"I like those grand words!" exclaimed Michel Ardan. "I know at once what you mean. And what is your parabola, if you please?"
"My friend," answered the captain, "a parabola is a conic section arising from cutting a cone by a plane parallel to one of its sides."
"Oh!" said Michel in a satisfied tone.
"It is about the same trajectory that the bomb of a howitzer describes."
"Just so. And an hyperbola?" asked Michel.
"It is a curve formed by a section of a cone when the cutting plane makes a greater angle with the base than the side of the cone makes."
"Is it possible?" exclaimed Michel Ardan in the most serious tone, as if he had been informed of a grave event. "Then remember this, Captain Nicholl, what I like in your definition of the hyperbola—I was going to say of the hyperhumbug—is that it is still less easy to understand than the word you pretend to define."
Nicholl and Barbicane paid no attention to Michel Ardan's jokes. They had launched into a scientific discussion. They were eager about what curve the projectile would take. One was for the hyperbola, the other for the parabola. They gave each other reasons bristling with x's. Their arguments were presented in a language which made Michel Ardan jump. The discussion was lively, and neither of the adversaries would sacrifice his curve of predilection.
This scientific dispute was prolonged until Michel Ardan became impatient, and said—
"I say, Messrs. Cosine, do leave off throwing your hyperbolas and parabolas at one's head. I want to know the only interesting thing about the business. We shall follow one or other of your curves. Very well. But where will they take us to?"