“Where is your lamp?”
…
“It is out.”
…
“And the stream?”
…
“Disappeared.”
…
“Axel, Axel, take courage!”
…
“Wait! I am exhausted! I can’t answer. Speak to me!”
…
“Courage,” resumed my uncle. “Don’t speak. Listen to me. We have looked for you up the gallery and down the gallery. Could not find you. I wept for you, my poor boy. At last, supposing you were still on the Hansbach, we fired our guns. Our voices are audible to each other, but our hands cannot touch. But don’t despair, Axel! It is a great thing that we can hear each other.”
…
During this time I had been reflecting. A vague hope was returning to my heart. There was one thing I must know to begin with. I placed my lips close to the wall, saying:
“My uncle!”