Servadac could not quite conceal his amusement at the count’s irony, but continued, “This is Lieutenant Procope, the officer in command of the Dobryna.”
The professor bowed again in frigid dignity.
“His yacht has conveyed us right round Gallia,” added the captain.
“Round Gallia?” eagerly exclaimed the professor.
“Yes, entirely round it,” answered Servadac, and without allowing time for reply, proceeded, “And this is my orderly, Ben Zoof.”
“Aide-de-camp to his Excellency the Governor of Gallia,” interposed Ben Zoof himself, anxious to maintain his master’s honor as well as his own.
Rosette scarcely bent his head.
The rest of the population of the Hive were all presented in succession: the Russian sailors, the Spaniards, young Pablo, and little Nina, on whom the professor, evidently no lover of children, glared fiercely through his formidable spectacles. Isaac Hakkabut, after his introduction, begged to be allowed to ask one question.
“How soon may we hope to get back?” he inquired.
“Get back!” rejoined Rosette, sharply; “who talks of getting back? We have hardly started yet.”