Rugel made a sign to his companions to stay where they were, and he advanced on his own, slowly, toward the unknown man.
The latter had not moved. His eyes, wide with alarm, were staring; his face expressed a superstitious dread. He was doubtless wondering whether these beings, who had appeared so suddenly, were celestial creatures come to hasten the last hour of the slow destruction. His limbs were agitated by a convulsive tremor.
Rugel advanced until he was close enough to touch him.
He appeared to be between thirty and thirty-five years of age. His face, pale and emaciated, bore the traces of long suffering; his intelligent eyes were veiled by a habitual sadness; his taut lips seemed never to have broadened in a smile. Beneath his garments, made of a coarse fabric, his limbs could be divined, thin but nevertheless robust.
“My brother,” Rugel said to him, “the Sovereign Spirit has permitted us to reach you, in order to save you from the fate that is threatening you. Rejoice: your troubles are at an end.”
The unknown man did not appear to understand. Overwhelmed by emotion, he was distraught, and murmuring something like a vague prayer.
In the words that he pronounced Rugel recognized, to his great surprise, an ancient language that the inhabitants of the Moon had spoken when they lived on the surface of the planet, which had fallen into disuse a long time ago, and was now only studied by scientists as a dead language.
Rugel was familiar with that ancient language. He made use of it to reassure the man who was so frightened by the sight of him.
“Have no fear,” he said. “We are not beings descended from the sky to harm you. Like you, we are human beings. We have come, through a thousand perils, from the distant regions where the remnants of the human race who once lived on this world, now condemned to death, still survive in security and the abundance of all good things. We are your friends, your brothers; speak to us without fear. Are you the only representative of the forgotten race in this lost valley? Do you have companions—a family? It is salvation that we bring you.”
While he was speaking the face of the unknown man had cleared, and it was now illuminated by a profound joy. He had immediately been reassured to hear the newcomer speaking in a language he understood, and his heart was opening to hope.
“Stranger,” he said, “I don’t yet know how or why you and your companions have come into the place whose approaches are all defended by death, but the sound of your voice and the expression of your features inspires confidence. You have before you a member of the last family that still populates these solitudes. My father, my brother and a younger sister are, with me, all that remains of a once-numerous and prosperous humankind. Bound for an imminent death, we were awaiting with resignation the moment to join those we have loved and who have preceded us to the grave. Your arrival gives birth in my heart to hopes to which I dare not abandon myself.”
All that was said in a soft and melancholy voice, and Rugel was astonished to find in that disinherited being such a nobility of sentiment and so firm an acceptance of the fate to which he was condemned.
“Count on us,” he said. “We shall do everything possible to save you.”
At a sign from him, Marcel, Jacques and Lord Rodilan came closer.
“These are my companions,” said Rugel. “Like me, they are committed to removing you and your relatives from your sad condition. Take us to those who are dear to you.”
The unknown man gazed at him with eyes veiled by tears. “Oh,” he murmured, “will it be permissible for me to believe in better days for those I love? May mercy be granted to you, who have made that gleam of hope shine in our darkness.”
None of the others knew the language that the unknown man was speaking, but Rugel served as his interpreter, and in response to the testaments of sympathy that they lavished upon him, his face brightened with a joy that he had not known for a long time.
“Before introducing you to our dwelling,” he said, “Let me warn my family. My father is crippled by age, my sister frail and delicate, like a plant that flowers sadly in this desolate earth. Too sharp an emotion, too sudden a joy, might be fatal to them. Follow me, but pause a short distance from where we live. I’ll go in alone, and tell you when I’ve prepared for your reception.”
In the meantime, on Rugel’s orders, the Diemides stopped to, wait for them, and they set forth, emerging into an extensive plain. The unknown pointed at a small hill on the horizon. “It’s behind that hill,” he said, “that the dwelling stands which shelters what remains of our sad race.”
While they were walking toward it he told them how, for many generations, life had been diminishing in this prison of sorts, from which it had been condemned never to emerge.
“Once,” he said, “our ancestors lived here peacefully, isolated from the rest of the world. Having no needs, they led a tranquil existence, unaware of what was happening around them. Gradually, however, as a result of long and gradual changes, the conditions of life became harsher. The air seemed to lose some of its vital properties, the water in the valleys diminished, the temperature dropped, and during the long nights, the cold became absolutely intolerable. Those whose constitution was less robust died first; villages were depopulated; the number of families decreased, and it as soon impossible to avoid the realization that we were condemned to imminent extinction.
“Not knowing what the cause was of the disasters and ruination, our father thought about leaving the place where they had lived and emigrating to more hospitable regions, but it was impossible to escape. When anyone climbed the mountains surrounding us, the air became inadequate after a few hours to sustain exhausted lungs. To go any higher would have been certain and rapid death. It was necessary to come back down and resign ourselves to a slow and inevitable extinction.
“When my father was young, there were still two or three families struggling painfully against destruction, but my father saw them disappear successively, and we’re the sole survivors. I saw my mother die, a victim of the pitiless climate, in despair at the thought that those she loved would die as miserably as her.”
