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three leaders, with Ben Zoof, made their way to the lower

depths of the crater, not with the design of making any further

examination as to the nature of the rock—for although it

might be true enough that it contained thirty per cent.

of gold, it was as valueless to them as granite—but with

the intention of ascertaining whether the subterranean fire

still retained its activity. Satisfied upon this point,

they came to the conclusion that the eruption which had so suddenly

ceased in one spot had certainly broken out in another.

 

February, March, April, May, passed wearily by; but day

succeeded to day with such gloomy sameness that it was little

wonder that no notice was taken of the lapse of time.

The people seemed rather to vegetate than to live,

and their want of vigor became at times almost alarming.

The readings around the long table ceased to be attractive,

and the debates, sustained by few, became utterly wanting

in animation. The Spaniards could hardly be roused to quit

their beds, and seemed to have scarcely energy enough to eat.

The Russians, constitutionally of more enduring temperament,

did not give way to the same extent, but the long and

drear confinement was beginning to tell upon them all.

Servadac, the count, and the lieutenant all knew well enough

that it was the want of air and exercise that was the cause

of much of this mental depression; but what could they do?

The most serious remonstrances on their part were entirely in vain.

In fact, they themselves occasionally fell a prey to the same

lassitude both of body and mind. Long fits of drowsiness,

combined with an utter aversion to food, would come over them.

It almost seemed as if their entire nature had become degenerate,

and that, like tortoises, they could sleep and fast till

the return of summer.

 

Strange to say, little Nina bore her hardships more bravely than

any of them. Flitting about, coaxing one to eat, another to drink,

rousing Pablo as often as he seemed yielding to the common languor,

the child became the life of the party. Her merry prattle enlivened

the gloom of the grim cavern like the sweet notes of a bird;

her gay Italian songs broke the monotony of the depressing silence;

and almost unconscious as the half-dormant population of Gallia

were of her influence, they still would have missed her bright

presence sorely. The months still glided on; how, it seemed

impossible for the inhabitants of the living tomb to say.

There was a dead level of dullness.

 

At the beginning of June the general torpor appeared slightly to relax

its hold upon its victims. This partial revival was probably due

to the somewhat increased influence of the sun, still far, far away.

During the first half of the Gallian year, Lieutenant Procope had

taken careful note of Rosette’s monthly announcements of the comet’s

progress, and he was able now, without reference to the professor,

to calculate the rate of advance on its way back towards the sun.

He found that Gallia had re-crossed the orbit of Jupiter, but was

still at the enormous distance of 197,000,000 leagues from the sun,

and he reckoned that in about four months it would have entered

the zone of the telescopic planets.

 

Gradually, but uninterruptedly, life and spirits continued to revive,

and by the end of the month Servadac and his little colony had

regained most of their ordinary physical and mental energies.

Ben Zoof, in particular, roused himself with redoubled vigor,

like a giant refreshed from his slumbers. The visits, consequently,

to the long-neglected galleries of Nina’s Hive became more

and more frequent.

 

One day an excursion was made to the shore. It was still bitterly cold,

but the atmosphere had lost nothing of its former stillness, and not a cloud

was visible from horizon to zenith. The old footmarks were all as distinct

as on the day in which they had been imprinted, and the only portion

of the shore where any change was apparent was in the little creek.

Here the elevation of the ice had gone on increasing, until the schooner

and the tartan had been uplifted to a height of 150 feet, not only rendering

them quite inaccessible, but exposing them to all but certain destruction

in the event of a thaw.

 

Isaac Hakkabut, immovable from the personal oversight of his property

in the cavern, had not accompanied the party, and consequently

was in blissful ignorance of the fate that threatened his vessel.

“A good thing the old fellow wasn’t there to see,” observed Ben Zoof;

“he would have screamed like a peacock. What a misfortune it is,”

he added, speaking to himself, “to have a peacock’s voice,

without its plumage!”

 

During the months of July and August, Gallia advanced 164,000,000

leagues along her orbit. At night the cold was still intense,

but in the daytime the sun, here full upon the equator,

caused an appreciable difference of 20 degrees in the temperature.

Like birds, the population spent whole days exposed to its

grateful warmth, rarely returning till nightfall to the shade

of their gloomy home.

 

This spring-time, if such it may be called, had a most enlivening

influence upon all. Hope and courage revived as day by day

the sun’s disc expanded in the heavens, and every evening

the earth assumed a greater magnitude amongst the fixed stars.

It was distant yet, but the goal was cheeringly in view.

 

“I can’t believe that yonder little speck of light contains my mountain

of Montmartre,” said Ben Zoof, one night, after he had been gazing long

and steadily at the far-off world.

 

“You will, I hope, some day find out that it does,” answered his master.

 

“I hope so,” said the orderly, without moving his eye from

the distant sphere. After meditating a while, he spoke again.

