"Because, though we are floating in space, our projectile, bathed in the solar rays, will receive their light and heat. It economizes the gas, which is in every respect a good economy."
Indeed, under these rays which no atmosphere can temper, either in temperature or brilliancy, the projectile grew warm and bright, as if it had passed suddenly from winter to summer. The moon above, the sun beneath, were inundating it with their fire.
"It is pleasant here," said Nicholl.
"I should think so," said Michel Ardan. "With a little earth spread on our aluminium planet we should have green peas in twenty-four hours. I have but one fear, which is that the walls of the projectile might melt."
"Calm yourself, my worthy friend," replied Barbicane; "the projectile withstood a very much higher temperature than this as it slid through the strata of the atmosphere. I should not be surprised if it did not look like a meteor on fire to the eyes of the spectators in Florida."
"But then Joseph T. Maston will think we are roasted!"
"What astonishes me," said Barbicane, "is that we have not been. That was a danger we had not provided for."
"I feared it," said Nicholl simply.
"And you never mentioned it, my sublime captain," exclaimed Michel Ardan, clasping his friend's hand.
Barbicane now began to settle himself in the projectile as if he was never to leave it. One must remember that this aerial car had a base with a superficies of fifty-four square feet. Its height to the roof was twelve feet. Carefully laid out in the inside, and little encumbered by instruments and travelling utensils which each had their particular place, it left the three travellers a certain freedom of movement. The thick window inserted in the bottom could bear any amount of weight, and Barbicane and his companions walked upon it as if it were solid plank; but the sun striking it directly with its rays lit the interior of the projectile from beneath, thus producing singular effects of light.