Yes, far in the distance was an oasis ... an oasis with limpid water,
which reflected the iron trees! ... Tush, it was the scene of the
mirage ... I recognized it at once ... the worst of the three! ... No
one had been able to fight against it ... no one... I did my utmost to
keep my head AND NOT TO HOPE FOR WATER, because I knew that, if a man
hoped for water, the water that reflected the iron tree, and if, after
hoping for water, he struck against the mirror, then there was only one
thing for him to do: to hang himself on the iron tree!
So I cried to M. de Chagny: "It's the mirage! ... It's the mirage! ... Don't believe in the water!
... It's another trick of the mirrors! ..."
Then he flatly told me to shut up, with my tricks of the mirrors, my
springs, my revolving doors and my palaces of illusions! He angrily
declared that I must be either blind or mad to imagine that all that
water flowing over there, among those splendid, numberless trees, was
not real water! ... And the desert was real! ... And so was the
forest! ... And it was no use trying to take him in ... he was an old,
experienced traveler ... he had been all over the place!
And he dragged himself along, saying: "Water! Water!"
And his mouth was open, as though he were drinking.
And my mouth was open too, as though I were drinking.
For we not only saw the water, but WE HEARD IT! ... We heard it flow,
we heard it ripple! ... Do you understand that word "ripple?" ... IT IS
A SOUND WHICH YOU HEAR WITH YOUR TONGUE! ... You put your tongue out
of your mouth to listen to it better!
Lastly--and this was the most pitiless torture of all--we heard the
rain and it was not raining! This was an infernal invention... Oh, I
knew well enough how Erik obtained it! He filled with little stones a
very long and narrow box, broken up inside with wooden and metal
projections. The stones, in falling, struck against these projections
and rebounded from one to another; and the result was a series of
pattering sounds that exactly imitated a rainstorm.
Ah, you should have seen us putting out our tongues and dragging
ourselves toward the rippling river-bank! Our eyes and ears were full
of water, but our tongues were hard and dry as horn!
When we reached the mirror, M. de Chagny licked it ... and I also
licked the glass.
It was burning hot!
Then we rolled on the floor with a hoarse cry of despair. M. de Chagny
put the one pistol that was still loaded to his temple; and I stared at
the Punjab lasso at the foot of the iron tree. I knew why the iron
tree had returned, in this third change of scene! ... The iron tree
was waiting for me! ...