Farenheit’s national pride was undoubtedly pleasantly titillated by that reply, for he immediately fell silent.
“But, Papa,” said Selena, in her turn, “on what do you base your affirmation?”
“I affirm nothing; I merely suppose. First, the dimension of the comet that is carrying us is identical to Tuttle’s. Then, the angle at which it intersected Mercury’s orbit and the date at which the conjunction occurred…”
“If it really is that one, then,” Gontran said, “where is it taking us?”
“First it will take us round the Sun; then, successively, we’ll cross the orbits of Venus, the Earth, Mars and Jupiter…”
As the old man advanced in his enumeration, Flammermont’s face gradually darkened. “Where, then, will this insane journey end?” he murmured.
“In the vicinity of Saturn…a trip of about 370,000,000 leagues,” Fricoulet riposted, lightly. “Trivial, what?”131
“You can laugh,” complained the young Comte, “but if you think it amuses me to be transformed into a celestial Wandering Jew, you’re mistaken….for all of this doesn’t bring the date of my marriage any closer.”
The engineer shrugged his shoulders. All the same, he thought, if this excursion has no other result than that, I don’t think he has any grounds for complaint.
A vague hope lingered in Flammermont’s heart, though. “What if you’re mistaken, my dear Monsieur Ossipoff?” he said, abruptly. “What if the comet that’s carrying us isn’t the one that you suppose it to be?”
“Oh, that would be quite different,” replied the old man.
“Ah!” said Gontran, with an air of satisfaction.
“Yes,” the old man continued, “if I’m mistaken, this comet will describe a parabola in space.”
“With the result that…?”
“With the result that we’ll be transported toward Infinity.”
Selena put her hands together in a desperate gesture. “And we’ll never see the Earth again?” she murmured.
“Never,” Ossipoff replied. “You seem desolate at that idea—as if terrestrial humankind were something to regret.”
The young woman made no reply, but Gontran exclaimed: “But this journey must end somewhere.”
“I don’t see any reason for that.”
“I can see one, though,” retorted Flammermont, folding his arms. “I can’t play the role of fiancé forever. It’s a supernumerary position that has lasted rather a long time, and needs to be converted into a permanent entitlement before much longer.”
The old man’s only response was to raise his arms into the air.
“In any case,” the young man continued, “when everything comestible that planet contains has been consumed, it will be very advisable to stock our larder.”
“Alas,” murmured the old man, “that’s what distresses me.” He added, with a surge of enthusiasm: “It would have been so wonderful, though, to fly beyond the known worlds, into infinity itself!”
“Where would that get us?” muttered Farenheit.
“If you ask me,” Flammermont said, “we should stop on Vulcan.”132
Mikhail Ossipoff started violently. At the same time, Fricoulet gave his friend a forceful dig in the ribs, and murmured in his ear: “Imbecile!”
The young Comte’s bewilderment was total. He turned successively to the old man and the engineer, saying: “What? What’s happening? Why that tragic expression, Monsieur Ossipoff—and you, Alcide, why are you looking at me like that?”
“Oh, the fool, the fool!” muttered Fricoulet.
Ossipoff planted himself two feet in front of Flammermont. “Vulcan!” she shouted in his face. “Vulcan!”
“Well, what about Vulcan? What do you mean?”
“Did you just advise us to stop on Vulcan?”
“Yes, of course—what’s strange about that?”
The old man gave voice to a dry and mocking laugh. Then, folding his arms, with his face indignant and his lips pursed, he said: “So you believe in Vulcan?”
This question struck the young man like a cobble-stone thrown at his breast. Aargh! he thought. I’ve said something stupid!
He hesitated before replying, not knowing how he might be able to trick the old man—then, doubtless by some miracle, a certain passage in Les Continents célestes, which he had read a few days earlier, came back to his memory with a marvelous lucidity. Immediately, he understood how he could get himself out of trouble.
“So you believe in Vulcan, do you?” repeated Ossipoff, looking him up and down disdainfully.
“And why should I not believe in it?” asked the young man, boldly.
