ved me he came to me.

"Professor, will it be convenient to you to make a submarine excursion
to-day?"

"With my companions?" I asked.

"If they like."

"We obey your orders, Captain."

"Will you be so good then as to put on your cork jackets?"

It was not a question of dead or dying. I rejoined Ned Land and
Conseil, and told them of Captain Nemo's proposition. Conseil hastened
to accept it, and this time the Canadian seemed quite willing to follow
our example.

It was eight o'clock in the morning. At half-past eight we were
equipped for this new excursion, and provided with two contrivances for
light and breathing. The double door was open; and, accompanied by
Captain Nemo, who was followed by a dozen of the crew, we set foot, at
a depth of about thirty feet, on the solid bottom on which the Nautilus
rested.

A slight declivity ended in an uneven bottom, at fifteen fathoms depth.
This bottom differed entirely from the one I had visited on my first
excursion under the waters of the Pacific Ocean. Here, there was no
fine sand, no submarine prairies, no sea-forest. I immediately
recognised that marvellous region in which, on that day, the Captain
did the honours to us. It was the coral kingdom.

The light produced a thousand charming varieties, playing in the midst
of the branches that were so vividly coloured. I seemed to see the
membraneous and cylindrical tubes tremble beneath the undulation of the
waters. I was tempted to gather their fresh petals, ornamented with
delicate tentacles, some just blown, the others budding, while a small
fish, swimming swiftly, touched them slightly, like flights of birds.
But if my hand approached these living flowers, these animated,
sensitive plants, the whole colony took alarm. The white petals
re-entered their red cases, the flowers faded as I looked, and the bush
changed into a block of stony knobs.

Chance had thrown me just by the most precious specimens of the
zoophyte. This coral was more valuable than that found in the
Mediterranean, on the coasts of France, Italy and Barbary. Its tints
justified the poetical names of "Flower of Blood," and "Froth of
Blood," that trade has given to its most beautiful productions. Coral
is sold for L20 per ounce; and in this place the watery beds would make
the fortunes of a company of coral-divers. This precious matter, often
confused with other polypi, formed then the inextricable plots called
"macciota," and on whic