Their proximity to Venus had been close enough to demonstrate that beyond a doubt that planet has no moon or satellite such as Cassini, Short, Montaigne of Limoges, Montbarron, and some other astronomers have imagined to exist. “Had there been such a satellite,” said Servadac, “we might have captured it in passing. But what can be the meaning,” he added seriously, “of all this displacement of the heavenly bodies?”
“What is that great building at Paris, captain, with a top like a cap?” asked Ben Zoof.
“Do you mean the Observatory?”
“Yes, the Observatory. Are there not people living in the Observatory who could explain all this?”
“Very likely; but what of that?”
“Let us be philosophers, and wait patiently until we can hear their explanation.”
Servadac smiled. “Do you know what it is to be a philosopher, Ben Zoof?” he asked.
“I am a soldier, sir,” was the servant’s prompt rejoinder, “and I have learnt to know that ‘what can’t be cured must be endured.’”
The captain made no reply, but for a time, at least, he desisted from puzzling himself over matters which he felt he was utterly incompetent to explain. But an event soon afterwards occurred which awakened his keenest interest.
About nine o’clock on the morning of the 27th, Ben Zoof walked deliberately into his master’s apartment, and, in reply to a question as to what he wanted, announced with the utmost composure that a ship was in sight.