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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of In Search of a Son, by William Shepard Walsh
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: In Search of a Son
+
+Author: William Shepard Walsh
+
+Release Date: May 22, 2011 [EBook #36189]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IN SEARCH OF A SON ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Stephanie Kovalchik and the
+Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+Transcriber's note:
+
+1. Small cap has been tagged with = sign.
+
+2. When there were inconsistencies in hyphenation, the less frquent
+variant was replaced with the most frequent, e.g. "ship-board" was
+changed to "shipboard".
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+=In Search of a Son.=
+
+=BY=
+
+
+=UNCLE LAWRENCE,=
+
+=AUTHOR OF "YOUNG FOLKS' WHYS AND WHEREFORES," ETC.=
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+=PHILADELPHIA:=
+
+=J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY.=
+
+1890.
+
+Copyright, 1889, by J. B. Lippincott Company.
+
+
+
+
+TABLE OF CONTENTS.
+
+
+                                                     Page
+  CHAPTER I.
+
+    The Despatch                                        9
+
+  CHAPTER II.
+
+    Two Friends                                        18
+
+  CHAPTER III.
+
+    Monsieur Roger                                     26
+
+  CHAPTER IV.
+
+    Monsieur Roger's Story                             32
+
+  CHAPTER V.
+
+    Fire at Sea                                        39
+
+  CHAPTER VI.
+
+    Miss Miette's Fortune                              46
+
+  CHAPTER VII.
+
+    Vacation                                           53
+
+  CHAPTER VIII.
+
+    A Drawing Lesson                                   59
+
+  CHAPTER IX.
+
+    The Tower of Heurtebize                            66
+
+  CHAPTER X.
+
+    Physical Science                                   75
+
+  CHAPTER XI.
+
+    The Smoke Which Falls                              84
+
+  CHAPTER XII.
+
+    At the Centre of the Earth                         92
+
+  CHAPTER XIII.
+
+    Why Lead Is Heavier Than Cork                      99
+
+  CHAPTER XIV.
+
+    The Air-Pump                                      104
+
+  CHAPTER XV.
+
+    Drops of Rain and Hammer of Water                 114
+
+  CHAPTER XVI.
+
+    Amusing Physics                                   119
+
+  CHAPTER XVII.
+
+    Why the Moon does not Fall                        127
+
+  CHAPTER XVIII.
+
+    A Mysterious Resemblance                          138
+
+  CHAPTER XIX.
+
+    The Fixed Idea                                    146
+
+  CHAPTER XX.
+
+    Fire                                              152
+
+  CHAPTER XXI.
+
+    Saved                                             161
+
+  CHAPTER XXII.
+
+    George! George!                                   167
+
+  CHAPTER XXIII.
+
+    A Proof?                                          178
+
+  CHAPTER XXIV.
+
+    The Air and the Lungs                             184
+
+  CHAPTER XXV.
+
+    Oxygen                                            190
+
+  CHAPTER XXVI.
+
+    Why Water Puts out Fire                           200
+
+  CHAPTER XXVII.
+
+    Paul or George?                                   214
+
+  CHAPTER XXVIII.
+
+    My Father                                         222
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+IN SEARCH OF A SON.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+THE DESPATCH.
+
+
+In the great silence of the fields a far-off clock struck seven. The
+sun, an August sun, had been up for some time, lighting up and warming
+the left wing of the old French château. The tall old chestnut-trees of
+the park threw the greater part of the right wing into the shade, and in
+this pleasant shade was placed a bench of green wood, chairs, and a
+stone table.
+
+The door of the château opened, and a gentleman lightly descended the
+threshold. He was in his slippers and dressing-robe, and under the
+dressing-robe you could see his night-gown. After having thrown a
+satisfied look upon the beauty of nature, he approached the green seat,
+and seated himself before the stone table. An old servant came up and
+said,--
+
+"What will you take this morning, sir?"
+
+And as the gentleman, who did not seem to be hungry, was thinking what
+he wanted, the servant added,--
+
+"Coffee, soup, tea?"
+
+"No," said the gentleman; "give me a little vermouth and seltzer water."
+
+The servant retired, and soon returned with a tray containing the order.
+The gentleman poured out a little vermouth and seltzer water, then
+rolled a cigarette, lighted it, and, leaning back upon the rounded seat
+of the green bench, looked with pleasure at the lovely scene around him.
+On the left, in a small lake framed in the green lawn, was reflected one
+wing of the old château, as in a mirror. The bricks, whose colors were
+lighted up by the sun, seemed to be burning in the midst of the water.
+The large lawn began at the end of a gravelled walk, and seemed to be
+without limit, for the park merged into cultivated ground, and verdant
+hills rose over hills. There was not a cloud in the sky.
+
+The gentleman, after gazing for some minutes around him, got up and
+opened the door of the château. He called out, "Peter!" in a subdued
+voice, fearing, no doubt, to waken some sleeper.
+
+The servant ran out at once.
+
+"Well, Peter," said the gentleman, "have the papers come?"
+
+"No, sir; they have not yet come. That surprises me. If you wish, sir, I
+will go and meet the postman."
+
+And Peter was soon lost to sight in a little shady alley which descended
+into the high-road. In a few moments he reappeared, followed by a man.
+
+"Sir," said he, "I did not meet the letter-carrier; but here is a man
+with a telegraphic despatch."
+
+The man advanced, and, feeling in a bag suspended at his side, he
+said,--
+
+"Monsieur Dalize, I believe?"
+
+"Yes, my friend."
+
+"Well, here is a telegram for you which arrived at Sens last night."
+
+"A telegram?" said Monsieur Dalize, knitting his brows, his eyes showing
+that he was slightly surprised, and almost displeased, as if he had
+learned that unexpected news was more often bad news than good.
+Nevertheless, he took the paper, unfolded it, and looked at once at the
+signature.
+
+"Ah, from Roger," he said to himself.
+
+And then he began to read the few lines of the telegram. As he read, his
+face brightened, surprise followed uneasiness, and then a great joy
+took the place of discontent. He said to the man,--
+
+"You can carry back an answer, can you not?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"Well, Peter, bring me pen and ink at once."
+
+Peter brought pen, ink, and paper, and Monsieur Dalize wrote his
+telegram. He gave it to the man, and, feeling through his pockets,
+pulled out a louis.
+
+"Here, my good fellow," said he: "that will pay for the telegram and
+will pay you for your trouble."
+
+The man looked at the coin in the hollow of his hand in an embarrassed
+way, fearing that he had not exactly understood.
+
+"Come, now,--run," said Monsieur Dalize; "good news such as you have
+brought me cannot be paid for too dearly; only hurry."
+
+"Ah, yes, sir, I will hurry," said the man; "and thank you very much,
+thank you very much."
+
+And, in leaving, he said to himself, as he squeezed the money in his
+hand,--
+
+"I should be very glad to carry to him every day good news at such a
+price as that."
+
+When he was alone, Monsieur Dalize reread the welcome despatch. Then he
+turned around, and looked towards a window on the second floor of the
+château, whose blinds were not yet opened. From this window his looks
+travelled back to the telegram, which seemed to rejoice his heart and
+to give him cause for thought. He was disturbed in his reverie by the
+noise of two blinds opening against the wall. He rose hastily, and could
+not withhold the exclamation,--
+
+"At last!"
+
+"Oh, my friend," said the voice of a lady, in good-natured tones. "Are
+you reproaching me for waking up too late?"
+
+"It is no reproach at all, my dear wife," said Monsieur Dalize, "as you
+were not well yesterday evening."
+
+"Ah, but this morning I am entirely well," said Madame Dalize, resting
+her elbows on the sill of the window.
+
+"So much the better," cried Mr. Dalize, joyfully, "and again so much the
+better."
+
+"What light-heartedness!" said Madame Dalize, smiling.
+
+"That is because I am happy, do you know, very happy."
+
+"And the cause of this joy?"
+
+"It all lies in this little bit of paper," answered Monsieur Dalize,
+pointing to the telegram towards the window.
+
+"And what does this paper say?"
+
+"It says,--now listen,--it says that my old friend, my best friend, has
+returned to France, and that in a few hours he will be here with us."
+
+Madame Dalize was silent for an instant, then, suddenly remembering, she
+said,--
+
+"Roger,--are you speaking of Roger?"
+
+"The same."
+
+"Ah, my friend," said Madame Dalize, "now I understand the joy you
+expressed." Then she added, as she closed the window, "I will dress
+myself and be down in a moment."
+
+Hardly had the window of Madame Dalize's room closed than a little girl
+of some ten years, with a bright and pretty face surrounded by black
+curly hair, came in sight from behind the château. As she caught sight
+of Monsieur Dalize, she ran towards him.
