We soon rose out of the range of their marksmen, and the rifle fire ceased as suddenly as it had begun. Our attention was then again drawn to the wonders and surprises of our aerial voyage.
This is a thing I cannot describe, and even to-day, after the lapse of twenty-eight years, I cannot find words to give any idea of the prodigious spectacle ceaselessly rolling at our feet, or of the deep and ineffacable impression which it produced on us. Only those who have made the ascent of high mountains can realise feebly what is a journey in the air at a height of two or three thousands yards.
Who is there who has not once in his life enjoyed that experience, who does not know the imposing calm and the absolute silence that reign over the eternal glaciers, the effect of which, in conjunction with the immense panorama which these almost inaccessible heights unfold, is to fill the spirit of the traveller with sublime admiration and a species of poetic delirium? Well, the impression left on me by this aerial journey far outstrips the fairy memories of mountain glaciers.
There was the same calm, the same absolute and grandiose silence, the same majestic response, as if at the approach of the Divinity, but the horizon was wider and the view more varied. The balloon floated on, and the horizon changed every minute with the rapidity of its course. The subdued tints of the far distance served as a sort of border to the fresher and more accentuated colours of those tracts of country that were nearer and bathed in light. Valleys and mountains followed each other and mingled like the ever-renewed waves of the sea.
The waves of the sea are an exact comparison, for there was always an immense ocean under our eyes, an ocean such as no mariner has ever beheld. It comprised and blended together all things—plain and mountain, earth and river, cities and countryside, meadows and forests. Every possible contrast was linked together, every colour and every tone stood out and was reflected, and on this great, glistening ocean under a cloudless sky the gigantic shadow of the balloon travelled like the image of some unknown spectre, striding across the universe.
I can find no further words, and think that no human speech is able to describe the fascination of the amazing scene that sprang as it were from an unknown world before our dazzled eyes.
As the balloon continued its course, sometimes slowly, as if cradled by the zephyrs, and sometimes violently agitated by the breath of the storm which was already threatening, we became accustomed to the grandeur of the ceaselessly changing spectacle.
Once recovered from our amazement, it seemed to us natural to be thus transported in an aerial vessel two thousand yards above our ordinary habitations, and we tried to make ourselves as comfortable as we could in the car. The air was fresh, and although the sun was veiled by no trace of clouds, the temperature at these altitudes was very chilly. Our first need, therefore, was to protect ourselves against the cold and to cover ourselves from the icy atmosphere with everything we could find. Our second preoccupation was hunger.
We had left Paris before nine in the morning. The fresh air had set our blood in motion and awakened our appetites. At half-past ten the crew of the “Vauban”—that was the name of the balloon—simultaneously remarked, “Luncheon.”
No sooner said than done. We had not far to go to find the restaurant, nor did our meal require great preparations.