Chapter 19

A Struggle Against the Impossible

12 min

For a long time Barbicane and his companions looked silently and sadly upon that world which they had only seen from a distance, as Moses saw the land of Canaan, and which they were leaving without a possibility of ever returning to it. The projectile’s position with regard to the moon had altered, and the base was now turned to the earth.

For a long time, Barbicane and his companions gazed silently and sadly at that world. They had seen it only from a distance, as Moses saw the land of Canaan. Now they were leaving it, with no possibility of ever returning. The projectile’s position relative to the moon had changed, and its base now faced the earth.

This change, which Barbicane verified, did not fail to surprise them. If the projectile was to gravitate round the satellite in an elliptical orbit, why was not its heaviest part turned toward it, as the moon turns hers to the earth? That was a difficult point.

Barbicane confirmed the change, and it surprised them. If the projectile was to orbit the moon in an ellipse, why didn't its heaviest part face the moon? After all, the moon turns its heaviest part toward the earth. That was a difficult question.

In watching the course of the projectile they could see that on leaving the moon it followed a course analogous to that traced in approaching her. It was describing a very long ellipse, which would most likely extend to the point of equal attraction, where the influences of the earth and its satellite are neutralized.

As they watched the projectile, they could see that it left the moon along a path similar to its approach. It was tracing a very long ellipse, which would most likely reach the point of equal attraction. There, the gravitational pulls of Earth and the moon cancel each other out.

Such was the conclusion which Barbicane very justly drew from facts already observed, a conviction which his two friends shared with him.

Barbicane was right to draw this conclusion from the facts already observed. His two friends shared his conviction.

“And when arrived at this dead point, what will become of us?” asked Michel Ardan.

“And what will happen to us when we reach this dead point?” asked Michel Ardan.

“We don’t know,” replied Barbicane.

“We don’t know,” said Barbicane.

“But one can draw some hypotheses, I suppose?”

“But we can make some guesses, I suppose?”

“Two,” answered Barbicane; “either the projectile’s speed will be insufficient, and it will remain forever immovable on this line of double attraction—”

“Two,” Barbicane answered. “Either the projectile will not be moving fast enough, and it will remain motionless forever on this line of double attraction...”

“I prefer the other hypothesis, whatever it may be,” interrupted Michel.

“I prefer the other theory, whatever it is,” Michel interrupted.

“Or,” continued Barbicane, “its speed will be sufficient, and it will continue its elliptical course, to gravitate forever around the orb of night.”

“Or,” Barbicane continued, “it will have enough speed to keep following its elliptical path, orbiting the moon forever.”

“A revolution not at all consoling,” said Michel, “to pass to the state of humble servants to a moon whom we are accustomed to look upon as our own handmaid. So that is the fate in store for us?”

“That’s not a comforting change,” said Michel. “We would become humble servants to a moon we’re used to seeing as our own servant. So is that the fate in store for us?”

Neither Barbicane nor Nicholl answered.

“You do not answer,” continued Michel impatiently.

“You’re not answering,” Michel continued impatiently.

“There is nothing to answer,” said Nicholl.

“There’s nothing to answer,” said Nicholl.

“Is there nothing to try?”

“Is there nothing we can try?”

“No,” answered Barbicane. “Do you pretend to fight against the impossible?”

“No,” answered Barbicane. “Do you intend to fight against the impossible?”

“Why not? Do one Frenchman and two Americans shrink from such a word?”

“Why not? Are one Frenchman and two Americans afraid of such a word?”

“But what would you do?”

“Subdue this motion which is bearing us away.”

“Stop this motion that is carrying us away.”

“Subdue it?”

“Control it?”

“Yes,” continued Michel, getting animated, “or else alter it, and employ it to the accomplishment of our own ends.”

“Yes,” Michel continued, growing excited, “or else change it and use it to achieve our own goals.”

“And how?”

“That is your affair. If artillerymen are not masters of their projectile they are not artillerymen. If the projectile is to command the gunner, we had better ram the gunner into the gun. My faith! fine savants! who do not know what is to become of us after inducing me—”

“That’s your problem. If artillerymen can’t control their projectile, they aren’t artillerymen. If the projectile is going to command the gunner, we might as well ram the gunner into the gun. Good heavens! What fine scientists! They don’t know what will become of us after persuading me to...”

“Inducing you!” cried Barbicane and Nicholl. “Inducing you! What do you mean by that?”