As he spoke, Rugel translated what the stranger was saying for his companions. They were all saddened by the story of that long suffering; their hearts overflowed with tenderness, and they congratulated themselves for having arrived in time to snatch away the deplorable victims on whom death seemed to have set a fatal seal.
They had crossed the plain and reached the foot of the hill. The unknown man asked those accompanying him to wait for a few moments.
Jacques had difficulty containing the emotion that was causing him a poignant distress. Even Lord Rodilan was gripped by it. “Oh, the poor devils!” he said. “But how, friend Rugel, were your ancestors able to forget these people when they took refuge in the caverns that you inhabit today? That was surely culpable negligence.”
“Friend,” said Rugel, “lunar humankind did not quit the surface of our globe all at once and at the same time. Our subterranean emigration was accomplished slowly, little by little. Many generations went by before it was complete, and doubtless those who were most obstinate in remaining in the light of day, and only gave in regretfully to an imperious necessity, were unaware of the existence of those they left behind. Nothing in the traditions that have been handed down to us makes any mention of these forgotten families. Be certain that had it been otherwise, we would already have made every attempt to save them.”
The unknown came back hastily. “Come,” he said to them. “My family is waiting for you, as liberators.”
As they went round the hill a heavy and massive construction came into view, whose good state of conservation contrasted with the ruined buildings that surrounded it. It was enclosed by thick walls designed to protect the inhabitants against the rigors of cold. The door was small, the windows narrow; it was like a lair in which discouraged beings who had nothing good to expect from life were sheltering from the threats of a hostile nature.
By the flickering light of a fire t
hat was completing the consumption of a few logs, they perceived an old man with a bald head and a long white beard lying on a crude bed, who appeared scarcely able to move his wasted limbs. Standing beside him and holding his hands were a young man with energetic features, who seemed to be about twenty-five years old, and a young woman with blonde hair and symmetrical features, whose unhealthily pale face took on a faint blush as the newcomers approached. She seemed scarcely out of adolescence. Both of them fixed Rugel and his friends with avid gazes; hope, a long time lost, had reentered their hearts.
“Bless you, whoever you are,” said the old man, in a tremulous voice, raising himself up with an effort, “who are bringing a ray of light into our darkness. I shall die happy if I can have the consolation of thinking, as I expire, that the children I love will escape the fate that menaces them.”
The two young people extended supplicant hands toward Rugel.
“You shall not die, Father,” said Rugel. “We will take you away from this accursed place, and you will live for long years, to witness the happiness of your children.”
“My days are numbered,” said the old man. “Even if I could, I would not want to quit this land in which my ancestors are buried; I want to sleep my final slumber beside the companion of my life. Let the young folk depart with you, if you have the means to take them away. Their life is in flower, the future belongs to them.”
On hearing these words the faces of the two young men had darkened, and the young woman’s eyes had filled with tears.
The condition of the old man, weakened by long suffering, scarcely permitted Rugel to think of taking him away. He was in no condition to support the fatigues of such a journey; to impose them on him would have been a needless cruelty. Furthermore, life was gradually abandoning him; no one could be under any illusion as to his condition; he would soon reach the end of his sad existence.
A few days went by.
The most intelligent and active of the Diemides were given the task of exploring the whole region and compiling an exact account of it. Rugel and his three friends did not want to leave the unfortunates that they had discovered so miraculously, and took up residence in the dwelling where they would have ended their lives if deliverance had not come.
In their long conversations by the bedside of the moribund old man, they told their new friends how lunar humankind, expelled from the surface of the globe, had found a refuge in the immense caverns of the interior. They gave an account of the new, somewhat artificial world in which they lived, describing their arts, their sciences, and painting a cheerful picture of the happy and tranquil existence that awaited them, assuring them of a future exempt from worries, offering them the hope of friends and families.
The old man, who felt life slipping away slowly, smiled at the enchanting images, and his heart was filled with joy in thinking that his children would be able to enjoy long days of happiness and live again in their descendants.
XIV. The End of the Voyage
In spite of the vigor of their constitution, however, the newcomers were beginning to feel the deleterious influences of the impoverished environment in which they had been living for some time. Their respiration became less facile, their strength diminished. They had to quit the ill-fated place soon.
Only Lord Rodilan seemed unaffected by the commencement of illness whose effects his companions were feeling. An unexpected change had taken place in him. He was been keenly touched by the charm emanated by the frail child that hazard had put in his presence. Her face, with its symmetrical and pure features, her large blue eyes, whose expression, ordinarily sad and melancholy, sometimes gave way to a sudden radiance, like a soul protesting against a cruel and unjust fate, her long ash-blonde hair and her supple and harmonious body, etiolated by the inexorable climate, all had an impression on him which surprised him. He felt moved by an entirely novel pity for the young person who had already endured so much.
