“Decidedly it would, so long as it was undisturbed by the attraction of some considerable body; but we must recollect that, compared to the great planets, Gallia must be almost infinitesimally small, and so might be attracted by a force that is irresistible.”
“Altogether, then,” said Servadac, “we seem to have settled it to our entire satisfaction that we must be the population of a young little world called Gallia. Perhaps some day we may have the honor of being registered among the minor planets.”
“No chance of that,” quickly rejoined Lieutenant Procope. “Those minor planets all are known to rotate in a narrow zone between the orbits of Mars and Jupiter; in their perihelia they cannot approximate the sun as we have done; we shall not be classed with them.”
“Our lack of instruments,” said the count, “is much to be deplored; it baffles our investigations in every way.”
“Ah, never mind! Keep up your courage, count!” said Servadac, cheerily.
And Lieutenant Procope renewed his assurances that he entertained good hopes that every perplexity would soon be solved.
“I suppose,” remarked the count, “that we cannot attribute much importance to the last line: ‘Va bene! All right!! Parfait!!!’”
The captain answered, “At least, it shows that whoever wrote it had no murmuring or complaint to make, but was quite content with the new order of things.”