“Persuading you!” cried Barbicane and Nicholl. “Persuading you! What do you mean by that?”

“No recrimination,” said Michel. “I do not complain, the trip has pleased me, and the projectile agrees with me; but let us do all that is humanly possible to do the fall somewhere, even if only on the moon.”

“No complaints,” said Michel. “I’m not complaining. I’ve enjoyed the trip, and the projectile suits me. But let’s do everything humanly possible to land somewhere, even if it’s only on the moon.”

“We ask no better, my worthy Michel,” replied Barbicane, “but means fail us.”

“We'd like nothing better, my dear Michel,” replied Barbicane, “but we have no way to do it.”

“We cannot alter the motion of the projectile?”

“Can’t we change the projectile’s motion?”

“No.”

“Nor diminish its speed?”

“Or slow it down?”

“No.”

“Not even by lightening it, as they lighten an overloaded vessel?”

“Not even by making it lighter, as they do with an overloaded ship?”

“What would you throw out?” said Nicholl. “We have no ballast on board; and indeed it seems to me that if lightened it would go much quicker.”

“What would you throw out?” said Nicholl. “We have no ballast on board. And it seems to me that if it were lighter, it would go much faster.”

“Slower.”

“Quicker.”

“Faster.”

“Neither slower nor quicker,” said Barbicane, wishing to make his two friends agree; “for we float is space, and must no longer consider specific weight.”

“Neither slower nor faster,” said Barbicane, trying to help his two friends agree. “We are floating in space, so we no longer need to consider specific weight.”

“Very well,” cried Michel Ardan in a decided voice; “then their remains but one thing to do.”

“All right,” cried Michel Ardan firmly. “Then there’s only one thing left to do.”

“What is it?” asked Nicholl.

“Breakfast,” answered the cool, audacious Frenchman, who always brought up this solution at the most difficult juncture.

“Breakfast,” answered the cool, daring Frenchman. He always suggested this solution at the most difficult moments.

In any case, if this operation had no influence on the projectile’s course, it could at least be tried without inconvenience, and even with success from a stomachic point of view. Certainly Michel had none but good ideas.

In any case, even if the operation did not affect the projectile’s course, they could try it without any trouble. It might even be good for their stomachs. Michel certainly had nothing but good ideas.

They breakfasted then at two in the morning; the hour mattered little. Michel served his usual repast, crowned by a glorious bottle drawn from his private cellar. If ideas did not crowd on their brains, we must despair of the Chambertin of 1853. The repast finished, observation began again. Around the projectile, at an invariable distance, were the objects which had been thrown out. Evidently, in its translatory motion round the moon, it had not passed through any atmosphere, for the specific weight of these different objects would have checked their relative speed.

They ate breakfast at two in the morning, though the hour hardly mattered. Michel served his usual meal, topped off with a glorious bottle from his private cellar. If ideas did not flood their minds, we must give up hope for the Chambertin of 1853. After the meal, they began observing again. The objects they had thrown out remained around the projectile, always at the same distance. Clearly, the projectile had not passed through any atmosphere as it traveled around the moon. Otherwise, the different densities of the objects would have slowed them relative to the projectile.

On the side of the terrestrial sphere nothing was to be seen. The earth was but a day old, having been new the night before at twelve; and two days must elapse before its crescent, freed from the solar rays, would serve as a clock to the Selenites, as in its rotary movement each of its points after twenty-four hours repasses the same lunar meridian.

Nothing could be seen on the side facing Earth. The Earth was only one day old, having been new at midnight the night before. Two more days had to pass before its crescent would emerge from the sun's rays and serve as a clock for the Selenites. As the Earth rotated, each point on it passed the same lunar meridian again after twenty-four hours.

On the moon’s side the sight was different; the orb shone in all her splendor amid innumerable constellations, whose purity could not be troubled by her rays. On the disc, the plains were already returning to the dark tint which is seen from the earth. The other part of the nimbus remained brilliant, and in the midst of this general brilliancy Tycho shone prominently like a sun.

On the moon’s side, the view was different. The moon shone in all its splendor among countless constellations, whose clarity was not dimmed by its light. On the moon’s disc, the plains were already returning to the dark shade seen from Earth. The rest of the halo remained bright, and amid all this brilliance, Tycho stood out like a sun.

