Baron Trump's Marvellous Underground Journey
in picking our way along the shore. In fact, we crossed and recrossed
the river itself when the whim seized us, for it now went winding on
ahead of us, like a broad ribbon of ice through caverns and corridors.
Suddenly I came to a halt and stood as motionless as the fantastic forms
of ice surrounding me. What could it mean? Were my eyes weakened by my
long sojourn in the World within a World, playing me cruel tricks?
Surely there can be no mistake! I whispered to myself. That light yonder
which pours its glorious effulgence upon those spires and pinnacles,
those towers and turrets of ice, is the sunshine of the upper world! Can
it be that my marvellous underground journey is ended, that I stand upon
the threshold of the upper world once more?
Bulger, too, recognizes this flood of sunshine, and breaking out into a
fit of joyous barking, dashes on ahead, to be the first one to feel its
gentle warmth after our long journey through the dark and silent
passages of the World within a World.
But I dare not trust my eyes, and fearing lest he should fall into some
ambush or meet with some dread accident, I called him back to me.
Together we hurry along as rapidly as possible. Now I note that we are
drawing near to the end of the vast corridor through which we have been
making our way for some time, and that we stand upon the portal of a
mighty subterranean region lighted with real sunlight. It stretches away
as far as the eye can reach, and so high is the roof that spans this
vast under world that I cannot see whether it be of ice or not. All that
I can see is that through one of its sloping sides there streams a
mighty torrent of sunlight, which pours its splendor with unstinting
hand upon the wide highways, the broad terraces, the sheer parapets, and
the sloping banks which diversify this ice world. Can it be that one
side of this mighty mountain which nature has here hollowed out and set
like a peaked roof over this vast subterranean region, is a gigantic
window of ice itself through which the sunlight of the outer world
streams in this grand way like a silent cataract of light, like a deluge
of sunshine? No, this could not be; for now upon a second look I saw
that this flood of light thus streaming through the side of the mountain
came through it like a mighty pencil of rays, and striking the opposite
walls with its brilliancy a hundred-fold increased, rebounded in a
thousand directions, flooding the whole region with its effulgence and
dying away in faint and pearl-like glimmer in the vast approach where I
had first noted it.
And therefore I understood that nature must have set a gigantic lens,
twice a thousand feet or more in diameter, in the sloping side of this
hollow mountain—a perfect lens of purest rock crystal, which, gathering
in its mysterious bosom the sunlight of the outer world, threw
it—intensely radiant and dazzling white—into the gloomy depths of this
World within a World, so that when the sun went up out there, it went up
in here as well, but became cold as it was beautiful, bringing no
warmth, no other cheer save light, to this subterranean region which for
thousands of centuries had lain locked in the crystal embrace of frozen
lakes and brooks and rivers and torrents and waterfalls, once bubbling
and flowing and rushing headlong through fair lands of the upper world,
but suddenly checked in their course by some bursting forth of mighty
pent-up forces, and turned downward into these icy depths condemned to
everlasting rest and silence, their crystals locked in a sleep that
never would know an awaking, mocked in their dreams by this mysterious
sunlight that came with the smile and the fair, winsome look of the
real, and yet was so powerless to set them free as once it did when the
springtime came in the upper world. All these thoughts and many others
besides flitted through my mind as I stood looking up at that mighty
lens in its setting of mightier rock.
And so deeply impressed was I by the sight of such a great flood of
sunlight pouring through this gigantic bull’s eye which nature had set
in the rocky side of the hollow mountain peak and illumining this under
world, that the longer I gazed upon the wonderful spectacle the more
firmly inthralled my senses became by it.
The deep silence, the deliciously pure air, the ever-varying tints of
the light as the mighty ice columns acting the part of prisms, literally
filled those vast chambers with the rainbow’s glorious glow, imparted
unto the spell resting upon me such unearthly power that it might have
held me there until my limbs hardened into icy crystals and my eyes
looked out with a frozen stare, had not the ever-watchful Bulger given a
gentle tug at the skirt of my coat and aroused me from my inthralling
meditation.
CHAPTER XXII
THE PALACE OF ICE IN THE GOLDEN SUNLIGHT, AND WHAT I IMAGINED IT
MIGHT CONTAIN.—HOW WE WERE HALTED BY A COUPLE OF QUAINTLY CLAD
SENTINELS.—THE KOLTYKWERPS.—HIS FRIGID MAJESTY KING GELIDUS.—MORE
ABOUT THE ICE PALACE, TOGETHER WITH A DESCRIPTION OF THE
THRONE-ROOM.—OUR RECEPTION BY THE KING AND HIS DAUGHTER
SCHNEEBOULE.—BRIEF MENTION OF BULLIBRAIN, OR LORD HOT HEAD.
Scarcely had I advanced a hundred yards beyond the portal where I had
halted when happening to turn my eyes to the other side, a sight met
them which sent a thrill of wonder and delight through my form. There
upon the highest terrace stood a palace of ice, its slender minarets,
its high-lifted towers, its rounded turrets, its spacious platform, and
its broad flights of steps all glittering in the sunlight as if
gem-studded and jewel-set.