“In truth, I admire you!” the old man exclaimed. “To endow the celestial system with a new planet, you only require the affirmation of an army physician who declared, after examining the Sun for an hour, that he had seen a round black stain pass across the solar disk?” He laughed again, and added: “But that is not sufficient, Monsieur; one fabricates a planet not with one’s imagination, but with one’s eyes.”
“You will grant me, however,” replied Gontran, beginning to be intimidated by the old man’s attitude, “that Le Verrier is not just anyone, and that if the affirmation made by Dr. Lescarbault had been based on a mere optical illusion, the illustrious astronomer would not have used it as a point of departure for the studies he pursued without interruption from 1858 to 1876.”
“You’re doubtless forgetting,” Ossipoff riposted, “the prediction made by Le Verrier that the famous planet would pass in front of the solar disk on March 22, 1877, which held all the astronomers in the world breathless—who got nothing for their trouble, for nothing appeared on the solar disk on the aforementioned day.”
Flammermont was a trifle nonplussed, when Fricoulet came to his aid. “On July 29, 1878, however, during the recent eclipse of the Sun, did not Messieurs Watson and Swift announce that they had seen, in the direction of Venus, very close to the eclipsed Sun, two intramercurial planets? They were, I believe, two American astronomers.”
Farenheit who had been listening to the debate with total disinterest, suddenly straightened up and, throwing his cap into the air with an indescribable enthusiasm, cried: “Hurrah! Hurrah for Watson and Swift…for discovering the planet Vulcan, that it really exists!” Precipitating himself toward Gontran, he shook his hand energetically, saying: “You’re a scientist—a true scientist!”
Ossipoff shrugged his shoulders and looked at the American disdainfully, then turned to Gontran. “Monsieur Fricoulet is forgetting to tell you that the scientific world, more than reasonably excited by that declaration, devoted itself to observation and established that the two famous intramercurial planets were none other than the two stars Theta and Zeta Cancri.” He paused for a moment to give his declaration time to take effect, and added: “Now, Mr. Farenheit, you are free to shout Hurrah! for your American astronomers.”
The Yankee, however, out of stubbornness as much as national pride, replied: “They discovered the comet that is carrying us. Why should Vulcan, also discovered by them, not exist?”
The old man realized that he had no way to reply to such reasoning. Besides, Gontran, suddenly remembering another argument drawn from Les Continents célestes, asked: “What about the orbit calculated by the German astronomer Oppolzer?”133
“That orbit has had the same fate as the preceding items—it has also been recognized as false. You see, Monsieur de Flammermont, what the arguments on which your opinion is based are worth. Personally, I won’t hide from you that I’m very displeased with you, in consequence of this disagreement between us.”
“But, my dear Monsieur Ossipoff…” the young man stammered.
“To live happily as a family,” Ossipoff replied, shaking his head, “there must be unity; it is necessary to have a perfect similarity of opinions and ideas. Until now, I have been able to believe that that was the situation with us; I perceive, with distress, that I was mistaken. From today onwards, there is an abyss betw
een us.” And with these words, pronounced with a dolorous dignity, the old man turned on his heel and went down the hill, in order to hide his chagrin beneath the tall trees of the forest.
For a moment, Gontran and Selena remained motionless, looking at one another in amazement, asking themselves whether it was necessary to see in Ossipoff’s words a decisive rupture in their beautiful project of union.
“Gontran!” murmured the young woman, sadly.
“Selena!” he replied, taking her by the hands. Then, abruptly, he exclaimed: “To the Devil with Vulcan and those who invented it! Don’t cry, my beloved. I’ll run to find your father to make honorable amends.”
“Oh, Gontran,” she said, looking at her fiancé admiringly, “you’d sacrifice your opinions?”
“For you, Selena, what wouldn’t I do? Wait for me for a minute, and we’ll return, Monsieur Ossipoff and I, hand in hand, like a son-in-law and a father-in-law between whom no cloud exists.”
He was already setting off when Fricoulet, who was watching him, seized his arm. “One moment,” he said.
“Eh?” Gontran exclaimed. “Let me go! Can’t you see that she’s crying?”
“She’ll cry more later, if I let you go.”
“Why?”