Barbicane had no means of estimating the projectile’s speed, but reasoning showed that it must uniformly decrease, according to the laws of mechanical reasoning. Having admitted that the projectile was describing an orbit around the moon, this orbit must necessarily be elliptical; science proves that it must be so. No motive body circulating round an attracting body fails in this law. Every orbit described in space is elliptical. And why should the projectile of the Gun Club escape this natural arrangement? In elliptical orbits, the attracting body always occupies one of the foci; so that at one moment the satellite is nearer, and at another farther from the orb around which it gravitates. When the earth is nearest the sun she is in her perihelion; and in her aphelion at the farthest point. Speaking of the moon, she is nearest to the earth in her perigee, and farthest from it in her apogee. To use analogous expressions, with which the astronomers’ language is enriched, if the projectile remains as a satellite of the moon, we must say that it is in its “aposelene” at its farthest point, and in its “periselene” at its nearest. In the latter case, the projectile would attain its maximum of speed; and in the former its minimum. It was evidently moving toward its aposelenitical point; and Barbicane had reason to think that its speed would decrease up to this point, and then increase by degrees as it neared the moon. This speed would even become nil, if this point joined that of equal attraction. Barbicane studied the consequences of these different situations, and thinking what inference he could draw from them, when he was roughly disturbed by a cry from Michel Ardan.

Barbicane had no way to measure the projectile’s speed. But the laws of mechanics showed that the speed must steadily decrease. If the projectile was orbiting the moon, its orbit must be elliptical. Science proves that this must be so. Every moving body that circles a body attracting it follows this law. Every orbit in space is elliptical. Why should the Gun Club’s projectile be an exception to this natural arrangement? In an elliptical orbit, the attracting body always occupies one of the foci. So the satellite is sometimes nearer to and sometimes farther from the body it orbits. When the earth is nearest the sun, it is at perihelion. At its farthest point, it is at aphelion. The moon is nearest the earth at perigee and farthest from it at apogee. Astronomers have added similar terms to their language. If the projectile remains a satellite of the moon, its farthest point is called its “aposelene”. Its nearest point is called its “periselene”. At periselene, the projectile would reach its maximum speed. At aposelene, it would reach its minimum speed. The projectile was evidently moving toward its aposelene. Barbicane had reason to think its speed would decrease until it reached that point. Then its speed would gradually increase as it approached the moon. Its speed would even fall to nil if the aposelene coincided with the point of equal attraction. Barbicane was studying the consequences of these different situations and considering what conclusions he could draw. Then a cry from Michel Ardan abruptly interrupted him.

“By Jove!” he exclaimed, “I must admit we are down-right simpletons!”

“Good Lord!” he exclaimed, “I have to admit we're complete fools!”

“I do not say we are not,” replied Barbicane; “but why?”

“I’m not saying we aren’t,” Barbicane replied. “But why?”

“Because we have a very simple means of checking this speed which is bearing us from the moon, and we do not use it!”

“Because we have a very simple way to check the speed carrying us away from the moon, and we're not using it!”

“And what is the means?”

“And how can we do that?”

“To use the recoil contained in our rockets.”

“To use the recoil from our rockets.”

“Done!” said Nicholl.

“We have not used this force yet,” said Barbicane, “it is true, but we will do so.”

“We haven't used this force yet,” said Barbicane, “that's true, but we will.”

“When?” asked Michel.

“When the time comes. Observe, my friends, that in the position occupied by the projectile, an oblique position with regard to the lunar disc, our rockets, in slightly altering its direction, might turn it from the moon instead of drawing it nearer?”

“When the time comes. Notice, my friends, that the projectile is at an angle to the moon's disc. If our rockets change its direction slightly, might they turn it away from the moon instead of bringing it closer?”

“Just so,” replied Michel.

“Exactly,” Michel replied.

“Let us wait, then. By some inexplicable influence, the projectile is turning its base toward the earth. It is probable that at the point of equal attraction, its conical cap will be directed rigidly toward the moon; at that moment we may hope that its speed will be nil; then will be the moment to act, and with the influence of our rockets we may perhaps provoke a fall directly on the surface of the lunar disc.”

“Then let us wait. For some inexplicable reason, the projectile is turning its base toward the earth. At the point of equal attraction, its conical cap will probably point straight toward the moon. At that moment, we may hope its speed will be zero. Then it will be time to act. With the help of our rockets, we may perhaps make it fall directly onto the lunar surface.”

