"Speak, then," said Nicholl, who could no longer restrain the angry tones of his voice.
"I shall speak if it suits me!" cried Michel, violently seizing his companion's arm. "It must suit you!" said Barbicane, with eyes on fire and threatening hands. "It was you who drew us into this terrible journey, and we wish to know why!"
"Yes," said the captain, "now I don't know where I am going, I will know why I am going."
"Why?" cried Michel, jumping a yard high—"why? To take possession of the moon in the name of the United States! To add a fortieth State to the Union! To colonise the lunar regions, to cultivate them, people them, to take them all the wonders of art, science, and industry! To civilise the Selenites, unless they are more civilised than we are, and to make them into a republic if they have not already done it for themselves!"
"If there are any Selenites!" answered Nicholl, who under the empire of this inexplicable intoxication became very contradictory.
"Who says there are no Selenites?" cried Michel in a threatening tone.
"I do!" shouted Nicholl.
"Captain," said Michel, "do not repeat that insult or I will knock your teeth down your throat!"
The two adversaries were about to rush upon one another, and this incoherent discussion was threatening to degenerate into a battle, when Barbicane interfered.
"Stop, unhappy men," said he, putting his two companions back to back, "if there are no Selenites, we will do without them!"