+
+"Good-morning, papa," she said, throwing herself into his open arms.
+
+"Good-morning, my child," said Monsieur Dalize, taking the little girl
+upon his knees and kissing her over and over again.
+
+"Ah, papa," said the child, "you seem very happy this morning."
+
+"And you have noticed that too, Miette?"
+
+"Why, of course, papa; any one can see that in your face."
+
+"Well, I am very happy."
+
+Miss Mariette Dalize, who was familiarly called Miette, for short,
+looked at her father without saying anything, awaiting an explanation.
+Monsieur Dalize understood her silence.
+
+"You want to know what it is that makes me so happy?"
+
+"Yes, papa."
+
+"Well, then, it is because I am going to-day to see one of my
+friends,--my oldest friend, my most faithful friend,--whom I have not
+seen for ten long years."
+
+[Illustration]
+
+Monsieur Dalize stopped for a moment.
+
+"Indeed," he continued, "you cannot understand what I feel, my dear
+little Miette."
+
+"And why not, papa?"
+
+"Because you do not know the man of whom I speak."
+
+Miette looked at her father, and said, in a serious tone,--
+
+"You say that I don't know your best friend. Come! is it not Monsieur
+Roger?"
+
+It was now the father's turn to look at his child, and, with pleased
+surprise, he said,--
+
+"What? You know?"
+
+"Why, papa, I have so often heard you talk to mamma of your friend Roger
+that I could not be mistaken."
+
+"That is true; you are right."
+
+"Then," continued Miss Miette, "it is Mr. Roger who is going to arrive
+here?"
+
+"It is he," said Monsieur Dalize, joyously.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+But Miss Miette did not share her father's joy. She was silent for a
+moment, as if seeking to remember something very important, then she
+lowered her eyes, and murmured, sadly,--
+
+"The poor gentleman."
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+TWO FRIENDS.
+
+
+The château of Sainte-Gemme, which was some miles from the village of
+Sens, had belonged to Monsieur Dalize for some years. It was in this old
+château, which had often been restored, but which still preserved its
+dignified appearance, that Monsieur Dalize and his family had come to
+pass the summer.
+
+Monsieur Dalize had become the owner of the property of Sainte-Gemme on
+his retirement from business. He came out at the beginning of every
+May, and did not return to Paris until November. During August and
+September the family was complete, for then it included Albert Dalize,
+who was on vacation from college. With his wife and his children, Albert
+and Mariette, Monsieur Dalize was happy, but sometimes there was a cloud
+upon this happiness. The absence of a friend with whom Monsieur Dalize
+had been brought up, and the terrible sorrows which this friend had
+experienced, cast an occasional gloom over the heart of the owner of
+Sainte-Gemme. This friend was called Roger La Morlière. In the Dalize
+family he was called simply Roger. He was a distinguished chemist. At
+the beginning of his life he had been employed by a manufacturer of
+chemicals in Saint-Denis, and the close neighborhood to Paris enabled
+him frequently to see his friend Dalize, who had succeeded his father in
+a banking-house. Later, some flattering offers had drawn him off to
+Northern France, to the town of Lille. In this city Roger had found a
+charming young girl, whom he loved and whose hand he asked in marriage.
+Monsieur Dalize was one of the witnesses to this marriage, which seemed
+to begin most happily, although neither party was wealthy. Monsieur
+Dalize had already been married at this time, and husband and wife had
+gone to Lille to be present at the union of their friend Roger. Then a
+terrible catastrophe had occurred. Roger had left France and gone to
+America. Ten years had now passed. The two friends wrote each other
+frequently. Monsieur Dalize's letters were full of kindly counsels, of
+encouragement, of consolation. Roger's, though they were affectionate,
+showed that he was tired of life, that his heart was in despair.
+
+Still, Monsieur Dalize, in receiving the telegram which announced the
+return of this well-beloved friend, had only thought of the joy of
+seeing him again. The idea that this friend, whom he had known once so
+happy, would return to him broken by grief had not at first presented
+itself to his mind. Now he began to reflect. An overwhelming sorrow had
+fallen upon the man, and for ten years he had shrouded himself in the
+remembrance of this sorrow. What great changes must he have gone
+through! how different he would look from the Roger he had known!
+
+Monsieur Dalize thought over these things, full of anxiety, his eyes
+fixed upon the shaded alley in front of him.
+
+Miette had softly slipped down from her father's knees, and, seating
+herself by his side upon the bench, she remained silent, knowing that
+she had better say nothing at such a time.
+
+Light steps crunched the gravel, and Madame Dalize approached.
+
+Miss Miette had seen her mother coming, but Monsieur Dalize had seen
+nothing and heard nothing.
+
+In great astonishment Madame Dalize asked, addressing herself rather to
+her daughter than to her husband,--
+
+"What is the matter?"
+
+Miss Miette made a slight motion, as if to say that she had better not
+answer; but this time Monsieur Dalize had heard.
+
+He lifted sad eyes to his wife's face.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+"Now, where has all the joy of the morning fled, my friend?" asked
+Madame Dalize. "And why this sudden sadness?"
+
+"Because this child"--and Monsieur Dalize passed his hand through his
+daughter's thick curls--"has reminded me of the sorrows of Roger."
+
+"Miette?" demanded Madame Dalize. "What has she said to you?"
+
+"She simply said, when I spoke to her of Roger, 'The poor gentleman.'
+And she was right,--the poor gentleman, poor Roger."
+
+"Undoubtedly," answered Madame Dalize; "but ten years have passed since
+that terrible day, and time heals many wounds."
+
+"That is true; but I know Roger, and I know that he has forgotten
+nothing."
+
+"Of course, forgetfulness would not be easy to him over there, in that
+long, solitary exile; but once he has returned here to us, near his
+family, his wounds will have a chance to heal; and, in any case," added
+Madame Dalize, taking her husband's hand, "he will have at hand two
+doctors who are profoundly devoted."
+
+"Yes, my dear wife, you are right; and if he can be cured, we will know
+how to cure him."
+
+Madame Dalize took the telegram from her husband's hands, and read
+this:
+
+"=Monsieur Dalize=, Château de Sainte-Gemme, at Sens:
+
+  "=Friend=,--I am on my way home. Learn at Paris that you
+  are at Sainte-Gemme. May I come there at once?"
+
+                                                 "=Roger.="
+
+"And you answered him?"
+
+"I answered, 'We are awaiting you with the utmost impatience. Take the
+first train.'"
+
+"Will that first train be the eleven-o'clock train?"
+
+"No; I think that Roger will not be able to take the express. The man
+with the telegram will not have reached Sens soon enough, even if he
+hurried, as he promised he would. Then, the time taken to send the
+despatch, to receive it in Paris, and to take it to Roger's address
+would make it more than eleven. So our friend will have to take the next
+train; and you cannot count upon his being here before five o'clock."
+
+"Oh!" cried Miss Miette, in a disappointed tone.
+
+"What is the matter, my child?" asked Monsieur Dalize.
+
+"Why, I think----"
+
+"What do you think?"
+
+"Well, papa," Miss Miette at last said, "I think that the railroads and
+the telegrams are far too slow."
+
+Monsieur Dalize could not suppress a smile at hearing this exclamation.
+He turned to his wife, and said,--
+
+"See, how hurried is this younger generation. They think that steam and
+electricity are too slow."
+
+And, turning around to his daughter, he continued,--
+
+"What would you like to have?"
+
+"Why," answered the girl, "I would like to have Monsieur Roger here at
+once."
+
+Her wish was to be fulfilled sooner than she herself could foresee.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+MONSIEUR ROGER.
+
+
+Monsieur and Madame Dalize went back into the château, and soon
+reappeared in walking-costumes. Miette, who was playing in the shadows
+of the great chestnut-trees, looked up in surprise.
+
+"You are going out walking without me?" said she.
+
+"No, my child," answered Madame Dalize, "we are not going out to take a
+walk at all; but we have to go and make our excuses to Monsieur and
+Madame Sylvestre at the farm, because we shall not be able to dine with
+them this evening, as we had agreed."
+
+"Take me with you," said Miette.
+
+"No; the road is too long and too fatiguing for your little legs."
+
+"Are you going on foot?"
+
+"Certainly," said Monsieur Dalize. "We must keep the horses fresh to
+send them down to meet Roger at the station."
+
+Miss Miette could not help respecting so good a reason, and she resisted
+no longer.
