And the moment was long in coming. The discovery would not come to birth. Its failure was undermining the Professor’s health. His fainting-fits—or rather his experiments, grew more frequent, and were rapidly weakening him, and his temper suffered in consequence.
Our walks were the one thing which had not lost their power of cheering him up.
He still kept singing “Rum fil dum,” stopping every ten yards to utter some scientific truth. But the motor-car, of all things, exerted its magic over the magician, so in spite of the bad result obtained in the same conditions some months before, I had to make up my mind to speak to him during the journey in my 80 h. p., and should have done so—but for the accident.
It took place in the woods of Lourcq, three kilometers this side of Grey, as we were coming back to Fonval from a run to Vouziers.
We were climbing a slight hill at full speed. My uncle was driving. I was going over in my mind the speech which I was going to make, and was repeating to myself for the hundredth time the phrases which I had prepared some time before, while apprehension dried up my tongue. Ever since our setting-out, I had put off the attack on my tyrant from moment to moment—rehearsing the firm tone which would intimidate him. Before each turn in the road I had said to myself, “It is there I shall speak,” but we had passed through all the villages, and gone round all the turns in the road, without my being able to articulate a syllable, and now I had hardly ten minutes left!
Well, I should open fire when we got to the top of the incline.
My first phrase was ready at the gates of my memory, and was awaiting expression, when the car lurched alarmingly towards the right, then towards the left, skidding on its two side wheels.
We were going to overturn!
I seized the wheel, and put on all the brake I could, with feet and hands. The car gradually came under control, again slackened its speed, and stopped right at the top of the hill.