaged hand. Does he imaginethat a secret is hidden there? Does he think that by touching aspring, and saying “Open Sesame, ” the treasure hidden there forhundreds of years will spring forth?
In truth, he does find treasures. Here and therefrom the black wall— weakly constructed in some places by Nature'shand— a piece of stone loosens itself— upon it the impression of aleaf belonging to a long-ago-extinct species. A wonderful treasurethis! In other places he comes upon unknown crystals, to whichscience has not as yet given a name; or upon a new conglomerationof different quartz, metal, and stone— a silent testimony to aconvulsion of Nature before this world was. All these witnessesspeak.
The pillars, too; over them the water of the pondhas by degrees formed a crustation of crystals, small, but visibleeven without a glass. This, too, gives testimony.
The pond is in itself wonderful. It has ebb andflow: twice in the day it empties itself; twice in the day itfills. The water rushes in leaps and bounds, joyously,tumultuously, into this dark, sullen vault; fills it higher,higher, until it reaches the point on the pillars where the colorchanges. There it remains, sometimes for two hours, stationary,smooth, and placid as a glass. Then it begins to sink, slowly,surely, until it vanishes away into the secret hiding-places fromwhence it has come. Curious, mysterious visitor! The man in theboat knows its ways; he has studied them. He waits patiently,until, with a sullen, gurgling sound, as if lamenting thenecessity, the last current of water vanishes behind a projectingmass of coal. Then he hurriedly casts off his coat, his shoes, hisstockings; he has nothing on but his shirt and trousers. He fastensround him a leather pocket, in which is a hammer and chisel; hetakes his safety-lamp and fastens it to his belt; and, so equipped,he glides into one of the fissures in the black rock. He isfollowing the vanishing stream. He is a courageous man to undertakesuch a task, for his way lies through the palace of death. It needsa heart of stone to be there alone in the awful silence. It is astrong motive that brings him. He is seeking the secret which liesunder seven seals, the treasure which Nature has concealed forthousands of years. But this man knows not what fear is. He remainsthree hours seeking. If he had any one— a wife, a sister, even afaithful servant, who knew where he was, what danger he was in, howtheir souls would have gone out in agony of fear for what mighthappen!
But he has no one; he is alone— always alone. Thereis no one to weep for his absence or to be joyful at his coming;his life is solitary, in the clear air of daylight as well as inthe depths of the cavern.
The vanished stream is as capricious as a coquettishmaiden, as full of tricks and humors. Sometimes it does not showitself for three or four hours; at other moments it comesfrolicking back in one, and woe to the unfortunate wight who iscaught in its embrace in the narrow windings of the coal-vault! Butthis man knows the humors of the stream; he has studied them. Heand it are old acquaintances; he knows the signs upon which he candepend, and he knows how long the pause will last. He can gauge itsduration by the underground wind. When it whistles through theclefts and fissures, then he knows the stream is at hand. Should hewait until the shrill piping ceases, then he is a dead man.
In the darkness a ghostly sound is heard— it is likea long-drawn sigh, the far-away sobbing of an Æolian harp; andimmediately the shimmer of the lamp is seen coming nearer andnearer, and in a minute the mysterious searcher of the hiddensecret appears.
His countenance is paler than before— deathly; anddrops of sweat course down his forehead and cheeks. Down below theair must be heavier in the cavern, or the nightmare of the abysshas caused this cold damp. He throws his well-filled wallet intothe boat, and seats himself in it again.
It was time. Scarcely has he taken his place when agurgling is heard, and out of the fissures of the rock comes a gushof black water, shooting forth with a loud, bubbling noise. Thenfollows a few minutes' pause, and again another gush of water. Thecavern is filling rapidly. In a short time, over the smooth surfaceof the wall, the watermark shows itself. Clear as a looking-glassit rises, noiselessly, surely, until it has reached the black lineupon the pillars.
The boat, with its silent, watchful occupant, floatsupon the water like the ghost of the cavern. The water is not likeordinary water; it is heavy like metal. The boat moves slowly, onlynow the rower does not care to look into the depths of the blacklooking-glass; he pays no attention to the mysterious signs on thewalls. He is occupied taking stock of the air about him, which isgrowing denser every moment, and he looks carefully at hissafety-lamp, but it is closely shut. No escape there.
There is a great fog all round the lamp. The air inthis underground abyss takes a blue shade. The man in the boatknows well what this means. The flame of the safety-lamp flareshigh, and the wick turns red— bad signs these! The angel of deathis hovering near.
Two spirits dwell in these subterranean regions— twofearfully wicked spirits. The pitmen call one Stormy Weather, theother Bad Weather; and these two evil spirits haunt everycoal-mine, under different names. Bad Weather steals upon itsvictim, lies like a thick vapor upon his chest, follows the minerstep by step, takes away his breath and his speech, laughs at hisalarm, and vanishes, when it has reached its height, just assuddenly as it came. Stormy Weather is far more cruel— fearful. Itcomes like a whirlwind; it sets everything in a flame, kindles thelumps of coal, shatters the vaults, destroys the shaft, burns theground, and dashes human beings to pieces. Those who gain theirlivelihood by working underground can never tell when they may meetone or other of these evil spirits.
The secret of “stormy weather, ” whence it comes,when it may come, no man has yet discovered. It is believed that itarises from the contact of the hydrogen gases with the acid gaseswhich are contained in the open air; and “bad weather” needs only aspark to turn into “stormy weather. ” The thoughtless opening of asafety-lamp, the striking of a match, is sufficient to fuse the twoevil spirits into one.
The solitary man whom we have been shadowing sees,with an anxiety that increases every moment, how the air becomesmore and more the color of an opal. Already it is enveloping him ina thin cloud. He does not wait for the flood to rise to its highestpoint, for, when he reaches a place in the wall where a sort oflanding-stage has been made, he jumps upon it, draws the boat byits chain, and moors it fast, and then, ascending by some rudesteps to a strong iron door, he opens it with a key, and, closingit behind him, finds himself in a passage which leads him straightinto the pit.
Here he is in a busy world, very different from thesolitude he has left. The streets, which are narrow and close, arefull of miners hard at work with their hammers. The men are nearlynaked, the boys who push the wagons are wholly so. There is nosound heard but that of the never-ceasing hammers. In the minethere are no jolly songs, no hearty laughter. Over the mouth ofeach miner a thick cloth is tied, through which he breathes.
Some of the passages are so narrow that the workeris obliged to lie upon his back, and in this position to reach thecoal with his pick. When he has loosened it he drops it into thelittle wagon, which the naked boys, crawling upon their stomachs,push before them to the opening.
The man who has come out of the dark cavern does notdiffer in dress from any of the others. He is clothed, certainly,but his clothes are covered with coal-dust, his hands