+
+When left alone, she began seriously to wonder what she should do during
+the absence of her parents, which would certainly last over an hour. An
+idea came to her. She went into the château, passed into the
+drawing-room, took down a large album of photographs which was on the
+table, and carried it into her room. She did not have to search long. On
+the first page was the portrait of her mother, on the next was that of
+herself, Miette, and that of her brother Albert. The third page
+contained two portraits of men. One of these portraits was that of her
+father, the other was evidently the one that she was in search of, for
+she looked at it attentively.
+
+"It was a long time ago," she said to herself, "that this photograph was
+made,--ten years ago; but I am sure that I shall recognize Monsieur
+Roger all the same when he returns."
+
+At this very moment Miette heard the sound of a carriage some distance
+off. Surely the carriage was driving through the park. She listened
+with all her ears. Soon the gravelled road leading up to the château was
+crunched under the wheels of the carriage. Miette then saw an
+old-fashioned cab, which evidently had been hired at some hotel in Sens.
+The cab stopped before the threshold. Miette could not see so far from
+her window. She left the album upon her table, and ran down-stairs, full
+of curiosity. In the vestibule she met old Peter, and asked him who it
+was.
+
+"It is a gentleman whom I don't know," said Peter.
+
+"Where is he?"
+
+"I asked him into the parlor."
+
+Miette approached lightly on tiptoe to the door of the parlor, which was
+open, wishing to see without being seen. She expected she would find in
+this visitor some country neighbor. The gentleman was standing, looking
+out of the glass windows.
+
+From where she was Miette could see his profile. She made a gesture, as
+if to say, "I don't know him;" and she was going to withdraw as slowly
+as possible, with her curiosity unsatisfied, when the gentleman turned
+around. Miette now saw him directly in front of her in the full light.
+His beard and his hair were gray, his forehead was lightly wrinkled on
+the temples, a sombre expression saddened his features. His dress was
+elegant. He walked a few steps in the parlor, coming towards the door,
+but he had not yet seen Miette. In her great surprise she had quickly
+drawn herself back, but she still followed the visitor with her eyes. At
+first she had doubted now she was sure; she could not be mistaken. When
+the gentleman had reached the middle of the parlor, Miette could contain
+herself no longer. She showed herself in the doorway and advanced
+towards the visitor. He stopped, surprised at this pretty apparition.
+Miette came up to him and looked him in the eyes. Then, entirely
+convinced, holding out her arms towards the visitor, she said, softly,--
+
+"Monsieur Roger!"
+
+The gentleman in his turn looked with surprise at the pretty little girl
+who had saluted him by name. He cast a glance towards the door, and,
+seeing that she was alone, more surprised than ever, he looked at her
+long and silently.
+
+Miette, abashed by this scrutiny, drew back a little, and said, with
+hesitation,--
+
+"Tell me: you are surely Monsieur Roger?"
+
+"Yes, I am indeed Monsieur Roger," said the visitor, at last, in a voice
+full of emotion. And, with a kindly smile, he added, "How did you come
+to recognize me, Miss Miette?"
+
+Hearing her own name pronounced in this unexpected manner, Miss Miette
+was struck dumb with astonishment. At the end of a minute, she
+stammered,--
+
+"Why, sir, you know me, then, also?"
+
+"Yes, my child; I have known and loved you for a long time."
+
+And Monsieur Roger caught Miette up in his arms and kissed her
+tenderly.
+
+"Yes," he continued, "I know you, my dear child. Your father has often
+spoken of you in his letters; and has he not sent me also several of
+your photographs when I asked for them?"
+
+"Why, that is funny!" cried Miette.
+
+But she suddenly felt that the word was not dignified enough.
+
+"That is very strange," she said: "for I, too, recognized you from your
+photograph; and it was only five minutes ago, at the very moment when
+you arrived, that I was looking at it, up-stairs in my room. Shall I go
+up and find the album?"
+
+Monsieur Roger held her back.
+
+"No, my child," said he, "remain here by me, and tell me something about
+your father and your mother."
+
+Miette looked up at the clock.
+
+"Papa and mamma may return at any moment. They will talk to you
+themselves a great deal better than I can. All that I can tell you is
+that they are going to be very, very glad; but they did not expect you
+until the evening. How does it happen that you are here already?"
+
+"Because I took the first train,--the 6.30."
+
+"But your telegram?"
+
+"Yes, I sent a despatch last night on arriving at Paris, but I did not
+have the patience to wait for an answer. I departed, hoping they would
+receive me anyway with pleasure; and I already see that I was not
+mistaken."
+
+"No, Monsieur Roger," answered Miette, "you were not mistaken. You are
+going to be very happy here, very happy. There, now! I see papa and
+mamma returning."
+
+The door of the vestibule had just been opened.
+
+They could see Peter exchanging some words with his master and mistress.
+Then hurried steps were heard, and in a moment Monsieur Dalize was in
+the arms of his friend Roger. Miss Miette, who had taken her mamma by
+the arm, obliged her to bend down, and said in her ear,--
+
+"I love him already, our friend Roger."
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+MONSIEUR ROGER'S STORY.
+
+
+The evening had come, the evening of that happy day when the two
+friends, after ten years of absence, had come together again. Monsieur
+Roger had known from the first that he would find loving and faithful
+hearts just as he had left them. They were all sitting, after dinner, in
+a large vestibule, whose windows, this beautiful evening in autumn,
+opened out upon the sleeping park. For some moments the conversation had
+fallen into an embarrassing silence. Every one looked at Monsieur
+Roger. They thought that he might speak, that he might recount the
+terrible event which had broken his life; but they did not like to ask
+him anything about it. Monsieur Roger was looking at the star-sprinkled
+sky, and seemed to be dreaming, but in his deeper self he had guessed
+the thoughts of his friends and understood he ought to speak. He passed
+his hand over his forehead to chase away a painful impression, and with
+a resolute, but low and soft voice, he said,--
+
+"I see, my friends, my dear friends, I see that you expect from me the
+story of my sorrow."
+
+Monsieur and Madame Dalize made a sight gesture of negation.
+
+"Yes," continued Monsieur Roger, "I know very well that you do not wish
+it through idle curiosity, that you fear to reawaken my griefs; but to
+whom can I tell my story, if not to you? I owe it to you as a sacred
+debt, and, if I held my tongue, it seems to me a dark spot would come
+upon our friendship. You know what a lovely and charming wife I married.
+Her only fault--a fault only in the eyes of the world--was that she was
+poor. I had the same fault. When my son George came into the world I
+suddenly was filled with new ambitions. I wished, both for his sake and
+for his mother's, to amass wealth, and I worked feverishly and
+continuously in my laboratory. I had a problem before me, and at last I
+succeeded in solving it. I had discovered a new process for treating
+silver ores. Fear nothing: I am not going to enter into technical
+details; but it is necessary that I should explain to you the reason
+which made me"--here Monsieur paused, and then continued, with profound
+sadness--"which made _us_ go to America. Silver ores in most of the
+mines of North America offer very complex combinations in the sulphur,
+bromide, chloride of lime, and iodine, which I found mixed up with the
+precious metal,--that is to say, with the silver. It is necessary to
+free the silver from all these various substances. Now, the known
+processes had not succeeded in freeing the silver in all its purity.
+There was always a certain quantity of the silver which remained alloyed
+with foreign matters, and that much silver was consequently lost. The
+processes which I had discovered made it possible to obtain the entire
+quantity of silver contained in the ore. Not a fraction of the precious
+metal escaped. An English company owning some silver-mines in Texas
+heard of my discovery, and made me an offer. I was to go to Texas for
+ten years. The enterprise was to be at my own risk, but they would give
+me ten per cent on all the ore that I saved. I felt certain to succeed.
+My wife, full of faith in me, urged me to accept. What were we risking?
+A modest situation in a chemical laboratory, which I should always be
+able to obtain again. Over there on the other side of the Atlantic there
+were millions in prospect; and if I did not succeed from the beginning,
+my wife, who drew and painted better than an amateur,--as well as most
+painters, indeed,--and who had excellent letters of recommendation,
+would give drawing-lessons in New Orleans, where the company had its
+head-quarters. We decided to go; but first we came to Paris. I wished
+to say good-by to you and to show you my son, my poor little George, of
+whom I was so proud, and whom you did not know. He was then two and
+one-half years old. My decision had been taken so suddenly that I could
+not announce it to you. When we arrived in Paris, we learned that you
+were in Nice. I wrote to you,--don't you remember?" said Monsieur Roger,
+turning to Monsieur Dalize.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+"Yes, my friend; I have carefully kept that letter of farewell, full of
+hope and of enthusiasm."
+
+"We were going to embark from Liverpool on the steamer which would go
+directly to New Orleans. The steamer was called the Britannic."
+
+Monsieur Roger stopped speaking, full of emotion at this recollection.
+At the end of a long silence he again took up the thread of his story.
