“Indeed! it will be better to ascend; we shall escape more surely;” and two bags of sand were thrown overboard.
The balloon rose rapidly, and stopped at twelve hundred metres. The cold was now intense, and there was a slight buzzing in my ears. Nevertheless, the rays of the sun fell hotly on the globe, and, dilating the gas it contained, gave it a greater ascensional force. I was stupified.
“Fear nothing,” said the young man to me.
“We have three thousand five hundred toises of respirable air. You need not trouble yourself about my proceedings.”
I would have risen, but a vigorous hand detained me on my seat.
“Your name?” asked I.
“My name! how does it concern you?”
“I have the honour to ask your name.”
“I am called Erostratus or Empedocles,—as you please. Are you interested in the progress of aerostatic science?”
He spoke with icy coldness, and I asked myself with whom I had to do.