“‘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.’
“‘No.’
“Consider these travellers, 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?