“Because what you’re doing is obviously stupid.”
“Stupid?”
“Undoubtedly.” Lowering his voice because of Farenheit, who was listening, he went on: “What are you going to say to Monsieur Ossipoff? That you were mistaken, that you didn’t understand what you read in Les Continents célestes, that Vulcan doesn’t exist—in brief, you want to give him the proof that you’re no more an astronomer than Mr. Farenheit…”
“But when a great astronomer like Le Verrier is mistaken,” replied Flammermont, “it seems to me that…”
“It seems wrong, for that great astronomer isn’t soliciting the hand of Mademoiselle Selena, as you are. What does his error matter, in consequence?”
Selena ran to the engineer. “Monsieur Fricoulet,” she implored him, smiling through her tears, “you’re so good—help us with your advice. Tell us what we must do. Gontran is no astronomer; he doesn’t know…guide us…and whether he likes it or not, whatever you decide, I promise that he’ll do it…”
The engineer remained silent for a few moments, wearing the gloomy expression he had every time it was a matter of doing something to get the cart carrying the two fiancés’ matrimonial hopes back on the road. Finally, in a surly voice, he said: “Since you’ve asked my advice, I think the best thing for Gontran to do is to continue to play his role as he began it. Every day, one encounters scientists in the Academies and Institutes who don’t agree on any scientific matter, but who co-exist happily nevertheless.”
“You saw, however,” said Gontran, shaking his head, “how Monsieur Ossipoff greeted my theory regarding the existence of Vulcan.”
Fricoulet shrugged his shoulders brusquely. “That doesn’t prove anything,” he replied. “The man was surprised, at first—that’s understandable. Give him time to get used to the idea that his future son-in-law might also have his personal opinions, and you’ll see that it will all sort itself out.”
“You’re certain?” asked Selena, anxiously.
“Of course! But it’s necessary that Gontran doesn’t back down and that he’s ready to recommence the battle if need be—and, most of all, that he doesn’t allow your father to see through him. All would be lost.” Then, clapping the young Comte on the shoulder, amicably, he said: “Let’s go, fair-weather scientist. Lend me your Continents célestes, and come into the trees to prepare arguments that will defeat the skill of Monsieur Ossipoff!”
When it was time for the evening meal, the old man came to sit down in his usual place. He was somber and silent, enveloped in a cold and offended dignity. Facing him, Gontran—affecting a similar attitude—ate in an anxious fashion, darting covert glances at Fricoulet, who found it very difficult not to burst out laughing.
The engineer waited impatiently for an opportunity to present itself to renew the morning’s discussion. It was Farenheit who provided that opportunity, quite naturally, by asking the old man: “Would you care to make a bet with me, Monsieur Ossipoff?”
“What bet?” growled the scientist, still annoyed with the American for what he had said that morning.
“That my illustrious compatriots Watson and Swift were not mistaken in observing the existence of a new planet in the vicinity of the Sun.”
Ossipoff uttered a roar. “Now then!” he cried. “Are you determined to make me angry? I said what I had to say on the subject this morning—let’s not go back to it.” Then, in spite of himself, he asked: “What basis do you have for saying such a thing, you who have not the slightest knowledge of astronomical matters?”
“The fact that Americans are cool and methodical people who don’t get carried away, like Russians and Frenchmen…”
The old man laughed loudly. “If you’ve no other argument than that to offer for the existence of Vulcan…” he said.
At that moment, Flammeront, whose eyes never left Fricoulet, thought he saw in his friend’s face that it was time to take the offensive.
“Pardon me, Monsieur Ossipoff,” he said, in a glacial tone, “for returning to a subject that is disagreeable to you, but I can’t let the words you’ve just pronounced pass without protest. They cast further doubt on the discoveries of the illustrious Le Verrier, and…”
Ossipoff cut him short with a gesture as trenchant as a saber-thrust. “I told you, and I repeat, that Le Verrier has discovered nothing.”
“It is, however, impossible that astronomers belonging to the various nationalities of the world, having made the same observations for 20 years, are all mistaken.”
“They are mistaken, having mistaken some sunspot for a new world.”
