its axis. It was just this deficiency which baffled these
daring mechanicians.
CHAPTER XX
ATTACK AND RIPOSTE
As soon as the excitement had subsided, the following words were
heard uttered in a strong and determined voice:
“Now that the speaker has favored us with so much imagination,
would he be so good as to return to his subject, and give us a
little practical view of the question?”
All eyes were directed toward the person who spoke. He was a
little dried-up man, of an active figure, with an American
“goatee” beard. Profiting by the different movements in the crowd,
he had managed by degrees to gain the front row of spectators.
There, with arms crossed and stern gaze, he watched the hero of
the meeting. After having put his question he remained silent,
and appeared to take no notice of the thousands of looks directed
toward himself, nor of the murmur of disapprobation excited by
his words. Meeting at first with no reply, he repeated his
question with marked emphasis, adding, “We are here to talk about
the _moon_ and not about the _earth_.”
“You are right, sir,” replied Michel Ardan; “the discussion has
become irregular. We will return to the moon.”
“Sir,” said the unknown, “you pretend that our satellite is inhabited.
Very good, but if Selenites do exist, that race of beings assuredly
must live without breathing, for– I warn you for your own sake–
there is not the smallest particle of air on the surface of the moon.”
At this remark Ardan pushed up his shock of red hair; he saw
that he was on the point of being involved in a struggle with
this person upon the very gist of the whole question. He looked
sternly at him in his turn and said:
“Oh! so there is no air in the moon? And pray, if you are so
good, who ventures to affirm that?
“The men of science.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
“Sir,” replied Michel, “pleasantry apart, I have a profound
respect for men of science who do possess science, but a
profound contempt for men of science who do not.”
“Do you know any who belong to the latter category?”
“Decidedly. In France there are some who maintain that,
mathematically, a bird cannot possibly fly; and others who
demonstrate theoretically that fishes were never made to
live in water.”
“I have nothing to do with persons of that description, and I
can quote, in support of my statement, names which you cannot
refuse deference to.”
“Then, sir, you will sadly embarrass a poor ignorant, who,
besides, asks nothing better than to learn.”
“Why, then, do you introduce scientific questions if you have
never studied them?” asked the unknown somewhat coarsely.
“For the reason that `he is always brave who never suspects danger.’
I know nothing, it is true; but it is precisely my very weakness
which constitutes my strength.”
“Your weakness amounts to folly,” retorted the unknown in a passion.
“All the better,” replied our Frenchman, “if it carries me up to
the moon.”
Barbicane and his colleagues devoured with their eyes the intruder
who had so boldly placed himself in antagonism to their enterprise.
Nobody knew him, and the president, uneasy as to the result of so
free a discussion, watched his new friend with some anxiety.
The meeting began to be somewhat fidgety also, for the contest
directed their attention to the dangers, if not the actual
impossibilities, of the proposed expedition.
“Sir,” replied Ardan’s antagonist, “there are many and
incontrovertible reasons which prove the absence of an
atmosphere in the moon. I might say that, _a priori_, if one
ever did exist, it must have been absorbed by the earth; but I
prefer to bring forward indisputable facts.”
“Bring them forward then, sir, as many as you please.”
“You know,” said the stranger, “that when any luminous rays
cross a medium such as the air, they are deflected out of the
straight line; in other words, they undergo refraction. Well!
When stars are occulted by the moon, their rays, on grazing the
edge of her disc, exhibit not the least deviation, nor offer the
slightest indication of refraction. It follows, therefore, that
the moon cannot be surrounded by an atmosphere.