house with a light shock. 'Save me!' cried the wretched woman. I got into the street at this moment. The car slid along the roof, and encountered an iron cramp. Madame Blanchard was thrown out of her car and precipitated upon the pavement. She was killed!"
These stories froze me with horror. The unknown was standing with hare head, disheveled hair, haggard eyes! There was no longer any illusion possible. I recognized the horrible truth. I was in the presence of a madman!
He threw out the rest of the ballast, and we must have now reached a height of, at least nine thousand yards. Blood spurted from my nose and month!
"Who are nobler than the martyrs of science?" cried the lunatic. "They are canonized by posterity."
But I no longer heard him. He bent down to my ear and muttered, "And have you forgotten Zambecarri's catastrophe? Listen. On the 7th of October, 1804, the clouds seemed to lift a little. On the preceding days, the wind and rain had not ceased; but the announced ascension of Zambecarri could not be postponed. His enemies were already bantering him. It was necessary to ascend to save the science and himself from becoming a public jest. It was at Boulogne. No one helped him to inflate his balloon. He rose at midnight, accompanied by Andreoli and Grossetti. The balloon mounted slowly, for it had been perforated by the rain, and the gas was leaking out. The three intrepid aeronauts could only observe the state of the barometer by aid of a dark lantern. Zambecarri had eaten nothing for twenty-four hours. Grossetti was also fasting.
"'My friends,' said Zambecarri, 'I am overcome by cold, and exhausted. I am dying.*
"He fell inanimate in the gallery. It was the same with Grossetti. Andreoli alone remained conscious. After long efforts, he succeeded in reviving Zambecarri.
"'What news? Whither are we going? How is the wind? What time is it?'
"'It is two o'clock.'
"'Where is the compass?'
"'Upset!"
"'Great God! The lantern has gone out!'
"'It cannot burn in this rarefied air," said Zambecarri.
"The moon had not risen and the atmosphere was plunged in murky darkness. 'I am cold, Andreoli. What shall I do?'
"They slowly descended through a layer of whitish clouds. 'Sh!' said Andreoli. 'Do you hear?'
"'What?' asked Zambecarri.
"'A strange noise.'
"'You are mistaken. Consider these travelers, in the middle of the night, listening to that unaccountable noise! Are they going to knock, against a tower? Are they about to be precipitated on the roofs? 'Do you hear? One would say it was the sea.'
"'Impossible!'
"'It is the groaning of the waves!'
"'It is true.'
"'Light! light!' After five fruitless attempts, Andreoli succeeded in obtaining light. It was three o'clock.
"The noise of violent waves was heard. They were almost touching the surface of the sea! 'We are lost!' cried Zambecarri, seizing a bag of sand.
"'Help !' cried Andreoli.
"The car touched the water, and the waves came up to their breasts. 'Throw out the instruments, clothes!'
"The aeronauts completely stripped themselves. The balloon, relieved, rose with frightful rapidity. Zambecarri was taken with vomiting. Grossetti bled profusely. The unfortunate men could not speak, so short was their breathing. They were taken with cold, and they were soon crusted over with ice. The moon looked as red as blood.
"After traversing the high regions for a half-hour, the balloon again fell into the sea. It was four in the morning. They were half submerged in the water, and the balloon dragged them along, as if under sail, for several hours.
"At daybreak they found themselves opposite Pesaro, four miles from the coast. They were about to reach it, when a gale blew them back into the open sea. They were lost! The frightened boats fled at their approach. Happily, a more intelligent boatman accosted them, hoisted them on board, and they landed at Ferrada.
"A frightful journey, was it not? But Zambecarri was a brave and energetic man. Scarcely recovered from his sufferings, he resumed his ascensions. During one of them he struck against a tree; his spirit-lamp was broken on his clothes; he was enveloped in fire, his balloon began to catch the flames, and he came down half consumed.
"At last, on the 21st of September, 1812, he made another ascension at Boulogne, The balloon clung to a tree, and his lamp again set it on fire. Zambecarri fell, and was killed! And in presence of these facts, we would still hesitate! No. The higher we go, the more glorious will be our death!"
The balloon being now entirely relieved of ballast and of all it contained, we were carried to an enormous height. It vibrated in the atmosphere. The least noise resounded in the vaults of heaven. Our globe, the only object which caught my view in immensity, seemed ready to be annihilated, and above us the depths of the starry skies were lost in thick darkness.
I saw my companion rise up before me.
"The hour is come!" he said. "We must die. We are rejected of men. They despise us. We will not endure it Let us crush them!"
"Mercy!" I cried.
"Let us cut these cords! Let this car be abandoned in space. The attractive force will change its direction, and we shall approach the sun!"
Despair galvanized me. I threw myself upon the madman, we struggled together, and a terrible conflict took place. But I was thrown down, and while he held me under his knee, the madman was cutting the cords of the car. "One!" he cried,
"My God!"
"Two! Three!"
I made a superhuman effort, rose up, and violently, repulsed the madman.
