Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: May 9, 2025
"I don't deny it, dear friend," said Barbican quietly, notwithstanding the unceremonious interruption; "but why do you say so just now?" "Because though we are possessed of the power of retarding the velocity that takes us from the Moon, we have never thought of employing it!" "What do you mean?" "Do you forget the rockets?" "It's a fact!" cried M'Nicholl. "How have we forgotten them?"
"Barbican," asked M'Nicholl suddenly, "what peak is that which lies almost directly south of Pico? I see it plainly, but I can't find it on my map." "I have remarked that pyramidal peak myself," replied Barbican; "but I can assure you that so far it has received no name as yet, although it is likely enough to have been distinguished by the terrestrial astronomers.
"It's all the Sun's fault!" cried Ardan, angrily trying to throw the blame on something, and, like every angry man in such circumstances, bound to be rather nonsensical. "Put the saddle on the right horse, Ardan," said M'Nicholl patronizingly, always delighted at an opportunity of counting a point off the Frenchman.
"Where are those furrows?" asked M'Nicholl, putting his glasses to his eye and adjusting the focus. "You can see them in all directions," answered Ardan; "but two are particularly visible: one running north from Archimedes, the other south towards the Apennines."
Every approved operation that Ardan had performed for the Captain, both now repeated for Barbican, but for a long time with nothing like a favorable result. Ardan at first tried to encourage the Captain by whispers of a lively and hopeful nature, but not yet understanding why M'Nicholl did not deign to make a single reply, he grew reserved by degrees and at last would not speak a single word.
Marston took the seat usually occupied by the driver: Ardan and M'Nicholl sat immediately under him, face to face with Barbican, who, in order that everyone might be able to distinguish him, was to keep all the back seat for himself, the post of honor.
"Three o'clock!" said Barbican, glancing at his chronometer. "No!" cried Ardan in surprise. "Bless us! How rapidly the time passes when we are engaged in scientific conversation! Ouf! I'm getting decidedly too learned! I feel as if I had swallowed a library!" "I feel," observed M'Nicholl, "as if I had been listening to a lecture on Astronomy in the Star course."
After such a hard night spent in work, a little refreshment would not be out of place!" Such a proposition being too reasonable even for M'Nicholl to oppose, Ardan turned on the gas, and had everything ready for the meal in a few minutes. But, this time, breakfast was consumed in absolute silence. No toasts were offered, no hurrahs were uttered.
Barbican and M'Nicholl could hardly help laughing at the absurd reply of their lively companion, but their hilarity was soon stopped by the expression his face assumed as he bent over Satellite's body, where it lay stretched on the sofa. "What's the matter now?" asked Barbican. "Satellite's attack is over," replied Ardan. "Good!" said M'Nicholl, misunderstanding him.
Now tell me what you see!" "I see a vast valley!" answered M'Nicholl. "Straight as an arrow!" added Ardan. "Running through lofty mountains!" cried M'Nicholl. "Cut through with a pair of saws and scooped out with a chisel!" cried Ardan. "See the shadows of those peaks!" cried M'Nicholl catching fire at the sight. "Black, long, and sharp as if cast by cathedral spires!"
Word Of The Day
Others Looking