It seemed to me that these worthy people, who were, moreover, very sincere, were all a little "cracked" (maboules), if I may be allowed so uncouth, or fin de siècle, an expression.
One day I was visiting them. The drawing-room was lighted by two large windows. I began, as usual, by some pleasantries. Their reply was in the shape of an invitation to me to take part in the experiments.
"But," said I, "if I take a seat at your table it will not turn any more, because I shall not push it."
"Come all the same."
Well, I declare upon my honor that, just for a joke, I tried it. I had scarcely put my hands on the table when it made a rush at me.
I said to the person facing me, "Don't push so hard."
"But, dear sir, I was not pushing."
I put the centre-table back in its place, but the same thing occurred again, once, twice, thrice. I began to get impatient and said,
"What you are doing is not very clever. If you want to convince me, don't push."
He replied to me, "Nobody is pushing, only you probably have so much fluid in you that the table is attracted toward you. Perhaps you could make it go, by yourself."