“Bravo!” said Michel. “What we did not do, what we could not do on our first passage at the dead point, because the projectile was then endowed with too great a speed.”

“Bravo!” said Michel. “We didn't do that the first time we passed the dead point. We couldn't, because the projectile was moving too fast.”

“Very well reasoned,” said Nicholl.

“That makes a lot of sense,” said Nicholl.

“Let us wait patiently,” continued Barbicane. “Putting every chance on our side, and after having so much despaired, I may say I think we shall gain our end.”

“Let’s wait patiently,” Barbicane continued. “We’ve done everything we can to improve our chances, and after so much despair, I think we’ll achieve our goal.”

This conclusion was a signal for Michel Ardan’s hips and hurrahs. And none of the audacious boobies remembered the question that they themselves had solved in the negative. No! the moon is not inhabited; no! the moon is probably not habitable. And yet they were going to try everything to reach her.

This conclusion brought cheers and hurrahs from Michel Ardan. And none of the daring fools remembered the question they themselves had answered with a no. No! The moon is not inhabited. No! The moon is probably not habitable. And yet they were going to do everything they could to reach her.

One single question remained to be solved. At what precise moment the projectile would reach the point of equal attraction, on which the travelers must play their last card. In order to calculate this to within a few seconds, Barbicane had only to refer to his notes, and to reckon the different heights taken on the lunar parallels. Thus the time necessary to travel over the distance between the dead point and the south pole would be equal to the distance separating the north pole from the dead point. The hours representing the time traveled over were carefully noted, and the calculation was easy. Barbicane found that this point would be reached at one in the morning on the night of the 7th-8th of December. So that, if nothing interfered with its course, it would reach the given point in twenty-two hours.

Only one question remained. Exactly when would the projectile reach the point of equal attraction, where the travelers had to play their last card? To calculate the time within a few seconds, Barbicane only had to consult his notes. He also had to calculate the different heights recorded over the lunar parallels. Thus, the time needed to travel from the dead point to the south pole would equal the distance from the north pole to the dead point. The hours spent traveling had been carefully recorded, so the calculation was easy. Barbicane found that the projectile would reach the point at one in the morning on the night of December 7 to 8. So, if nothing interfered with its course, it would reach the point in twenty-two hours.

The rockets had primarily been placed to check the fall of the projectile upon the moon, and now they were going to employ them for a directly contrary purpose. In any case they were ready, and they had only to wait for the moment to set fire to them.

The rockets had originally been placed to slow the projectile’s fall onto the moon. Now they were going to use them for the opposite purpose. In any case, the rockets were ready. They only had to wait for the moment to light them.

“Since there is nothing else to be done,” said Nicholl, “I make a proposition.”

“Since there's nothing else to do,” said Nicholl, “I have a suggestion.”

“What is it?” asked Barbicane.

“I propose to go to sleep.”

“I suggest we go to sleep.”

“What a motion!” exclaimed Michel Ardan.

“What a movement!” exclaimed Michel Ardan.

“It is forty hours since we closed our eyes,” said Nicholl. “Some hours of sleep will restore our strength.”

“It’s been forty hours since we slept,” said Nicholl. “A few hours of sleep will restore our strength.”

“Never,” interrupted Michel.

“Never,” Michel interrupted.

“Well,” continued Nicholl, “every one to his taste; I shall go to sleep.” And stretching himself on the divan, he soon snored like a forty-eight pounder.

“Well,” Nicholl continued, “to each their own. I'm going to sleep.” He stretched out on the sofa and soon snored like a 48-pound cannon.

“That Nicholl has a good deal of sense,” said Barbicane; “presently I shall follow his example.” Some moments after his continued bass supported the captain’s baritone.

“Nicholl has a lot of sense,” said Barbicane. “I’ll follow his example soon.” A few moments later, his steady bass joined the captain’s baritone.

“Certainly,” said Michel Ardan, finding himself alone, “these practical people have sometimes most opportune ideas.”

“Certainly,” said Michel Ardan, now alone, “these practical people sometimes have very timely ideas.”

And with his long legs stretched out, and his great arms folded under his head, Michel slept in his turn.

With his long legs stretched out and his large arms folded under his head, Michel took his turn sleeping.

But this sleep could be neither peaceful nor lasting, the minds of these three men were too much occupied, and some hours after, about seven in the morning, all three were on foot at the same instant.

