Off on a Comet! a Journey through Planetary Space Read online

  CHAPTER III. INTERRUPTED EFFUSIONS

  Composed of mud and loose stones, and covered with a thatch of turf andstraw, known to the natives by the name of "driss," the gourbi, though agrade better than the tents of the nomad Arabs, was yet far inferiorto any habitation built of brick or stone. It adjoined an old stonehostelry, previously occupied by a detachment of engineers, and whichnow afforded shelter for Ben Zoof and the two horses. It stillcontained a considerable number of tools, such as mattocks, shovels, andpick-axes.

  Uncomfortable as was their temporary abode, Servadac and his attendantmade no complaints; neither of them was dainty in the matter either ofboard or lodging. After dinner, leaving his orderly to stow away theremains of the repast in what he was pleased to term the "cupboard ofhis stomach." Captain Servadac turned out into the open air to smoke hispipe upon the edge of the cliff. The shades of night were drawing on.An hour previously, veiled in heavy clouds, the sun had sunk below thehorizon that bounded the plain beyond the Shelif.

  The sky presented a most singular appearance. Towards the north,although the darkness rendered it impossible to see beyond a quarterof a mile, the upper strata of the atmosphere were suffused with arosy glare. No well-defined fringe of light, nor arch of luminous rays,betokened a display of aurora borealis, even had such a phenomenon beenpossible in these latitudes; and the most experienced meteorologistwould have been puzzled to explain the cause of this strikingillumination on this 31st of December, the last evening of the passingyear.

  But Captain Servadac was no meteorologist, and it is to be doubtedwhether, since leaving school, he had ever opened his "Course ofCosmography." Besides, he had other thoughts to occupy his mind. Theprospects of the morrow offered serious matter for consideration. Thecaptain was actuated by no personal animosity against the count; thoughrivals, the two men regarded each other with sincere respect; they hadsimply reached a crisis in which one of them was _de trop;_ which ofthem, fate must decide.

  At eight o'clock, Captain Servadac re-entered the gourbi, the singleapartment of which contained his bed, a small writing-table, and sometrunks that served instead of cupboards. The orderly performed hisculinary operations in the adjoining building, which he also used as abed-room, and where, extended on what he called his "good oak mattress,"he would sleep soundly as a dormouse for twelve hours at a stretch. BenZoof had not yet received his orders to retire, and ensconcing himselfin a corner of the gourbi, he endeavored to doze--a task which theunusual agitation of his master rendered somewhat difficult. CaptainServadac was evidently in no hurry to betake himself to rest, butseating himself at his table, with a pair of compasses and a sheet oftracing-paper, he began to draw, with red and blue crayons, a varietyof colored lines, which could hardly be supposed to have much connectionwith a topographical survey. In truth, his character of staff-officerwas now entirely absorbed in that of Gascon poet. Whether he imaginedthat the compasses would bestow upon his verses the measure of amathematical accuracy, or whether he fancied that the parti-coloredlines would lend variety to his rhythm, it is impossible to determine;be that as it may, he was devoting all his energies to the compilationof his rondo, and supremely difficult he found the task.

  "Hang it!" he ejaculated, "whatever induced me to choose this meter? Itis as hard to find rhymes as to rally fugitive in a battle. But, by allthe powers! it shan't be said that a French officer cannot cope with apiece of poetry. One battalion has fought--now for the rest!"

  Perseverance had its reward. Presently two lines, one red, the otherblue, appeared upon the paper, and the captain murmured:

  "Words, mere words, cannot avail, Telling true heart's tender tale."

  "What on earth ails my master?" muttered Ben Zoof; "for the last hour hehas been as fidgety as a bird returning after its winter migration."

  Servadac suddenly started from his seat, and as he paced the room withall the frenzy of poetic inspiration, read out:

  "Empty words cannot convey All a lover's heart would say."

  "Well, to be sure, he is at his everlasting verses again!" said Ben Zoofto himself, as he roused himself in his corner. "Impossible to sleep insuch a noise;" and he gave vent to a loud groan.

  "How now, Ben Zoof?" said the captain sharply. "What ails you?"

  "Nothing, sir, only the nightmare."

  "Curse the fellow, he has quite interrupted me!" ejaculated the captain."Ben Zoof!" he called aloud.

  "Here, sir!" was the prompt reply; and in an instant the orderlywas upon his feet, standing in a military attitude, one hand to hisforehead, the other closely pressed to his trouser-seam.

  "Stay where you are! don't move an inch!" shouted Servadac; "I havejust thought of the end of my rondo." And in a voice of inspiration,accompanying his words with dramatic gestures, Servadac began todeclaim:

  "Listen, lady, to my vows-- O, consent to be my spouse; Constant ever I will be, Constant...."

  No closing lines were uttered. All at once, with unutterable violence,the captain and his orderly were dashed, face downwards, to the ground.