LITMIR.BIZ

Скачать книгу

and fifty-five vowels. This is the proportion found in southern languages, whilst northern tongues are much richer in consonants; therefore this is in a southern language.”

      These were very fair conclusions, I thought.

      “But what language is it?”

      Here I looked for a display of learning, but I met instead with profound analysis.

      “This Saknussemm,” he went on, “was a very well-informed man; now since he was not writing in his own mother tongue, he would naturally select that which was currently adopted by the choice spirits of the sixteenth century; I mean Latin. If I am mistaken, I can but try Spanish, French, Italian, Greek, or Hebrew. But the savants of the sixteenth century generally wrote in Latin. I am therefore entitled to pronounce this, à priori, to be Latin. It is Latin.”

      I jumped up in my chair. My Latin memories rose in revolt against the notion that these barbarous words could belong to the sweet language of Virgil.

      “Yes, it is Latin,” my uncle went on; “but it is Latin confused and in disorder; ‘pertubata seu inordinata,‘ as Euclid has it.”

      “Very well,” thought I, “if you can bring order out of that confusion, my dear uncle, you are a clever man.”

      “Let us examine carefully,” said he again, taking up the leaf upon which I had written. “Here is a series of one hundred and thirty-two letters in apparent disorder. There are words consisting of consonants only, as nrrlls; others, on the other hand, in which vowels predominate, as for instance the fifth, uneeief, or the last but one, oseibo. Now this arrangement has evidently not been premeditated; it has arisen mathematically in obedience to the unknown law which has ruled in the succession of these letters. It appears to me a certainty that the original sentence was written in a proper manner, and afterwards distorted by a law which we have yet to discover. Whoever possesses the key of this cipher will read it with fluency. What is that key? Axel, have you got it?”

      I answered not a word, and for a very good reason. My eyes had fallen upon a charming picture, suspended against the wall, the portrait of Gräuben. My uncle’s ward was at that time at Altona, staying with a relation, and in her absence I was very downhearted; for I may confess it to you now, the pretty Virlandaise and the professor’s nephew loved each other with a patience and a calmness entirely German. We had become engaged unknown to my uncle, who was too much taken up with geology to be able to enter into such feelings as ours. Gräuben was a lovely blue-eyed blonde, rather given to gravity and seriousness; but that did not prevent her from loving me very sincerely. As for me, I adored her, if there is such a word in the German language. Thus it happened that the picture of my pretty Virlandaise threw me in a moment out of the world of realities into that of memory and fancy.

      There looked down upon me the faithful companion of my labours and my recreations. Every day she helped me to arrange my uncle’s precious specimens; she and I labelled them together. Mademoiselle Gräuben was an accomplished mineralogist; she could have taught a few things to a savant. She was fond of investigating abstruse scientific questions. What pleasant hours we have spent in study; and how often I envied the very stones which she handled with her charming fingers.

      Then, when our leisure hours came, we used to go out together and turn into the shady avenues by the Alster, and went happily side by side up to the old windmill, which forms such an improvement to the landscape at the head of the lake. On the road we chatted hand in hand; I told her amusing tales at which she laughed heartilv. Then we reached the banks of the Elbe, and after having bid good-bye to the swan, sailing gracefully amidst the white water lilies, we returned to the quay by the steamer.

      That is just where I was in my dream, when my uncle with a vehement thump on the table dragged me back to the realities of life.

      “Come,” said he, “the very first idea which would come into any one’s head to confuse the letters of a sentence would be to write the words vertically instead of horizontally.”

      “Indeed!” said I.

      “Now we must see what would be the effect of that, Axel; put down upon this paper any sentence you like, only instead of arranging the letters in the usual way, one after the other, place them in succession in vertical columns, so as to group them together in five or six vertical lines.”

      I caught his meaning, and immediately produced the following literary wonder:

       I

       y

       l

       o

       a

       u

       l

       o

       l

       w

       r

       b

       o

       u

       ,

       n

       G

       e

       v

       w

       m

       d

       r

       n

       e

       e

       y

       e

       a

       !

      “Good,” said the professor, without reading them, “now set down those words in a horizontal line.”

      I obeyed, and with this result:

       Iyloau lolwrb ou,nGe vwmdrn eeyea!

      “Excellent!” said my uncle, taking the paper hastily out of my hands. “This begins to look just like an ancient document: the vowels and the consonants are grouped together in equal disorder; there are even capitals in the middle of words, and commas too, just as in Saknussemm’s parchment.”

      I considered these remarks very clever.

      “Now,” said my uncle, looking straight at me, “to read the sentence which you have just written, and with which I am wholly unacquainted, I shall only have to take the first letter of each word, then the second, the third, and so forth.”

      And my uncle, to his great astonishment, and my much greater, read:

       “I love you well, my own dear Gräuben!”

      “Hallo!” cried the Professor.

      Yes, indeed, without knowing what I was about, like an awkward and unlucky lover, I had compromised myself by writing this unfortunate sentence.

      “Aha! you are in love with Gräuben?” he said, with the right look for a guardian.

      “Yes; no!” I stammered.

      “You love Gräuben,” he went on once or twice dreamily. “Well, let us apply

Скачать книгу