So far from showing any symptom of relief, the old miser exclaimed, with a stare of astonishment, as if he had been asked for some thousand francs: “A steelyard?”
“Yes!” echoed the professor, impatiently; “a steelyard.”
“Have you not one?” asked Servadac.
“To be sure he has!” said Ben Zoof.
Old Isaac stammered and stuttered, but at last confessed that perhaps there might be one amongst the stores.
“Then, surely, you will not object to lend it to us?” said the captain.
“Only for one day,” added the professor.
The Jew stammered again, and began to object. “It is a very delicate instrument, your Excellency. The cold, you know, the cold may do injury to the spring; and perhaps you are going to use it to weigh something very heavy.”
“Why, old Ephraim, do you suppose we are going to weigh a mountain with it?” said Ben Zoof.
“Better than that!” cried out the professor, triumphantly; “we are going to weigh Gallia with it; my comet.”