All that he had of repressed affection suddenly came to light; a loving faculty of which he had been unaware had awakened in his heart, and he had been attracted to the child by an entirely paternal tenderness. He surrounded her with the most attentive and devoted care, seemingly striving to anticipate her desires, and, by means of the few words of her language that he had learned, trying to make her glimpse a better future.
That sympathy had not escaped the young woman’s notice; with the sure instinct of weak individuals who can recognize reliably when they are loved, she sought out the society of her new friend. It was him to whom she had recourse in all circumstances, on whose arm she leaned most willingly in the excursions that they made in order to obtain, before leaving, a more complete idea of that strange region.
The change that had overtaken their companion had not escaped Jacques and Marcel either, and they smiled to see the man they had known so cold and so entire in his willful insensitivity humanize himself thus for that feeble creature.
Only the desperate state of the old man delayed the departure of Rugel and his associates. They soon understood that the final hour was about to sound, and that he only had a few more moments to live. He knew that his end was nigh, and awaited the redoubtable visitor without weakness.
“You have given me a joy to which I would never have dared aspire,” he said, addressed Rugel and his three friends. “Your courage and audacity have guided you through a thousand perils to this sad place to accomplish a work of salvation. I’m departing in tranquility; I know that, thanks to you, these children will be saved. I entrust them to you and I die blessing you. May the Sovereign Spirit watch over them and over you.”
Everyone was emotional; the young woman and her brother sobbed.
The old man’s death left an impression of sadness in all their hearts. All the Diemides who had remained behind were recalled, and it was in the midst of a cortège such as the ruins and solitudes had been long unaccustomed to seeing that he was taken to his final resting-place.
He was buried in the modest field of rest in which he had dug the tombs of his forebears. A crudely carved stone monument marked the place where the woman with whom he had shared the anguishes of his life was asleep. They laid him to rest alongside those venerated remains, and the stone of the sepulcher—the last that the abandoned ground would receive—sealed it forever.
The despair of the two young men and their sister was great, and although they understood that they could not delay their departure much longer without peril, it seemed to them that they could not tear themselves away from the place where they had suffered so much, and where the man they have loved so tenderly now rested.
It was, however, necessary to go.
It was already more than four months since the voyagers had quit the observatory. Marcel, Jacques and Lord Rodilan had not lost sight of their return to Earth and did not want to put it off.
For some time, in anticipation of the length of the journey they had to undertake, the last survivors of the destroyed world had been initiated into the usage of the apparatus of which they would have to take advantage. Rugel had taken the precaution of including spare suits among the baggage, in case of possible accidents.
It was customary among the inhabitants of the Moon, whenever they undertook any excursion to the airless surface to take with them with all the equipment necessary to guard against the unexpected, and their routine procedure was quite simple. As soon as any damage was manifest in any of the suits, the person wearing it was immediately enclosed in a kind of small tent, hermetically sealed and impermeable, which, inflated by the air furnished by the reservoirs carried by the Diemides, offered sufficient space for the threatened apparatus to be taken off and another put on.
The moment of departure arrived. In order to climb the side of the immense depression, they chose the place where the slope was most gradual. Rugel was concerned to conserve the strength of the frail child he was taking with them, and whom Lord Rodilan had loudly declared that he was taking under his protection.
Before reaching the l
ayer of clouds—which is to say, when the air began to become unbreathable—they put on the traveling apparatus, and in spite of her grief, the young woman could not help smiling when she saw herself thus clad.
They emerged on the crest of the cliff, some distance to the north of the place where they had contrived the descent, and headed westwards. First they had to cross the vast desolate plain forming the superior plateau, the traversal of which had been so painful for the voyagers. Now they were returning to the habitable regions, however, they were happy at the thought of reentering the living world they had quit; they had succeeded in the boldest of enterprises, and saved from frightful death unfortunate individuals condemned to perish. In consequence, their stride was firm and triumphant.
All the past sufferings were forgotten; the certainty of the goal to be attained had reaffirmed all hearts.
The surprise that the strange journey caused their new friends was an occasion for interesting studies on the part of Rugel and his companions. Everything was so new and unexpected for them in that extinct world of whose existence they had had no suspicion. That singular fashion of traveling, in suits that permitted them to move and breathe easily in an environment in which all life appeared impossible, was a continuous source of wonder for them. Their naïve astonishment gave rise to endless questions, to which the three inhabitants of Earth, proud of their new knowledge, did their best to reply.
It was necessary, most of all, to see Lord Rodilan in the new role that he had taken on with regard to the young woman whose paternal guardian he had become. He watched over her with a jealous care, not leaving anyone else the right to approach her, supporting her when she weakened, even carrying her in his strong arms when her gait betrayed some fatigue, responding with unalterable patience to all her questions. An attentive mother could not have shown more tenderness and devotion.
When the desert was traversed, Rugel decided to avoid the basaltic region where they had had so much difficulty. He therefore directed the caravan northwards, so as to go around the redoubtable massif. The route would doubtless be longer, but they would make up the lost time because there would be fewer obstacles to overcome and move more rapidly.
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