+
+"The first days of the journey we had had bad weather. And I had passed
+them almost entirely in our state-room with my poor wife and my little
+boy, who were very sea-sick. On the tenth day (it was the 14th of
+December) the weather cleared up, and, notwithstanding a brisk wind from
+the north-east, we were on the deck after dinner. The night had come;
+the stars were already out, though every now and then hidden under
+clouds high up in the sky, which fled quickly out of sight. We were in
+the archipelago of Bahama, not far from Florida.
+
+"'One day more and we shall be in port,' I said to my wife and to
+George, pointing in the direction of New Orleans.
+
+"My wife, full of hope,--too full, alas! poor girl,--said to me, with a
+smile, as she pointed to George,--
+
+"'And this fortune that we have come so far to find, but which we shall
+conquer without doubt, this fortune will all be for this little
+gentleman.'
+
+"George, whom I had just taken upon my knees, guessed that we were
+speaking of him, and he threw his little arms around my neck and touched
+my face with his lips."
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+FIRE AT SEA.
+
+
+"At this moment, a moment that I shall never forget, I heard a sudden
+crackling noise, strange and unexpected, coming from a point seemingly
+close to me. I turned around and saw nothing. Nevertheless, I still
+heard that sound in my ears. It was a strange sound. One might have
+thought that an immense punch had been lighted in the interior of the
+ship, and that the liquid, stirred up by invisible hands, was tossed up
+and down, hissing and crackling. The quick movement of my head had
+arrested George in the midst of his caresses. Now he looked up at me
+with astonished eyes. The uneasiness which I felt in spite of the
+absence of any cause must have appeared upon my face, for my wife,
+standing beside me, leaned over to ask, in a subdued voice,--
+
+"'What is the matter?'
+
+"I think I answered, 'Nothing.' But my mind had dwelt upon an awful
+danger,--that danger of which the most hardened seamen speak with a
+beating heart,--fire at sea. Alas! my fears were to be realized. From
+one of the hatches there suddenly leaped up a tongue of flame. At the
+same instant we heard the awful cry, 'Fire!' To add to our distress, the
+wind had increased, and had become so violent that it fanned the flames
+with terrible rapidity, and had enveloped the state-rooms in the rear,
+whence the passengers were running, trembling and crying. In a few
+minutes the back of the ship was all on fire. My wife had snatched
+George from my arms, and held him closely against her breast, ready to
+save him or die with him. The captain, in the midst of the panic of the
+passengers, gave his orders. The boats were being lowered into the
+sea,--those at least which remained, for two had already been attacked
+by the fire. Accident threw the captain between me and my wife at the
+very moment when he was crying out to his men to allow none but the
+women and children in the boats. He recognized me. I had been introduced
+to him by a common friend, and he said, in a voice choked with emotion,
+pointing to my wife and my son,--
+
+"'Embrace them!'
+
+[Illustration]
+
+"Then he tore them both from my arms and pushed and carried them to the
+last boat, which was already too full. Night had come. With the rise of
+the wind, clouds had collected, obscuring the sky. By the light of the
+fire I saw for the last time--yes, for the last time--my wife and my
+child in the boat, shaken by an angry sea. Both were looking towards me.
+Did they see me also for the last time? And in my agony I cried out,
+'George! George!' with a voice so loud that my son must surely have
+heard that last cry. Yes, he must have heard it. I stood rooted to the
+spot, looking without seeing anything, stupefied by this hopeless
+sorrow, not even feeling the intense heat of the flames, which were
+coming towards me. But the captain saw me. He ran towards me, drew me
+violently back, and threw me in the midst of the men, who were beginning
+a determined struggle against the fire which threatened to devour them.
+The instinct of life, the hope to see again my loved ones, gave me
+courage. I did as the others. Some of the passengers applied themselves
+to the chain; the pumps set in motion threw masses of water into the
+fire; but it seemed impossible to combat it, for it was alcohol which
+was burning. They had been obliged to repack part of the hold, where
+there were a number of demijohns of alcohol which the bad weather the
+first days had displaced. During the work one of these vast stone
+bottles had fallen and broken. As ill luck would have it, the alcohol
+descended in a rain upon a lamp in the story below, and the alcohol had
+taken fire. So I had not been mistaken when the first sound had made me
+think of the crackling of a punch. We worked with an energy which can
+only be found in moments of this sort. The captain inspired us with
+confidence. At one time we had hope. The flames had slackened, or at
+least we supposed so; but in fact they had only gone another way, and
+reached the powder-magazine. A violent explosion succeeded, and one of
+the masts was hurled into the sea. Were we lost? No; for the engineer
+had had a sudden inspiration. He had cut the pipes, and immediately
+directed upon the flames torrents of steam from the engine. A curtain of
+vapor lifted itself up between us and the fire, a curtain which the
+flames could not penetrate. Then the pumps worked still more
+effectually. We were saved."
+
+[Illustration]
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+MISS MIETTE'S FORTUNE.
+
+
+"The rudder no longer guided us. What a night we passed! We made a
+roll-call: how many were wanting? and the boats which contained our
+wives, our children,--had those boats found a refuge? had they reached
+land anywhere? The ocean was still rough, and, notwithstanding the
+captain's words of hope, I was in despair,--anticipating the sorrow that
+was to overwhelm me. Every one remained on deck. At daybreak a new
+feeling of sadness seized us at the sight of our steamer, deformed and
+blackened by the fire. The deck for more than forty yards was nothing
+but a vast hole, at the bottom of which were lying, pell-mell,
+half-consumed planks and beams, windlasses blackened by fire, bits of
+wood, and formless masses of metal over which the tongues of flame had
+passed. Notwithstanding all this the steamer was slowly put in motion.
+We were able to reach Havana. There we hoped we might hear some news.
+And we did hear news,--but what news! A sailing-vessel had found on the
+morrow of the catastrophe a capsized boat on the coast of the island of
+Andros, where the boat had evidently been directed. A sailor who had
+tied himself to the boat, and whom they at first thought dead, was
+recalled to life, and told his story of the fire. From Havana, where the
+sailing-vessel had stopped, a rescuing-party was at once sent out. They
+found and brought back with them the débris of boats broken against the
+rocks and also many dead bodies. These were all laid out in a large
+room, where the remaining passengers of the Britannic were invited. We
+had to count the dead; we had to identify them. With what agony, with
+what cruel heart-beats I entered the room. I closed my eyes. I tried to
+persuade myself that I would not find there the beings that were so dear
+to me. I wished to believe that they had been saved, my dear ones, while
+my other companions in misfortune were all crying and sobbing. At last I
+opened my eyes, and, the strength of my vision being suddenly increased
+to a wonderful degree, I saw that in this long line of bodies there was
+no child. That was my first thought. May my poor wife forgive me! She
+also was not there; but it was not long before she came. That very
+evening a rescuing-party brought back her corpse with the latest found."
+
+Monsieur Roger ceased speaking. He looked at his friends, Monsieur and
+Madame Dalize, who were silently weeping; then his eyes travelled to
+Miette. She was not crying; her look, sad but astonished, interested,
+questioned Monsieur Roger. He thought, "She cannot understand sorrow,
+this little girl, who has not had any trials."
+
+And the eyes of Miette seemed to answer, "But George? George? did they
+not find him?"
+
+At last Monsieur Roger understood this thought in the mind of Miette
+without any necessity on her part to express it by her lips, and, as if
+he were answering to a verbal question, he said, shaking his head,--
+
+"No, they never found him."
+
+Miette expected this answer; then she too began to weep.
+
+Monsieur Dalize repeated the last words of Monsieur Roger.
+
+"They did not find him! I do not dare to ask you, my dear friend, if you
+preserve any hope."
+
+"Yes, I hope. I forced myself to hope for a long time. But the ocean
+kept my child in the same way that it buried in its depths many other
+victims of this catastrophe, for it was that very hope that made me
+remain in America. I might have returned to France and given up my
+engagements; but there I was closer to news, if there were any; and,
+besides, in work, in hard labor to which I intended to submit my body, I
+expected to find, if not forgetfulness, at least that weariness which
+dampens the spirit. I remained ten years in Texas, and I returned to-day
+without ever having forgotten that terrible night."
+
+[Illustration]
+
+There was a silence. Then Monsieur Dalize, wishing to create a
+diversion, asked,--
+
+"How does it happen that you did not announce to me beforehand your
+return. It was not until I received your telegram this morning that we
+learned this news which made us so happy. I had no reason to expect
+that your arrival would be so sudden. Did you not say that you were to
+remain another six months, and perhaps a year, in Texas?"