But their sleep could be neither peaceful nor lasting, because all three men had too much on their minds. Some hours later, at about seven in the morning, all three got up at the same time.

The projectile was still leaving the moon, and turning its conical part more and more toward her.

The projectile was still moving away from the moon, gradually turning its cone-shaped end toward it.

An explicable phenomenon, but one which happily served Barbicane’s ends.

The phenomenon could be explained, but fortunately it served Barbicane’s purposes.

Seventeen hours more, and the moment for action would have arrived.

In seventeen more hours, it would be time to act.

The day seemed long. However bold the travelers might be, they were greatly impressed by the approach of that moment which would decide all—either precipitate their fall on to the moon, or forever chain them in an immutable orbit. They counted the hours as they passed too slow for their wish; Barbicane and Nicholl were obstinately plunged in their calculations, Michel going and coming between the narrow walls, and watching that impassive moon with a longing eye.

The day seemed long. However brave the travelers were, they felt the weight of the approaching moment that would decide everything. It would either send them plunging onto the moon or trap them forever in an unchanging orbit. They counted the hours, which passed more slowly than they wished. Barbicane and Nicholl remained stubbornly absorbed in their calculations. Michel paced between the narrow walls, gazing longingly at the unmoving moon.

At times recollections of the earth crossed their minds. They saw once more their friends of the Gun Club, and the dearest of all, J. T. Maston. At that moment, the honorable secretary must be filling his post on the Rocky Mountains. If he could see the projectile through the glass of his gigantic telescope, what would he think? After seeing it disappear behind the moon’s south pole, he would see them reappear by the north pole! They must therefore be a satellite of a satellite! Had J. T. Maston given this unexpected news to the world? Was this the denouement of this great enterprise?

At times, they thought of Earth. They imagined their friends at the Gun Club, especially the dearest of them all, J. T. Maston. At that moment, the respected secretary must be at his post in the Rocky Mountains. If he could see the projectile through his gigantic telescope, what would he think? After seeing it disappear behind the moon’s south pole, he would see it reappear at the north pole! They must therefore be a satellite of a satellite! Had J. T. Maston given the world this unexpected news? Was this the outcome of their great enterprise?

But the day passed without incident. The terrestrial midnight arrived. The 8th of December was beginning. One hour more, and the point of equal attraction would be reached. What speed would then animate the projectile? They could not estimate it. But no error could vitiate Barbicane’s calculations. At one in the morning this speed ought to be and would be nil.

But the day passed without incident. Midnight arrived on Earth. December 8 was beginning. In one more hour, the projectile would reach the point of equal attraction. How fast would it be moving then? They could not estimate its speed. But there could be no error in Barbicane’s calculations. At one in the morning, its speed ought to be and would be zero.

Besides, another phenomenon would mark the projectile’s stopping-point on the neutral line. At that spot the two attractions, lunar and terrestrial, would be annulled. Objects would “weigh” no more. This singular fact, which had surprised Barbicane and his companions so much in going, would be repeated on their return under the very same conditions. At this precise moment they must act.

Besides, another phenomenon would mark the point where the projectile stopped on the neutral line. There, the Moon’s and Earth’s gravitational pulls would cancel each other out. Objects would “weigh” nothing. This strange fact had greatly surprised Barbicane and his companions on their outward journey. It would happen again on their return under exactly the same conditions. At that precise moment, they had to act.

Already the projectile’s conical top was sensibly turned toward the lunar disc, presented in such a way as to utilize the whole of the recoil produced by the pressure of the rocket apparatus. The chances were in favor of the travelers. If its speed was utterly annulled on this dead point, a decided movement toward the moon would suffice, however slight, to determine its fall.

The projectile’s conical top was already noticeably turned toward the moon’s disc. It was positioned to make full use of the recoil from the rocket apparatus. The odds favored the travelers. If the projectile came to a complete stop at this dead point, even a slight movement toward the moon would be enough to make it fall.

“Five minutes to one,” said Nicholl.

“All is ready,” replied Michel Ardan, directing a lighted match to the flame of the gas.

“Everything is ready,” replied Michel Ardan, holding a lit match to the gas flame.

“Wait!” said Barbicane, holding his chronometer in his hand.

“Wait!” said Barbicane, holding his chronometer.

At that moment weight had no effect. The travelers felt in themselves the entire disappearance of it. They were very near the neutral point, if they did not touch it.

At that moment, weight had no effect. The travelers felt completely weightless. They were very near the neutral point, if they had not reached it.

