ing man. It was apparent that his strength was
gradually diminishing. That frame, once so robust, was now but the
fragile tenement of a departing soul. All of life was concentrated in
the heart and head.

The engineer and reporter consulted in whispers. Was it possible to
render any aid to the dying man? Might his life, if not saved, be
prolonged for some days? He himself had said that no remedy could
avail, and he awaited with tranquillity that death which had for him no
terrors.

"We can do nothing," said Gideon Spilett.

"But of what is he dying?" asked Pencroft.

"Life is simply fading out," replied the reporter.

"Nevertheless," said the sailor, "if we move him into the open air, and
the light of the sun, he might perhaps recover."

"No, Pencroft," answered the engineer, "it is useless to attempt it.
Besides, Captain Nemo would never consent to leave his vessel. He
has lived for a dozen years on board the 'Nautilus,' and on board the
'Nautilus' he desires to die."

Without doubt Captain Nemo heard Cyrus Harding's reply, for he raised
himself slightly, and in a voice more feeble, but always intelligible,--

"You are right, sir," he said. "I shall die here--it is my wish; and
therefore I have a request to make of you."

Cyrus Harding and his companions had drawn near the divan, and now
arranged the cushions in such a manner as to better support the dying
man.

They saw his eyes wander over all the marvels of this saloon, lighted
by the electric rays which fell from the arabesques of the luminous
ceiling. He surveyed, one after the other, the pictures hanging from
the splendid tapestries of the partitions, the chef-d'oeuvres of the
Italian, Flemish, French, and Spanish masters; the statues of marble and
bronze on their pedestals; the magnificent organ, leaning against the
after-partition; the aquarium, in which bloomed the most wonderful
productions of the sea--marine plants, zoophytes, chaplets of pearls
of inestimable value; and, finally, his eyes rested on this device,
inscribed over the pediment of the museum--the motto of the "Nautilus"--

"Mobilis in mobile."

His glance seemed to rest fondly for the last time on these masterpieces
of art and of nature, to which he had limited his horizon during a
sojourn of so many years in the abysses of the seas.

Cyrus Harding respected the captain's silence, and waited till he should
speak.

After some minutes, during which, doubtless, he passed in rev