"Hurrah!" he cried. "We're moving! There's no mistake about it. The
thermometer marks 113 degrees Fahrenheit. Such a stifling heat could not
come from the gas. It comes from the exterior walls of our projectile,
which atmospheric friction must have made almost red hot. But this heat
must soon diminish, because we are already far beyond the regions of the
atmosphere, so that instead of smothering we shall be shortly in danger
of freezing."
"What?" asked Ardan, much bewildered. "We are already far beyond the
limits of the terrestrial atmosphere! Why do you think so?"
M'Nicholl was still too much flustered to venture a word.
"If you want me to answer your question satisfactorily, my dear Ardan,"
replied Barbican, with a quiet smile, "you will have the kindness to put
your questions in English."
"What do you mean, Barbican!" asked Ardan, hardly believing his ears.
"Hurrah!" cried M'Nicholl, in the tone of a man who has suddenly made a
welcome but most unexpected discovery.
"I don't know exactly how it is with the Captain," continued Barbican,
with the utmost tranquillity, "but for my part the study of the
languages never was my strong point, and though I always admired the
French, and even understood it pretty well, I never could converse in it
without giving myself more trouble than I always find it convenient to
assume.
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