r the little cave. That is why I am able to
pass at high tide. A clever notion, what? It's an idea of my own. True,
neither Caesar nor Louis XIV., nor, in short, any of my distinguished
predecessors could have had it, because they did not possess
submarines. They were satisfied with the staircase, which then ran all
the way down to the little bottom cave. I did away with the last treads
of the staircase and invented the trick of the movable ceiling: it's a
present I'm making to France--Raymonde, my love, put out the lamp
beside you--we shan't want it now--on the contrary--"

A pale light, which seemed to be of the same color as the water, met
them as they left the cave and made its way into the cabin through the
two portholes and through a thick glass skylight that projected above
the planking of the deck and allowed the passengers to inspect the
upper layers of the sea. And, suddenly, a shadow glided over their
heads.

"The attack is about to take place. The fleet is investing the Needle.
But, hollow as the Needle is, I don't see how they propose to enter it."

He took up the speaking tube:

"Don't leave the bottom, Charolais. Where are we going? Why, I told
you: to Port-Lupin. And at full speed, do you hear? We want water to
land by--there's a lady with us."

They skimmed over the rocky bed. The seaweed stood up on end like a
heavy, dark vegetation and the deep currents made it wave gracefully,
stretching and billowing like floating hair.

Another shadow, a longer one.

"That's the torpedo-boat," said Lupin. "We shall hear the roar of the
guns presently. What will Duguay-Trouin do? Bombard the Needle? Think
of what we're missing, Beautrelet, by not being present at the meeting
of Duguay-Trouin and Ganimard! The juncture of the land and naval
forces! Hi, Charolais, don't go to sleep, my man!"

They were moving very fast, for all that. The rocks had been succeeded
by sand-fields and then, almost at once, they saw more rocks, which
marked the eastern extremity of Etretat, the Porte d'Amont. Fish fled
at their approach. One of them, bolder than the rest, fastened on to a
porthole and looked at the occupants of the saloon with its great,
fixed, staring eyes.

"That's better," cried Lupin. "We're going now. What do you think of my
cockle-shell, Beautrelet? Not so bad, is she? Do you remember the story
of the Seven of Hearts,[11] the wretched end of Lacombe, the engineer,
and how, after punishing his murderers, I