Gontran folded his arms and declared, in a challenging tone: “In that case, would you like to tell me how you explain the perturbations in Mercury’s motion?”
“Any way you like, except by means of the planet Vulcan, which no more exists in the Heavens than in my eye.”
“Was it not, however, the irregularities observed in the motion of Uranus that led Le Verrier to search for and discover the planet Neptune? Therefore…”
“Therefore, it must be the same with regard to Mercury, mustn’t it? That’s a grave error.”
“What!” cried Gontran, simulating great overexcitement. “You haven’t answered me—how do you explain it?”
“The increase of 31 seconds that the arc of Mercury presents in the movement of its perihelion over a century?134 Quite simply by its passage through a cloud of particles gravitating around the Sun, too small to be distinguished from the Earth…but as for a planet, no, no…a thousand times no…”
“Monsieur Ossipoff,” said Fricoulet in his turn, laughing surreptitiously, “have you seen the particles of which you speak?”
“No—but why ask that question?”
“Because I’d like to know why you admit the existence of these particles, without having observed them, when you deny that of a world that some people claim to have seen.”
As the old man did not reply immediately, Farenheit took his silence for defeat. Clapping his enormous hands in the oxygenated air so that they clashed like laundry beaters, he exclaimed: “Bravo, Monsieur Fricoulet! Bravo, Monsieur de Flammermont! I renew my proposition, Monsieur Ossipoff—would you like to bet with me on the existence of Vulcan. I’ll wager $100.”
“It’s ridiculous,” muttered the old scientist.
“Ridiculous! If you say so…but if you’re as certain as you appear to be of the non-existence of the planet, you won’t reject my offer. If you win, you can use the $100 to buy a little souvenir for Mademoiselle Selena, for the occasion of her marriage.”
A profound sigh escaped Gontran’s breast.
“It’s ridiculous,” Ossipoff repeated, again.
“Will you bet or won’t you?”
“
But how will we know who has won?” asked Selena.
“Nothing will be easier,” the old man replied, “given the route that the comet is following. If it exists, we’ll be bound to encounter Vulcan.” To Gontran, he said: “By the way, you haven’t told me which orbit you prefer: Le Verrier’s, Watson and Swift’s or Oppolzer’s?”
The young man replied without hesitation: “Le Verrier’s, which takes the planet round the Sun in 33 days.”
Ossipoff sniggered. “And which is steeply inclined to the ecliptic—which explains the rarity of its appearances. That’s very intelligent on Le Verrier’s part, and yours too. Well, I repeat, if Vulcan exists, we’re bound to encounter it—so let’s wait and see.”
They did, indeed, wait for several days to pass, during which the sky was searched in every direction by Gontran and Farenheit—but fruitlessly. To play his role as a committed scientist, Flammermont had to spend long hours with is eye glued to the telescope as if he were expecting to greet the appearance of the oft-discussed star, about which he cared, privately, as much as a fish for an apple. As for Farenheit, from the moment that his compatriots, inhabitants of the United States, had affirmed the existence of Vulcan, he believed in it too, and he wanted to be the first to tell Ossipoff that he had lost his $100.
The old man shrugged his shoulders pityingly on seeing his two companions’ efforts, and even Fricoulet could not help sniggering. As for Selena, she privately hoped that Gontran might be right, and silently implored God to work a miracle in his favor by creating the planet on which her happiness was now dependent from scratch.
Such was everyone’s preoccupation that they forgot the frightful heat that was increasing further every day; had it not been for the thick atmospheric layer that surrounded the cometary nucleus, the Terrans would already have suffered sunstroke beneath the intense arrows of the Sun. The comet was now no more than 15,000,000 leagues from the all-devouring center of the system and it was drawing closer with every hour that passed. Only the nights brought a hint of freshness, attenuating the overwhelming day-time temperature. Then, Farenheit and Gontran, one armed with a pair of marine binoculars retrieved from the bottom of a box and the other with Ossipoff’s telescope, took up their observation-posts and stayed there until dawn, doggedly inspecting space.
The Extraordinary Adventures of a Russian Scientist Across the Solar System (Vol. 1) Page 57