+
+"Yes; and I did then think that I should be forced to prolong my stay
+for some months. My contract was ended, my work was done. I was free,
+but the mining-company wished to retain me. They wanted me to sign a new
+contract, and to this end they invented all sorts of pretexts to keep me
+where I was. As I did not wish to go to law against the people through
+whom I had made my fortune, I determined to wait, hoping that my
+patience would tire them out; and that, in fact, is what happened. The
+company bowed before my decision. This good news reached me on the eve
+of the departure of a steamer. I did not hesitate for a moment; I at
+once took ship. I might indeed have given you notice on the way, but I
+wished to reserve to myself the happiness of surprising you. It was not
+until I reached Paris that I decided to send you a despatch; and even
+then I did not have the strength to await your reply."
+
+"Dear Roger!" said Monsieur Dalize. "And then your process, your
+discovery, succeeded entirely?"
+
+"Yes, I have made a fortune,--a large fortune. I have told you that the
+enterprise was at my risk, but that the company would give me ten per
+cent. on all the ore that I would succeed in saving. Now, the mines of
+Texas used to produce four million dollars' worth a year. Thanks to my
+process, they produce nearly a million more. In ten years you can well
+see what was my portion."
+
+"Splendid!" said Monsieur Dalize; "it represents a sum of----"
+
+Madame Dalize interrupted her husband.
+
+"Miette," said she, "cannot you do that little sum for us, my child?"
+
+Miette wiped her eyes and ceased crying. Her mother's desire had been
+reached. The little girl took a pencil, and, after making her mother
+repeat the question to her, put down some figures upon a sheet of paper.
+After a moment she said, not without hesitation, for the sum appeared to
+her enormous,--
+
+"Why! it is a million dollars that Monsieur Roger has made!"
+
+"Exactly," said Monsieur Roger; "and, my dear child, you have, without
+knowing it, calculated pretty closely the fortune which you will receive
+from me as your wedding portion."
+
+Monsieur and Madame Dalize looked up with astonishment. Miette gazed at
+Monsieur Roger without understanding.
+
+"My dear friends," said Roger, turning to Monsieur and Madame Dalize,
+"you will not refuse me the pleasure of giving my fortune to Miss
+Miette. I have no one else in the world; and does not Mariette represent
+both of you? Where would my money be better placed?"
+
+And turning towards Miss Miette, he said to her,--
+
+"Yes, my child, that million will be yours on your marriage."
+
+Miette looked from her mother to her father, not knowing whether she
+ought to accept, and seriously embarrassed. With a sweet smile, Monsieur
+Roger added,--
+
+"And so, you see, you will be able to choose a husband that you like."
+
+Then, quietly and without hesitation, Miss Miette said,--
+
+"It will be Paul Solange."
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+VACATION.
+
+
+Monsieur and Madame Dalize could not help smiling in listening to this
+frank declaration of their daughter: "It will be Paul Solange."
+
+Monsieur Roger smiled in his turn, and said,--
+
+"What! has Miss Miette already made her choice?"
+
+"It is an amusing bit of childishness," answered Madame Dalize, "as you
+see. But, really, Miss Miette, although she teases him often, has a very
+kindly feeling for our friend Paul Solange."
+
+"And who is this happy little mortal?" asked Monsieur Roger.
+
+"A friend of Albert's," said Monsieur Dalize.
+
+"Albert, your son?" said Monsieur Roger, to whom this name and this word
+were always painful. Then he added,--
+
+"I should like very much to see him, your son."
+
+"You shall soon see him, my dear Roger," answered Monsieur Dalize.
+"Vacation begins to-morrow morning, and to-morrow evening Albert will be
+at Sainte-Gemme."
+
+"With Paul?" asked Miss Miette.
+
+"Why, certainly," said Madame Dalize, laughing; "with your friend Paul
+Solange."
+
+Monsieur Roger asked,--
+
+"How old is Albert at present?"
+
+"In his thirteenth year," said Monsieur Dalize.
+
+Monsieur Roger remained silent. He was thinking that his little George,
+if he had lived, would also be big now, and, like the son of Monsieur
+Dalize, would be in his thirteenth year.
+
+Next day the horses were harnessed, and all four went down to the
+station to meet the five-o'clock train. When Albert and Paul jumped out
+from the train, and had kissed Monsieur and Madame Dalize and Miss
+Miette, they looked with some surprise at Monsieur Roger, whom they did
+not know.
+
+"Albert," said Monsieur Dalize, showing Monsieur Roger to his son, "why
+don't you salute our friend Roger?"
+
+"Is this Monsieur Roger?" cried Albert, and the tone of his voice
+showed that his father had taught him to know and to love the man who
+now, with his eyes full of tears, was pressing him to his heart.
+
+"And you too, Paul, don't you want to embrace our friend?" said Monsieur
+Dalize.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+"Yes, sir," answered Paul Solange, with a sad and respectful gravity,
+which struck Monsieur Roger and at once called up his affection.
+
+On the way, Monsieur Roger, who was looking with emotion upon the two
+young people, but whose eyes were particularly fixed upon Paul, said, in
+a low voice, to Monsieur Dalize,--
+
+"They are charming children."
+
+"And it is especially Paul whom you think charming; acknowledge it,"
+answered Monsieur Dalize, in the same tone.
+
+"Why should Paul please me more than Albert?" asked Monsieur Roger.
+
+"Ah, my poor friend," replied Monsieur Dalize, "because the father of
+Albert is here and the father of Paul is far away."
+
+Monsieur Dalize was right. Monsieur Roger, without wishing it, had felt
+his sympathies attracted more strongly to this child, who was, for the
+time being, fatherless. He bent over to Monsieur Dalize, and asked,--
+
+"Where is Paul's father?"
+
+"In Martinique, where he does a big business in sugar-cane and coffee.
+Monsieur Solange was born in France, and he decided that his son should
+come here to study."
+
+"I can understand that," replied Monsieur Roger; "but what a sorrow this
+exile must cause the mother of this child!"
+
+"Paul has no mother: she died several years ago."
+
+"Poor boy!" murmured Monsieur Roger, and his growing friendship became
+all the stronger.
+
+That evening, after dinner, when coffee was being served, Miss Miette,
+who was in a very good humor, was seized with the desire to tease her
+little friend Paul.
+
+"Say, Paul," she asked, from one end of the table to the other, "how
+many prizes did you take this year?"
+
+Paul, knowing that an attack was coming, began to smile, and answered,
+good-naturedly,--
+
+"You know very well, you naughty girl. You have already asked me, and I
+have told you."
+
+"Ah, that is true," said Miette, with affected disdain: "you took one
+prize,--one poor little prize,--bah!"
+
+Then, after a moment, she continued,--
+
+"That is not like my brother: he took several prizes, _he_ did,--a prize
+for Latin, a prize for history, a prize for mathematics, a prize for
+physical science, and a prize for chemistry. Well, well! and you,--you
+only took one prize; and that is the same one you took last year!"
+
+"Yes," said Paul, without minding his friend's teasing; "but last year I
+took only the second prize, and this year I took the first."
+
+"You have made some progress," said Miss Miette, sententiously.
+
+Monsieur Roger had been interested in the dialogue.
+
+"May I ask what prize Master Paul Solange has obtained?"
+
+"A poor little first prize for drawing only," answered Miette.
+
+"Ah, you love drawing?" said Monsieur Roger, looking at Paul.
+
+But it was Miette who answered: "He loves nothing else."
+
+Monsieur Dalize now, in his turn, took up the conversation, and said,--
+
+"The truth is that our friend Paul has a passion for drawing. History
+and Latin please him a little, but for chemistry and the physical
+sciences he has no taste at all."
+
+Monsieur Roger smiled.
+
+"You are wrong," replied Monsieur Dalize, "to excuse by your smile
+Paul's indifference to the sciences.--And as to you, Paul, you would do
+well to take as your example Monsieur Roger, who would not have his
+fortune if he had not known chemistry and the physical sciences. In our
+day the sciences are indispensable."
+
+Miss Miette, who had shoved herself a little away from the table,
+pouting slightly, heard these words, and came to the defence of the one
+whom she had begun by attacking. She opened a book full of pictures, and
+advanced with it to her father.
+
+"Now, papa," she said, with a look of malice in her eyes, "did the
+gentleman who made that drawing have to know anything about chemistry or
+the physical sciences?"
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+A DRAWING LESSON.
+
+
+For a moment Monsieur Dalize was disconcerted, and knew not what to say
+in answer. Happily, Monsieur Roger came to his aid. He took the book
+from Miette's hands, looked at the engraving, and said, quietly,--
+
+"Why, certainly, my dear young friend, the gentleman who made that
+drawing ought to know something about chemistry and physical science."
