"You'll not give us an answer when we ask
you a reasonable question?"
"Never!" cried Ardan, with great determination. "I'll never answer a
question reasonable or unreasonable, unless it is asked in a proper
manner!"
"None of your French airs here!" exclaimed M'Nicholl, by this time
almost completely out of himself between anger and excitement. "I don't
know where I am; I don't know where I'm going; I don't know why I'm
going; _you_ know all about it, Ardan, or at least you think you do!
Well then, give me a plain answer to a plain question, or by the
Thirty-eight States of our glorious Union, I shall know what for!"
"Listen, Ardan!" cried Barbican, grappling with the Frenchman, and with
some difficulty restraining him from flying at M'Nicholl's throat; "You
ought to tell him! It is only your duty! One day you found us both in
St. Helena woods, where we had no more idea of going to the Moon than of
sailing to the South Pole! There you twisted us both around your finger,
and induced us to follow you blindly on the most formidable journey ever
undertaken by man! And now you refuse to tell us what it was all for!"
"I don't refuse, dear old Barbican! To you, at least, I can't refuse
anything!" cried Ardan, seizing his friend's hands and wringing them
violently.
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