Free The Eternal Adam and other stories by Jules Vernes Page B

piles, foamed and roared most mournfully.
    One of the houses of the island was
striking for its curiously aged appearance. It was the dwelling of the old
clockmaker, Master Zacharius, whose household consisted of his daughter
Gerande, Aubert Thun, his apprentice, and his old servant Scholastique.
    There was no man in Geneva to compare in
interest with this Zacharius. His age was past finding out. Not the oldest
inhabitant of the town could tell for how long his thin, pointed head had
shaken above his shoulders, nor the day when, for the first time, he had walked
through the streets, with his long white locks floating in the wind. The man
did not live; he vibrated like the pendulum of his clocks. His spare and
cadaverous figure was always clothed in dark colours. Like the pictures of
Leonardo da Vinci, he was sketched in black.
    Gerande had the pleasantest room in the
whole house, whence, through a narrow window, she had the inspiriting view of
the snowy peaks of Jura; but the bedroom and workshop of the old man were a
kind of cavern close on to the water, the floor of which rested on the piles.
    From time immemorial Master Zacharius had
never come out except at meal times, and when he went to regulate the different
clocks of the town. He passed the rest of his time at his bench, which was
covered with numerous clockwork instruments, most of which he had invented
himself. For he was a clever man; his works were valued in all France and
Germany. The best workers in Geneva readily recognised his superiority, and
showed that he was an honour to the town, by saying, ‘To him belongs the glory
of having invented the escapement.’ In fact, the birth of true clockwork dates
from the invention which the talents of Zacharius had discovered not many years
before.
    After he had worked hard for a long time,
Zacharius would slowly put his tools away, cover up the delicate pieces that he
had been adjusting with glasses, and stop the active wheel of his lathe; then
he would raise a trap-door constructed in the floor of his workshop, and,
stooping down, used to inhale for hours together the thick vapours of the
Rhone, as it dashed along under his eyes.
    One winter’s night the old servant
Scholastique served the supper, which, according to old custom, she and the
young mechanic shared with their master. Master Zacharius did not eat, though
the food carefully prepared for him was offered him in a handsome blue and
white dish. He scarcely answered the sweet words of Gerande, who evidently
noticed her father’s silence, and even the clatter of Scholastique herself no
more struck his ear than the roar of the river, to which he paid no attention.
    After the silent meal, the old clockmaker
left the table without embracing his daughter, or saying his usual ‘Good-night’
to all. He left by the narrow door leading to his den. and the staircase
groaned under his heavy footsteps as he went down.
    Gerande, Aubert, and Scholastique sat for
some minutes without speaking. On this evening the weather was dull; the clouds
dragged heavily on the Alps, and threatened rain; the severe climate of
Switzerland made one feel sad, while the south wind swept round the house, and
whistled ominously.
    ‘My dear young lady,’ said Scholastique, at
last, ‘do you know that our master has been out of sorts for several days? Holy
Virgin! I know he has had no appetite, because his words stick in his inside,
and it would take a very clever devil to drag even one out of him.’
    ‘My father has some secret cause of
trouble, that I cannot even guess,’ replied Gerande, as a sad anxiety spread
over her face.
    ‘Mademoiselle, don’t let such sadness fill
your heart. You know the strange habits of Master Zacharius. Who can read his
secret thoughts in his face? No doubt some fatigue has overcome him, but
tomorrow he will have forgotten it, and be very sorry to have given his
daughter pain.’
    It was Aubert who spoke thus, looking into
Gerande’s lovely eyes. Aubert