+
+"How so?" said Miette, astonished.
+
+"Why, if he did not know the laws of physical science and of chemistry,
+he has, none the less, and perhaps even without knowing it himself,
+availed himself of the results of chemistry and physical science."
+
+Miette took the book back again, looked at the drawing with care, and
+said,--
+
+"Still, there are not in this drawing instruments or apparatus, or
+machines such as I have seen in my brother's books."
+
+"But," answered Monsieur Roger, smiling, "it is not necessary that you
+should see instruments and apparatus and machines, as you say, to be in
+the presence of physical phenomena; and I assure you, my dear child,
+that this drawing which is under our eyes is connected with chemistry
+and physical science."
+
+Miette now looked up at Monsieur Roger to see if he was not making fun
+of her. Monsieur Roger translated this dumb interrogation, and said,--
+
+"Come, now! what does this drawing represent? Tell me yourself."
+
+"Why, it represents two peasants,--a man and a woman,--who have returned
+home wet in the storm, and who are warming and drying themselves before
+the fire."
+
+"It is, in fact, exactly that."
+
+"Very well, sir?" asked Miette.
+
+And in this concise answer she meant to say, "In all that, what do you
+see that is connected with chemistry or physical science?"
+
+"Very well," continued Monsieur Roger; "do you see this light mist, this
+vapor, which is rising from the cloak that the peasant is drying before
+the fire?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Well, that is physical science," said Monsieur Roger.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+"How do you mean?" asked Miette.
+
+"I will explain in a moment. Let us continue to examine the picture. Do
+you see that a portion of the wood is reduced to ashes?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Do you also remark the flame and the smoke which are rising up the
+chimney?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"That is chemistry."
+
+"Ah!" said Miss Miette, at a loss for words.
+
+Every one was listening to Monsieur Roger, some of them interested, the
+others amused. Miette glanced over at her friend Paul.
+
+"What do you think of that?" she asked.
+
+Paul did not care to reply. Albert wished to speak, but he stopped at a
+gesture from his father. Monsieur Dalize knew that the real interest of
+this scene lay with Monsieur Roger, the scientist, who was already loved
+by all this little world. Miette, as nobody else answered, returned to
+Monsieur Roger.
+
+"But why," she asked, "is that physical science? Why is it chemistry?"
+
+"Because it is physical science and chemistry," said Monsieur Roger,
+simply.
+
+"Oh, but you have other reasons to give us!" said Madame Dalize, who
+understood what Monsieur Roger was thinking of.
+
+"Yes," added Miette.
+
+And even Paul, with unusual curiosity, nodded his head affirmatively.
+
+"The reasons will be very long to explain, and would bore you," said
+Monsieur Dalize, certain that he would in this way provoke a protest.
+
+The protest, in fact, came.
+
+Monsieur Roger was obliged to speak.
+
+"Well," said he, still addressing himself to Miss Miette, "this drawing
+is concerned with physical science, because the peasant, in placing his
+cloak before the heat of the fire, causes the phenomenon of evaporation
+to take place. The vapor which escapes from the damp cloth is water, is
+nothing but water, and will always be water under a different form. It
+is water modified, and modified for a moment, because this vapor, coming
+against the cold wall or other cold objects, will condense. That is to
+say, it will become again liquid water,--water similar to that which it
+was a moment ago; and that is a physical phenomenon,--for physical
+science aims to study the modifications which alter the form, the color,
+the appearance of bodies, but only their temporary modifications, which
+leave intact all the properties of bodies. Our drawing is concerned with
+chemistry, because the piece of wood which burns disappears, leaving in
+its place cinders in the hearth and gases which escape through the
+chimney. Here there is a complete modification, an absolute change of
+the piece of wood. Do what you will, you would be unable, by collecting
+together the cinders and gases, to put together again the log of wood
+which has been burned; and that is a chemical phenomenon,--for the aim
+of chemistry is to study the durable and permanent modifications, after
+which bodies retain none of their original properties. Another example
+may make more easy this distinction between physical science and
+chemistry. Suppose that you put into the fire a bar of iron. That bar
+will expand and become red. Its color, its form, its dimensions will be
+modified, but it will always remain a bar of iron. That is a physical
+phenomenon. Instead of this bar of iron, put in the fire a bit of
+sulphur. It will flame up and burn in disengaging a gas of a peculiar
+odor, which is called sulphuric acid. This sulphuric-acid gas can be
+condensed and become a liquid, but it no longer contains the properties
+of sulphur. It is no longer a piece of sulphur, and can never again
+become a piece of sulphur. The modification of this body is therefore
+durable, and therefore permanent. Now, that is a chemical phenomenon."
+
+Monsieur Roger stopped for a moment; then, paying no apparent attention
+to Paul, who, however, was listening far more attentively than one could
+imagine he would, he looked at Miette, and said,--
+
+"I don't know, my child, if I have explained myself clearly enough; but
+you must certainly understand that in their case the artist has
+represented, whether he wished to or not, the physical phenomenon and
+the chemical phenomenon."
+
+"Yes, sir," answered Miette, "I have understood quite well."
+
+"Well," said Monsieur Dalize, "since you are so good a teacher, don't
+you think that you could, during vacation, cause a little chemistry and
+a little physical science to enter into that little head?" And he
+pointed to Paul Solange.
+
+The latter, notwithstanding the sentiment of respectful sympathy which
+he felt for Monsieur Roger, and although he had listened with interest
+to his explanations, could not prevent a gesture of fear, so pronounced
+that everybody began to laugh.
+
+Miette, who wished to console her good friend Paul and obtain his pardon
+for her teasing, came up to him, and said,--
+
+"Come, console yourself, Paul; I will let you take my portrait a dozen
+times, as you did last year,--although it is very tiresome to pose for a
+portrait."
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+THE TOWER OF HEURTEBIZE.
+
+
+Next morning at six o'clock Paul Solange opened the door of the château
+and stepped out on to the lawn. He held a sketch-book in his hand. He
+directed his steps along a narrow pathway, shaded by young elms, towards
+one of the gates of the park. At a turning in the alley he found himself
+face to face with Monsieur Roger, who was walking slowly and
+thoughtfully. Paul stopped, and in his surprise could not help
+saying,--
+
+"Monsieur Roger, already up?"
+
+Monsieur answered, smiling,--
+
+"But you also, Master Paul, you are, like me, already up. Are you
+displeased to meet me?"
+
+"Oh, no, sir," Paul hastened to say, blushing a little. "Why should I be
+displeased at meeting you?"
+
+"Then, may I ask you where you are going so early in the morning?"
+
+"Over there," said Paul, stretching his hand towards a high wooded hill:
+"over there to Heurtebize."
+
+"And what are you going to do over there?"
+
+Paul answered by showing his sketch-book.
+
+"Ah, you are going to draw?"
+
+"Yes, sir; I am going to draw, to take a sketch of the tower; that old
+tower which you see on the right side of the hill."
+
+"Well, Master Paul, will you be so kind," asked Monsieur Roger, "as to
+allow me to go with you and explore this old tower?"
+
+Paul, on hearing this proposal, which he could not refuse, made an
+involuntary movement of dismay, exactly similar to that he had made the
+night before.
+
+"Oh, fear nothing," said Monsieur Roger, good-naturedly. "I will not
+bore you either with physical science nor chemistry. I hope you will
+accept me, therefore, as your companion on the way, without any
+apprehensions of that kind of annoyance."
+
+"Then, let us go, sir," answered Paul, a little ashamed to have had his
+thoughts so easily guessed.
+
+They took a short cut across the fields, passing wide expanses of
+blossoming clover; they crossed a road, they skirted fields of wheat and
+of potatoes. At last they arrived upon the wooded hill of Heurtebize, at
+the foot of the old tower, which still proudly raised its head above the
+valleys.
+
+"What a lovely landscape!" said Monsieur Roger, when he had got his
+breath.
+
+"The view is beautiful," said Paul, softly; "but it is nothing like the
+view you get up above there."
+
+"Up above?" said Monsieur Roger, without understanding.
+
+"Yes, from the summit of the tower."
+
+"You have climbed up the tower?"
+
+"Several times."
+
+"But it is falling into ruins, this poor tower; it has only one fault,
+that of having existed for two or three hundred years."
+
+"It is indeed very old," answered Paul; "it is the last vestige of the
+old château of Sainte-Gemme, which, it is said, was built in the
+sixteenth century, or possibly even a century or two earlier; nobody is
+quite certain as to the date; at all events, the former proprietors
+several years ago determined to preserve it, and they even commenced
+some repairs upon it. The interior stairway has been put in part into
+sufficiently good condition to enable you to use it, if you at the same
+time call a little bit of gymnastics to your aid, as you will have to
+do at a few places. And I have used it in this way very often; but
+please now be good enough to----"
+
+[Illustration]
+
+Paul stopped, hesitating.