“I suppose Professor Rosette couldn’t make his comet go

straight back, could he?”

 

“Hush!” cried Servadac.

 

Ben Zoof understood the correction.

 

“No,” continued the captain; “it is not for man to disturb the order

of the universe. That belongs to a Higher Power than ours!”

CHAPTER XIV

THE PROFESSOR PERPLEXED

 

Another month passed away, and it was now September, but it was

still impossible to leave the warmth of the subterranean retreat

for the more airy and commodious quarters of the Hive, where “the bees”

would certainly have been frozen to death in their cells.

It was altogether quite as much a matter of congratulation as of

regret that the volcano showed no symptoms of resuming its activity;

for although a return of the eruption might have rendered their

former resort again habitable, any sudden outbreak would have been

disastrous to them where they were, the crater being the sole outlet

by which the burning lava could escape.

 

“A wretched time we have had for the last seven months,”

said the orderly one day to his master; “but what a comfort

little Nina has been to us all!”

 

“Yes, indeed,” replied Servadac; “she is a charming little creature.

I hardly know how we should have got on without her.”

 

“What is to become of her when we arrive back at the earth?”

 

“Not much fear, Ben Zoof, but that she will be well taken care of.

Perhaps you and I had better adopt her.”

 

“Ay, yes,” assented the orderly. “You can be her father,

and I can be her mother.”

 

Servadac laughed. “Then you and I shall be man and wife.”

 

“We have been as good as that for a long time,” observed Ben Zoof, gravely.

 

By the beginning of October, the temperature had so far moderated that it

could scarcely be said to be intolerable. The comet’s distance was

scarcely three times as great from the sun as the earth from the sun,

so that the thermometer rarely sunk beyond 35 degrees below zero.

The whole party began to make almost daily visits to the Hive, and frequently

proceeded to the shore, where they resumed their skating exercise,

rejoicing in their recovered freedom like prisoners liberated from a dungeon.

Whilst the rest were enjoying their recreation, Servadac and the count

would hold long conversations with Lieutenant Procope about their present

position and future prospects, discussing all manner of speculations

as to the results of the anticipated collision with the earth,

and wondering whether any measures could be devised for mitigating

the violence of a shock which might be terrible in its consequences,

even if it did not entail a total annihilation of themselves.

 

There was no visitor to the Hive more regular than Rosette. He had already

directed his telescope to be moved back to his former observatory, where,

as much as the cold would permit him, he persisted in making his all-absorbing

studies of the heavens.

 

The result of these studies no one ventured to inquire;

but it became generally noticed that something was very seriously

disturbing the professor’s equanimity. Not only would he be seen

toiling more frequently up the arduous way that lay between his nook

below and his telescope above, but he would be heard muttering

in an angry tone that indicated considerable agitation.

 

One day, as he was hurrying down to his study, he met Ben Zoof, who,

secretly entertaining a feeling of delight at the professor’s manifest

discomfiture, made some casual remark about things not being very straight.

The way in which his advance was received the good orderly never divulged,

but henceforward he maintained the firm conviction that there was something

very much amiss up in the sky.

 

To Servadac and his friends this continual disquietude and ill-humor

on the part of the professor occasioned no little anxiety.

From what, they asked, could his dissatisfaction arise?

They could only conjecture that he had discovered some flaw

in his reckonings; and if this were so, might there not be reason

to apprehend that their anticipations of coming into contact

with the earth, at the settled time, might all be falsified?

 

Day followed day, and still there was no cessation of the

professor’s discomposure. He was the most miserable of mortals. If really

his calculations and his observations were at variance, this, in a man

of his irritable temperament, would account for his perpetual perturbation.

But he entered into no explanation; he only climbed up to his telescope,

looking haggard and distressed, and when compelled by the frost to retire,

he would make his way back to his study more furious than ever.

At times he was heard giving vent to his vexation. “Confound it!

what does it mean? what is she doing? All behind! Is Newton a fool?

Is the law of universal gravitation the law of universal nonsense?”

And the little man would seize his head in both his hands, and tear

away at the scanty locks which he could ill afford to lose.

 

Enough was overheard to confirm the suspicion that there was some

irreconcilable discrepancy between the results of his computation

and what he had actually observed; and yet, if he had been called

upon to say, he would have sooner insisted that there was derangement

in the laws of celestial mechanism, than have owned there was

the least probability of error in any of his own calculations.

Assuredly, if the poor professor had had any flesh to lose he would

have withered away to a shadow.

 

But this state of things was before long to come to an end.

On the 12th, Ben Zoof, who was hanging about outside the great

hall of the cavern, heard the professor inside utter a loud cry.

Hurrying in to ascertain the cause, he found Rosette in a state

of perfect frenzy, in which ecstasy and rage seemed to be struggling

for the predominance.

 

“Eureka! Eureka!” yelled the excited

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