“One o’clock,” said Barbicane.

Michel Ardan applied the lighted match to a train in communication with the rockets. No detonation was heard in the inside, for there was no air. But, through the scuttles, Barbicane saw a prolonged smoke, the flames of which were immediately extinguished.

Michel Ardan touched the lighted match to a fuse connected to the rockets. No explosion was heard inside because there was no air. But through the windows, Barbicane saw a long trail of smoke, whose flames went out immediately.

The projectile sustained a certain shock, which was sensibly felt in the interior.

The projectile took a jolt that could be clearly felt inside.

The three friends looked and listened without speaking, and scarcely breathing. One might have heard the beating of their hearts amid this perfect silence.

The three friends watched and listened without speaking, barely breathing. In the perfect silence, one could almost hear their hearts beating.

“Are we falling?” asked Michel Ardan, at length.

“Are we falling?” Michel Ardan finally asked.

“No,” said Nicholl, “since the bottom of the projectile is not turning to the lunar disc!”

“No,” said Nicholl, “because the bottom of the projectile is not turning toward the Moon!”

At this moment, Barbicane, quitting his scuttle, turned to his two companions. He was frightfully pale, his forehead wrinkled, and his lips contracted.

At that moment, Barbicane turned from his porthole to his two companions. He was terribly pale, his forehead was furrowed, and his lips were tight.

“We are falling!” said he.

“We are falling!” he said.

“Ah!” cried Michel Ardan, “on to the moon?”

“Ah!” cried Michel Ardan, “to the moon?”

“On to the earth!”

“On to Earth!”

“The devil!” exclaimed Michel Ardan, adding philosophically, “well, when we came into this projectile we were very doubtful as to the ease with which we should get out of it!”

“The devil!” exclaimed Michel Ardan. He added philosophically, “Well, when we entered this projectile, we weren't at all sure how easily we could get out!”

And now this fearful fall had begun. The speed retained had borne the projectile beyond the dead point. The explosion of the rockets could not divert its course. This speed in going had carried it over the neutral line, and in returning had done the same thing. The laws of physics condemned it to pass through every point which it had already gone through. It was a terrible fall, from a height of 160,000 miles, and no springs to break it. According to the laws of gunnery, the projectile must strike the earth with a speed equal to that with which it left the mouth of the Columbiad, a speed of 16,000 yards in the last second.

And now the terrifying fall had begun. The projectile's remaining speed had carried it past the dead point. The rocket explosions could not change its course. On the way out, its speed had carried it across the neutral line. On the way back, it had done the same. The laws of physics condemned it to pass through every point it had already passed through. It was a terrible fall from a height of 160,000 miles, with no springs to cushion it. According to the laws of gunnery, the projectile had to strike the earth at the same speed it had left the mouth of the Columbiad. That speed was 16,000 yards in the final second.

But to give some figures of comparison, it has been reckoned that an object thrown from the top of the towers of Notre Dame, the height of which is only 200 feet, will arrive on the pavement at a speed of 240 miles per hour. Here the projectile must strike the earth with a speed of 115,200 miles per hour.

But for comparison, consider an object dropped from the top of the towers of Notre Dame. The towers are only 200 feet high. The object has been calculated to reach the pavement at 240 miles per hour. Here, the projectile must strike the earth at 115,200 miles per hour.

“We are lost!” said Michel coolly.

“We are lost!” Michel said calmly.

“Very well! if we die,” answered Barbicane, with a sort of religious enthusiasm, “the results of our travels will be magnificently spread. It is His own secret that God will tell us! In the other life the soul will want to know nothing, either of machines or engines! It will be identified with eternal wisdom!”

“Very well! If we die,” Barbicane answered with a kind of religious enthusiasm, “the results of our travels will be magnificently revealed. God will tell us his own secret! In the next life, the soul will have no need to know anything about machines or engines! It will become one with eternal wisdom!”

“In fact,” interrupted Michel Ardan, “the whole of the other world may well console us for the loss of that inferior orb called the moon!”

“In fact,” Michel Ardan interrupted, “the whole of the other world may well make up for the loss of that inferior moon!”

Barbicane crossed his arms on his breast, with a motion of sublime resignation, saying at the same time:

Barbicane crossed his arms over his chest in a gesture of sublime resignation, saying:

“The will of heaven be done!”

“Let heaven’s will be done!”