It was a spectacle to stir the most indifferent heart, let alone one so
full of ardor and buoyancy as mine. But ah, dear friends, even admitting
that I can succeed in awakening in your minds even a faint conception of
the beauty of this ice palace, as the sunlight fell full upon it at that
moment, how can I ever hope to give you an idea of the unearthly beauty
of this palace of ice and its glorious surroundings when the moon went
up in the outer world at a later hour and its pale, mysterious light was
poured through the mighty lens in the mountain side, and fell with
celestial shimmer upon these walls of ice?
But the one thought that oppressed me now was: Can this beautiful abode
be without a tenant, without a living soul within its wonderful halls
and chambers? Or, may not its dwellers, overtaken by the pitiless cold,
sit with wide-opened eyes and icy glare, stark as marble in chairs of
ice, white frosted hair pressed against icy cushions, and hands
stiffened around crystal cups filled with frozen wine of topaz hue,
while the harper’s fingers cling cramped to the wires stiff as the wires
themselves, and the last tones of the singer’s voice lie in feathery
crystals of frozen breath white at his feet?
Come what may, I resolved to lift the crystal knocker that might hang on
the outer door of this palace of ice and awaken the castellan, if his
slumber were not that of death. In a few moments I had crossed the level
space between me and the first terrace, which it would be necessary for
me to scale in order to reach the second and then the third upon which
stood the palace of ice.
Imagine my more than surprise upon finding myself now at the foot of a
magnificent flight of steps, hewn into the ice with a master hand, and
leading to the terrace above.
Springing lightly up this flight with Bulger close at my heels, I
suddenly set eyes upon two of the quaintest-looking human beings that I
ever remembered seeing in all my travels. They looked for all the world
like two big animated snowballs, being clad from top to toe in garments
made of snow-white fleece, their skull-caps likewise of white fur,
leaving only their faces visible. In his right hand each of them carried
a very prettily shaped flint axe, mounted upon a helve of polished bone.
Striding up to me and swinging their axes over my head in altogether too
close proximity to my poll to be particularly pleasant, one of them
cries out,—
“Halt, sir! Unless his frigid Majesty Gelidus, King of the Koltykwerps,
awaits thy coming, his guards will, at a signal from us, roll a few
thousand tons of ice down upon thee if thou darest proceed another step.
Therefore, stand fast and tell us who thou art and whether thou art
expected.”
“Gentlemen,” said I, “kindly lower those axes of yours and I will
convince you that his frigid Majesty hath nothing to dread in me, for I
am none other than the very small but very noble and very famous
Sebastian von Troomp, commonly known as ‘Little Baron Trump.’”
“Never heard of thee in all my life,” said both of the guards as with
one voice.
“But I have of you, gentlemen,” I continued,—for now I recollected what
the learned Don Fum had said about the frozen land of the Koltykwerps,
or Cold Bodies,—“and as proof of my peaceful intent, like a true knight
I now offer you my hand, and beg that you will conduct me into the
presence of his frigid Majesty.”
No sooner had the guard standing next me drawn off his glove and grasped
my hand, than he let it loose again with a cry of fright.
“Zounds! Man, art thou on fire? Why, thy hand burned me like the flame
of a lamp!”
“Why, no, my friend,” said I quietly; “that’s my ordinary temperature.”
“And thy companion?”
“Hath even a warmer heart than I have,” was my reply.
“Well, our word for it, little baron,” exclaimed one of the guards with
a chuckle, “there will be no place for thee except in the meat quarry.
Possibly after thou hast been cooled off for a week or so, his frigid
Majesty will be able to have thee about!”
This was not a very cheerful prospect, for I had no particular desire to
be laid away in the royal ice-box for a week or so. Anyway, the only
thing to be done was to insist upon being conducted at once into the
presence of the King of the Koltykwerps, and abide by his decision.
One of the guards having saluted me by presenting his battle-axe in real
military style, faced about and began to ascend the grand staircase with
intent to announce my arrival to his frigid Majesty, while the other
informed me that he would conduct me as far as the perron of the palace.
I was wonderstruck with the beauty of the three staircases leading up to
the ice palace. Massive balustrades with curiously carved balusters
springing from towering pedestals, crowned with beautiful lamps, all,
all, I say, all and everything, to the crystal-clear sides of the lamps
themselves, was fashioned from blocks of ice. It proved to be a good
climb to the top of the third terrace, and I was not put out when the
guard solemnly lowered his battle-axe of flint to bring me to a
standstill.
The sun in the upper world was, no doubt, nearing the horizon, for a
deep and beautiful twilight suddenly sank upon the icy dominions of King
Gelidus, and, to my surprise and delight, through the great slabs of
crystal-clear ice which served for windows to the palace, streamed a
soft radiance as if a thousand wax tapers were burning in the chambers
and galleries in-doors. It was a sight to gladden the eyes of any
mortal; but if I had been spellbound by the beauty of its exterior, how
shall I tell you, dear friends, of the curious splendor of the interior
of Gelidus’ palace of ice, as it burst upon me when I had crossed its
threshold?
Hallway led into hallway, chamber opened into chamber, through portals
gracefully arched, and winding staircases climbed to upper rooms, while
hanging from lofty ceilings or resting on graceful pedestals, were a
thousand alabaster lamps, shedding light and perfume upon this glorious
home of his frigid Majesty Gelidus, King of the Koltykwerps. Long rows