+
+"Good enough to what? Tell me."
+
+Then Paul Solange added,--
+
+"To say nothing of this to Madame Dalize. That would make her uneasy."
+
+"Not only will I say nothing, my dear young friend, but I will join you
+in the ascent,--for I have the greatest desire to do what you are going
+to do, and to ascend the tower with you."
+
+Paul looked at Monsieur Roger, and said, quickly,--
+
+"But, sir, there is danger."
+
+"Bah! as there is none for you, why should there be danger for me?"
+
+Somewhat embarrassed, Paul replied,--
+
+"I am young, sir; more active than you, perhaps, and----"
+
+"If that is your only reason, my friend, do not disturb yourself. Let us
+try the ascent."
+
+"On one condition, sir."
+
+"What is that?"
+
+"That I go up first."
+
+"Yes, my dear friend, I consent. You shall go first," said Monsieur
+Roger, who would have himself suggested this if the idea had not come to
+Paul.
+
+Both of them, Monsieur Roger and Paul, had at this moment the same idea
+of self-sacrifice. Paul said to himself, "If any accident happens, it
+will happen to me, and not to Monsieur Roger." And Monsieur Roger, sure
+of his own strength, thought, "If Paul should happen to fall, very
+likely I may be able to catch him and save him."
+
+Luckily, the ascent, though somewhat difficult, was accomplished
+victoriously, and Monsieur Roger was enabled to recognize that the
+modified admiration which Paul Solange felt for the landscape, as seen
+from below, was entirely justified.
+
+Paul asked,--
+
+"How high is this tower? A hundred feet?"
+
+"Less than that, I think," answered Monsieur Roger. "Still, it will be
+easy to find out exactly in a moment."
+
+"In a moment?" asked Paul.
+
+"Yes, in a moment."
+
+"Without descending?"
+
+"No; we will remain where we are."
+
+Paul made a gesture which clearly indicated, "I would like to see that."
+
+Monsieur Roger understood.
+
+"There is no lack of pieces of stone in this tower; take one," said he
+to Paul.
+
+Paul obeyed.
+
+"You will let this stone fall to the earth at the very moment that I
+tell you to do so."
+
+Monsieur Roger drew out his watch and looked carefully at the
+second-hand.
+
+"Now, let go," he said.
+
+Paul opened his hand; the stone fell. It could be heard striking the
+soil at the foot of the tower. Monsieur Roger, who during the fall of
+the stone had had his eyes fixed upon his watch, said,--
+
+"The tower is not very high." Then he added, after a moment of
+reflection, "The tower is sixty-two and a half feet in height."
+
+Paul looked at Monsieur Roger, thinking that he was laughing at him.
+Monsieur Roger lifted his eyes to Paul; he looked quite serious. Then
+Paul said, softly,--
+
+"The tower is sixty feet high?"
+
+"Sixty-two and a half feet,--for the odd two and a half feet must not be
+forgotten in our computation."
+
+Paul was silent. Then, seeing that Monsieur Roger was ready to smile,
+and mistaking the cause of this smile, he said,--
+
+"You are joking, are you not? You cannot know that the tower is really
+sixty feet high?"
+
+"Sixty-two feet and six inches," repeated Monsieur Roger again. "That is
+exact. Do you want to have it proved to you?"
+
+"Oh, yes, sir," said Paul Solange, with real curiosity.
+
+"Very well. Go back to the château, and bring me a ball of twine and a
+yard-measure."
+
+"I run," said Paul.
+
+"Take care!" cried Monsieur Roger, seeing how quickly Paul was hurrying
+down the tower.
+
+When Paul had safely reached the ground, Monsieur Roger said to himself,
+with an air of satisfaction,--
+
+"Come, come! we will make something out of that boy yet!"
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+PHYSICAL SCIENCE.
+
+
+Paul returned to the tower more quickly than Monsieur Roger had
+expected. Instead of returning to the château, he had taken the shortest
+cut, had reached the village, and had procured there the two things
+wanted. He climbed up the tower and arrived beside Monsieur Roger,
+holding out the ball of twine and the yard-stick.
+
+"You are going to see, you little doubter, that I was not wrong," said
+Monsieur Roger.
+
+He tied a stone to the twine, and let it down outside the tower to the
+ground.
+
+"This length of twine," he said, "represents exactly the height of the
+tower, does it not?"
+
+"Yes, sir," answered Paul.
+
+Monsieur Roger made a knot in the twine at the place where it rested on
+the top of the tower. Then he asked Paul to take the yard-stick which he
+had brought, and to hold it extended between his two hands. Then,
+drawing up the twine which hung outside the tower, he measured it yard
+by yard. Paul counted. When he had reached the number sixty, he could
+not help bending over to see how much remained of the twine.
+
+"Ah, sir," he cried, "I think you have won."
+
+"Let us finish our count," said Monsieur Roger, quietly.
+
+And Paul counted,--
+
+"Sixty-one, sixty-two,--sixty-two feet----"
+
+"And?"
+
+"And six inches!" cried Paul.
+
+"I have won, as you said, my young friend," cried Monsieur Roger, who
+enjoyed Paul's surprise. "Now let us cautiously descend and return to
+the château, where the breakfast-bell will soon ring."
+
+The descent was made in safety, and they directed their steps towards
+Sainte-Gemme. Paul walked beside Monsieur Roger without saying anything.
+He was deep in thought.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+Monsieur Roger, understanding what was going on in the brain of his
+friend, took care not to disturb him. He waited, hoping for an answer.
+His hope was soon realized. As they reached the park, Paul, who, after
+thinking a great deal, had failed to solve the difficulty, said, all of
+a sudden,--
+
+"Monsieur Roger!"
+
+"What, my friend?"
+
+"How did you measure the tower?"
+
+Monsieur Roger looked at Paul, and, affecting a serious air, he said,--
+
+"It is impossible, entirely impossible for me to answer."
+
+"Impossible?" cried Paul, in surprise.
+
+"Yes, impossible."
+
+"Why, please?"
+
+"Because in answering I will break the promise that I have made
+you,--the promise to say nothing about chemistry or physical science."
+
+"Ah!" said Paul, becoming silent again.
+
+Monsieur Roger glanced at his companion from the corner of his eye,
+knowing that his curiosity would soon awake again. At the end of the
+narrow, shady pathway they soon saw the red bricks of the château
+shining in the sun; but Paul had not yet renewed his question, and
+Monsieur Roger began to be a little uneasy,--for, if Paul held his
+tongue, it would show that his curiosity had vanished, and another
+occasion to revive it would be difficult to find.
+
+Luckily, Paul decided to speak at the very moment when they reached the
+château.
+
+"Then," said he, expressing the idea which was uppermost,--"Then it is
+physical science?"
+
+Monsieur Roger asked, in an indifferent tone,--
+
+"What is physical science?"
+
+"Your method of measuring the tower."
+
+"Yes, it is physical science, as you say. Consequently, you see very
+well that I cannot answer you."
+
+"Ah, Monsieur Roger," said Paul, embarrassed, "you are laughing at me."
+
+"Not at all, my friend. I made a promise; I must hold to it. I have a
+great deal of liking for you, and I don't want you to dislike me."
+
+"Oh, sir!"
+
+Suddenly they heard the voice of Monsieur Dalize, who cried,
+cheerfully,--
+
+"See, they are already quarrelling!"
+
+For some moments Monsieur Dalize, at the door of the vestibule,
+surrounded by his wife and his children, had been gazing at the two
+companions. Monsieur Roger and Paul approached.
+
+"What is the matter?" asked Monsieur Dalize, shaking hands with his
+friend.
+
+"A very strange thing has happened," answered Monsieur Roger.
+
+"And what is that?"
+
+"Simply that Master Paul wants me to speak to him of physical science."
+
+An astonished silence, soon followed by a general laugh, greeted these
+words. Miss Miette took a step forward, looked at Paul with an uneasy
+air, and said,--
+
+"Are you sick, my little Paul?"
+
+Paul, confused, kept silent, but he answered by a reproachful look the
+ironical question of his friend Miette.
+
+"But whence could such a change have come?" asked Madame Dalize,
+addressing Monsieur Roger. "Explain to us what has happened."
+
+"Here are the facts," answered Monsieur Roger. "We had climbed up the
+tower of Heurtebize----"
+
+Madame Dalize started, and turned a look of uneasiness towards Paul.
