“True,” said the count; “it is an old saying that ‘Necessity is the mother of invention.’ Besides, I should think it very unlikely that the internal heat will fail us now before the summer.”
The lieutenant declared that he entertained the same hope. As the reason of his opinion he alleged that the combustion of the eruptive matter was most probably of quite recent origin, because the comet before its collision with the earth had possessed no atmosphere, and that consequently no oxygen could have penetrated to its interior.
“Most likely you are right,” replied the count; “and so far from dreading a failure of the internal heat, I am not quite sure that we may not be exposed to a more terrible calamity still?”
“What?” asked Servadac.
“The calamity of the eruption breaking out suddenly again, and taking us by surprise.”
“Heavens!” cried the captain, “we will not think of that.”
“The outbreak may happen again,” said the lieutenant, calmly; “but it will be our fault, our own lack of vigilance, if we are taken by surprise.” And so the conversation dropped.
The 15th of January dawned; and the comet was 220,000,000 leagues from the sun.
Gallia had reached its aphelion.