“Do you think, then, that I shall not hasten to descend?”
“Descend!” said he, in surprise. “Descend? Let us begin by first ascending.”
And before I could prevent it, two more bags had been thrown over the car, without even having been emptied.
“Monsieur!” cried I, in a rage.
“Monsieur!” cried I, in a rage.
“I know your ability,” replied the unknown quietly, “and your fine ascents are famous. But if Experience is the sister of Practice, she is also a cousin of Theory, and I have studied the aerial art long. It has got into my head!” he added sadly, falling into a silent reverie.
The balloon, having risen some distance farther, now became stationary. The unknown consulted the barometer, and said,—
“Here we are, at eight hundred yards. Men are like insects. See! I think we should always contemplate them from this height, to judge correctly of their proportions. The Place de la Comédie is transformed into an immense ant-hill. Observe the crowd which is gathered on the quays; and the mountains also get smaller and smaller. We are over the Cathedral. The Main is only a line, cutting the city in two, and the bridge seems a thread thrown between the two banks of the river.”