But is it not a dream? Whither is it carrying me? My feverish hand has vainly attempted to describe upon paper its strange and wonderful details. I have forgotten everything that surrounds me. The Professor, the guide, the raft⁠—are all gone out of my ken. An illusion has laid hold upon me.

“What is the matter?” my uncle breaks in.

My staring eyes are fixed vacantly upon him.

“Take care, Axel, or you will fall overboard.”

At that moment I felt the sinewy hand of Hans seizing me vigorously. But for him, carried away by my dream, I should have thrown myself into the sea.

“Is he mad?” cried the Professor.

“What is it all about?” at last I cried, returning to myself.

“Do you feel ill?” my uncle asked.