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Two months later, when the post delivered an exuberant letter from Dr. Samuel Fergusson, Nemo read it in his open doorway with great perplexity.

“Yes, my friend! Indeed, this is a most exciting time for us,” the Englishman wrote. “I admit that your proposed terms took me by surprise. They are unorthodox, to say the least, and I needed to adjust my mental state to accept them. But why not, eh? The spirit of exploration requires us to open our minds to all things. Very well, young Nemo -- as soon as arrangements can be made, we shall all be off to Africa.”

Nemo read the note again with a pounding heart, but he could not fathom Fergusson’s meaning. Had the Royal Geographical Society changed its mind, considering Nemo’s modified balloon design? How had the explorer obtained the finances necessary for such an expedition? Nemo had assessed the costs of constructing his balloon-within-a-balloon, and he knew it would not come cheap.

His head was full of questions, yet it would take time for the post to carry a letter across the channel to London -- and Nemo was mad with curiosity. However, before he could compose a note listing his questions, he heard a tentative rapping on his door. Nemo answered the knock to find Caroline standing there in sensible traveling clothes with a small valise at her side. “I hope you were sincere in your wish to travel across Africa, André.”

Caroline removed her gloves as she smiled at him. “I have read your letters again and again -- the ones in which you tell me of your ideas and your discussions with this Englishman Fergusson? I know this dream has attached itself to your heart.”

“Yes, of course,” Nemo said, “but --”

“So I wrote to your Dr. Fergusson, and I guaranteed him funding for his supplies, his balloon, and his entire expedition. Both my husband Captain Hatteras and ‘Aronnax, Merchant’ have fortunes to invest. This expedition will honor my husband’s lifelong ambitions of exploration. You will accompany the doctor, of course, because this must be your triumph as well as his.”

Nemo could not contain his excitement. “Were those the terms Dr. Fergusson refers to? That I must accompany him?”

Caroline gave him a mischievous smile, reminding him of the coy young woman he had fallen in love with back in Ile Feydeau. But her bright blue eyes had an entirely different sparkle now. “I made my offer contingent upon several conditions. You are not the only one who longs to break free of a dull life here in France, André.”

Nemo blinked at her, already sure of what she was going to say.

“The other condition is that I undertake this expedition with you and Dr. Fergusson.”

iv

The British and French press had a field day with Dr. Fergusson’s preposterous but wonderfully dramatic scheme to cross Africa in a balloon. Jules Verne read about Nemo’s involvement in the daily Paris newspapers even before his dark-haired friend came to see him.

Nemo sent a note asking Verne to meet him that Saturday on the steps of the Louvre. An unsettled Verne went to France’s magnificent art museum to hear what Nemo had to say in person . . . and to try to talk him out of the madness, if at all possible.

A light rain and gray skies had deterred the usual crowds, but people still milled about on the sidewalks and grounds, seeking shelter inside. A mushroom forest of umbrellas sprouted on the street corners, like what Nemo had described finding at the center of the Earth.

The dark-haired young man stood on the steps, smiling at Verne’s approach. As Verne closed his umbrella and shook off the moisture, he saw that Nemo was wet, his long dark hair drenched, his clothes soaked. Verne raised his eyebrows. “I expected a man so accustomed to the hardships of survival to come prepared with an umbrella against the rain.”

Nemo gave Verne a friendly embrace. “A man so accustomed to the hardships of survival does not mind a little moisture.”

They passed under the white arches and entered the enormous museum.