Procope and Timascheff demurely bowed their heads.
The professor resumed. “Upon a steelyard, or spring-balance, dependent upon mere tension or flexibility, the attraction will have no influence. If I suspend a weight equivalent to the weight of a kilogramme, the index will register the proper weight on the surface of Gallia. Thus I shall arrive at the difference I want: the difference between the earth’s attraction and the comet’s. Will you, therefore, have the goodness to provide me at once with a steelyard and a tested kilogramme?”
The audience looked at one another, and then at Ben Zoof, who was thoroughly acquainted with all their resources. “We have neither one nor the other,” said the orderly.
The professor stamped with vexation.
“I believe old Hakkabut has a steelyard on board his tartan,” said Ben Zoof, presently.
“Then why didn’t you say so before, you idiot?” roared the excitable little man.
Anxious to pacify him, Servadac assured him that every exertion should be made to procure the instrument, and directed Ben Zoof to go to the Jew and borrow it.
“No, stop a moment,” he said, as Ben Zoof was moving away on his, errand; “perhaps I had better go with you myself; the old Jew may make a difficulty about lending us any of his property.”
“Why should we not all go?” asked the count; “we should see what kind of a life the misanthrope leads on board the Hansa.”
The proposal met with general approbation. Before they started, Professor Rosette requested that one of the men might be ordered to cut him a cubic decimeter out of the solid substance of Gallia. “My engineer is the man for that,” said the count; “he will do it well for you if you will give him the precise measurement.”