作 者：	儒勒?凡尔纳 (Verne J.)
英文书名：
出 版 社：	清华大学出版社	出版时间：	2013-01-01
ＩＳＢＮ：	9787302301301	开 本：	16开

　Two hours after leaving the Nautilus we had passed the tree line， and a hundred feet above rose the mountain peak which stood between us and the brilliant light coming from the other side. Several petrified shrubs ran in twisting， zigzag lines. Schools of fish rose from' beneath our feet like birds flushed in high grass. The massive rocks were rent with impenetrable crevasses， deep caves and unfathomable holes at the bottom of which one could hear formidable creatures moving. My blood would cuidle when I would see a huge feeler blocking my path， or hear frightful pincers snapping shut in the shadows of some hollow! Thousands of luminous spots shone in the midst of the darkness. They were the eyes of giant shellfish hidden in their lairs， huge lobsters drawing themselves up like soldiers and moving their claws with a metallic clanking noise， titanic crabs set like guns on their carriages， and frightful octopuses intertwining their tentacles like an underbrush of live snakes.
　　What was this luxuriant world I did not yet know？ What kind of creatures were these for whom the rock formed a second shell？ Where had nature found the secret of their plantlike existence， and for how many centuries had they been living like this in the deepest layers of the ocean？
　　But I could not stop. Captain Nemo was already familiar with these terrible animals and no longer paid any attention to them. We arrived on a plateau where yet other surprises were awaiting me. I made out picturesque ruins which betrayed the hand of man and no longer that of the Creator. There were vast heaps of stones among which one could make out vague shapes of castles and temples decked in a whole world of zoophytes and flowers， which were covered， not with ivy， but with a mantle of seaweed.
　　But what was this part of the globe swallowed by some cataclysm'l Who had laid out these rocks and stones like the dolmens of prehistoric times？ Where was I？ What was this place to which Captain Nemo had led me？
　　I wanted to ask him. But since I could not， I stopped and seized his arm. He merely shook his head and pointed to the highest point on the mountain， as ifto say: "Come on! Follow me! Further on!"
　　I followed him in a last burst of effort， and in several minutes I had climbed the peak rising fifty or so feet above the surrounding mass ofrocks. I looked back to the slopes we had just climbed. There the mountain only rose seven or eight hundred feet above the plain; but on the other side it rose twice that height over a deeper p.ortion of the ocean floor. My eyes wandered into the distance and I saw a vast space lit by violent flashes. This mountain was in fact a volcano. Fifty feet below the peak， in the midst of a rain of stones and cinders， a large crater vomited forth torrents of lava which spread out in a fiery cascade in the midst of the waters. Placed as it was， this volcano acted like an immense torch lighting up the lower plain out to the farthest reaches of the horizon.
　　This underwater crater threw up lava， but no flames. Flames need oxygen from the air， and they cannot exist under water; but streams of incandescent lava can achieve a reddish-white color， struggle victoriously against the surrounding water and become vaporized upon contact. Fast currents carried off all these diffused gases， and the torrents of lava slid to the base of the mountain， like those ofVesuvius threatening another Torre del Greco.
　　And in fact， there beneath my eyes， ruined， crumbled and destroyed， lay a town with its roofs caved in， its temples falling down， its arches out of place and its columns lying on the ground. In all these fragments one could see the solid proportjons of a kind of Tuscan architecture. Farther on there were the remains of a giant aqueduct; here lay an encrusted mound of some Acropolis， with the floating forms ofa Parthenon; there the remains of a dock， as if from some antique port that had once sheltered merchant ships and triremes ofwar at the shore of an extinct sea; yet further on， long lines of crumbling walls and deserted streets. Captain Nemo was showing me an entire Pompeii buried beneath the ocean!
　　Where was I? I had to know. I wanted to speak-l wanted to tear off the copper helmet enclosing my head.
　　But Captain Nemo came over and took me by the arm. He then picked up a piece of chalky stone and went over to a rock ofblack basalt， where he wrote only a single word:
　　ATLANTIS
　　Suddenly everything became clear! This was the ancient Meropis of　Theopompus， the Atlantis of Plato. This was the continent which Origen， Porphyry， Iamblichus， D'Anville， Malte-Brun and Humboldt had said was pure legend， as opposed to Posidonius， Pliny， Marcellinus Ammianus， Tertullian， Engel， Scherer， Toumefort， Buffon and d'Avezac， who believed it had really existed. There it was before my eyes， with undeniable evidence of its catastrophic end! This was that submerged region which had once existed beyond Europe， Asia or Libya， beyond the Pillars of Hercules and inhabited by the powerfulAtlantides against whom the early Greeks had fought!
　　It is Plato himself who has written the history of these mighty deeds of far-off heroic times. His dialogue between Timaeus and Critias was written， so to speak， under the inspiration of Solon， the poet and lawmaker.
　　One day Solon was chatting with several wise old men of Sais， a city already eight hundred years old， as witnessed by the annals engraved on the sacred wall of its temple.　One of these old men recounted the history of another city. Yet a thousand years older. This first Athenian city， nine hundred centuries old， had been invaded and partly destroyed by the Atlantides. These people， he said， occupiedan immense continent larger than Africa and Asia put together， and stretching from 12o to 40o N. Lat. Their sway extended even to Egypt. They also tried to conquer Greece， but they had been forced to retreat before the indomitable resistance of the Hellenes. Centuries went by and then suddenly they were overtaken by a cataclysm， with floods and earthquakes. One night and one day were enough to annihilate Atlantis， whose highest summits， the Maderia Islands， the Azores， the Canaries and the Cape Verde Islands， still emerge above the surface ofthe sea.
　　Such were the historical memories evoked by Captain Nemo's inscription. Thus， through the strangest of destinies， I was now standing on a mountain of this lost continent! My hand was touching ruins thousands of centuries old， contemporary with geological epochs! I was walking over the very ground tread by the contemporaries of earliest mankind! My heavy soles were crushing the skeletons of ancient animals which these now petrified trees had once covered with their shade!
　　……