+
+"Paul was not at fault," Monsieur Roger hastened to add. "I was the
+guilty one. Well, we were up there, when Master Paul got the idea of
+estimating the height of the tower. I answered that nothing was more
+simple than to know it at once. I asked him to let fall a stone. I
+looked at my watch while the stone was falling, and I said, 'The tower
+is sixty-two feet and six inches high.' Master Paul seemed to be
+astonished. He went after a yard-stick and some twine. We measured the
+tower, and Master Paul has recognized that the tower is in fact
+sixty-two feet and six inches high. Now he wants me to tell him how I
+have been able so simply, with so little trouble, to learn the height.
+That is a portion of physical science; and, as I made Master Paul a
+promise this very morning not to speak to him of physical science nor of
+chemistry, you see it is impossible for me to answer."
+
+Monsieur Dalize understood at once what his friend Roger had in view,
+and, assuming the same air, he answered,--
+
+"Certainly, it is impossible; you are perfectly right. You promised; you
+must keep your promise."
+
+"Unless," said Miss Miette, taking sides with her friend Paul,--"unless
+Paul releases Monsieur Roger from his promise."
+
+"You are entirely right, my child," said Monsieur Roger; "should Paul
+release me sufficiently to ask me to answer him. But, as I remarked to
+you a moment ago, I fear that he will repent too quickly, and take a
+dislike to me. That I should be very sorry for."
+
+"No, sir, I will not repent. I promise you that."
+
+"Very well," said Miette; "there is another promise. You know that you
+will have to keep it."
+
+"But," answered Monsieur Roger, turning to Paul, "it will be necessary
+for me to speak to you of weight, of the fall of bodies, of gravitation;
+and I am very much afraid that that will weary you."
+
+"No, sir," answered Paul, very seriously, "that will not weary me. On
+the contrary, that will interest me, if it teaches me how you managed to
+calculate the height of the tower."
+
+"It will certainly teach you that."
+
+"Then I am content," said Paul.
+
+"And I also," said Monsieur Roger to himself, happy to have attained his
+object so soon.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+THE SMOKE WHICH FALLS.
+
+
+In the evening, after dinner, Monsieur Roger, to whom Paul recalled his
+promise, asked Miette to go and find him a pebble in the pathway before
+the château. When he had the bit of stone in his hand, Monsieur Roger
+let it fall from the height of about three feet.
+
+"As you have just heard and seen," said he, addressing Paul, "this stone
+in falling from a small height produces only a feeble shock, but if it
+falls from the height of the house upon the flagstones of the pavement,
+the shock would be violent enough to break it."
+
+Monsieur Roger interrupted himself, and put this question to Paul:
+
+"Possibly you may have asked yourself why this stone should fall. Why do
+bodies fall?"
+
+"Goodness knows," said the small voice of Miss Miette in the midst of
+the silence that followed.
+
+"Miette," said Madame Dalize, "be serious, and don't answer for others."
+
+"But, mamma, I am sure that Paul would have answered the same as I
+did:--would you not, Paul?"
+
+Paul bent his head slightly as a sign that Miette was not mistaken.
+
+"Well," continued Monsieur Roger, "another one before you did ask
+himself this question. It was a young man of twenty-three years, named
+Newton. He found himself one fine evening in a garden, sitting under an
+apple-tree, when an apple fell at his feet. This common fact, whose
+cause had never awakened the attention of anybody, filled all his
+thoughts; and, as the moon was shining in the heavens, Newton asked
+himself why the moon did not fall like the apple."
+
+"That is true," said Miette; "why does not the moon fall?"
+
+"Listen, and you will hear," said Monsieur Dalize.
+
+Monsieur Roger continued:
+
+"By much reflection, by hard work and calculation, Newton made an
+admirable discovery,--that of universal attraction. Yes, he discovered
+that all bodies, different though they may be, attract each other: they
+draw towards each other; the bodies which occupy the celestial
+spaces,--planets and suns,--as well as the bodies which are found upon
+our earth. The force which attracts bodies towards the earth, which made
+this stone fall, as Newton's apple fell, has received the name of
+weight. Weight, therefore, is the attraction of the earth for articles
+which are on its surface. Why does this table, around which we find
+ourselves, remain in the same place? Why does it not slide or fly away?
+Simply because it is retained by the attraction of the earth. I have
+told you that all bodies attract each other. It is therefore quite true
+that in the same way as the earth attracts the table, so does the table
+attract the earth."
+
+"Like a loadstone," said Albert Dalize.
+
+"Well, you may compare the earth in this instance to a loadstone. The
+loadstone draws the iron, and iron draws the loadstone, exactly as the
+earth and the table draw each other; but you can understand that the
+earth attracts the table with far more force than the table attracts the
+earth."
+
+"Yes," said Miette; "because the earth is bigger than the table."
+
+"Exactly so. It has been discovered that bodies attract each other in
+proportion to their size,--that is to say, the quantity of matter
+that they contain. On the other hand, the farther bodies are from each
+other the less they attract each other. I should translate in this
+fashion the scientific formula which tells us that bodies attract each
+other in an inverse ratio to the square of the distance. I would remind
+you that the square of a number is the product obtained by multiplying
+that number by itself. So all bodies are subject to that force which we
+call weight; all substances, all matter abandoned to itself, falls to
+the earth."
+
+[Illustration]
+
+Just here Miss Miette shifted uneasily on her chair, wishing to make an
+observation, but not daring.
+
+"Come, Miss Miette," said Monsieur Roger, who saw this manoeuvre, "you
+have something to tell us. Your little tongue is itching to say
+something. Well, speak; we should all like to hear you."
+
+"Monsieur Roger," said Miette, "is not smoke a substance?"
+
+"Certainly; the word substance signifies something that exists. Smoke
+exists. Therefore it is a substance."
+
+"Then," replied Miette, with an air of contentment with herself, "as
+smoke is a substance, there is one substance which does not fall to the
+earth. Indeed, it does just the opposite."
+
+"Ah! Miss Miette wants to catch me," said Monsieur Roger.
+
+Miette made a gesture of modest denial, but at heart she was very proud
+of the effect which she had produced, for every one looked at her with
+interest.
+
+"To the smoke of which you speak," continued Monsieur Roger, "you might
+add balloons, and even clouds."
+
+"Certainly, that is true," answered Miette, näively.
+
+"Very well; although smoke and balloons rise in the air instead of
+falling, although clouds remain suspended above our heads, smoke and
+balloons and clouds are none the less bodies with weight. What prevents
+their fall is the fact that they find themselves in the midst of the
+air, which is heavier than they are. Take away the air and they would
+fall."
+
+"Take away the air?" cried Miette, with an air of doubt, thinking that
+she was facing an impossibility.
+
+"Yes, take away the air," continued Monsieur Roger; "for that can be
+done. There even exists for this purpose a machine, which is called an
+air-pump. You place under a glass globe a lighted candle. Then you make
+a vacuum,--that is to say, by the aid of the air-pump you exhaust the
+air in the globe; soon the candle is extinguished for want of air, but
+the wick of the candle continues for some instants to produce smoke.
+Now, you think, I suppose, that that smoke rises in the globe?"
+
+"Certainly," said Miette.
+
+"No, no, not at all; it falls."
+
+"Ah! I should like to see that!" cried Miette.
+
+"And, in order to give you the pleasure of seeing this, I suppose you
+would like an air-pump?"
+
+"Well, papa will buy me one.--Say, papa, won't you do it, so we may see
+the smoke fall?"
+
+"No, indeed!" said Monsieur Dalize; "how can we introduce here
+instruments of physical science during vacation? What would Paul say?"
+
+"Paul would say nothing. I am sure that he is just as anxious as I am to
+see smoke fall.--Are you not, Paul?"
+
+And Paul Solange, already half-conquered, made a sign from the corner of
+his eye to his little friend that her demand was not at all entirely
+disagreeable to him.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+CHAPTER XII.
+
+AT THE CENTRE OF THE EARTH.
+
+
+Monsieur Roger, hiding his satisfaction, seemed to attach no importance
+to this request of Miette under the assent given by Paul. Wishing to
+profit by the awakened curiosity of his little friend, he hastened to
+continue, and said,--
+
+"Who wants to bring me a bit of cork and a glass of water?"
+
+"I! I!" cried Miette, running.
+
+When Miette had returned with the articles, Monsieur Roger continued:
+
+"I told you a moment ago that if balloons and smoke and clouds do not
+fall, it is because they find themselves in the midst of air which is
+heavier than they are. I am going to try an experiment which will make
+you understand what I have said."
+
+Monsieur Roger took the cork, raised his hand above his head, and opened
+his fingers: the cork fell.
+
+"Is it a heavy body?" said he. "Did it fall to the ground?"
+
+"Yes," cried Paul and Miette together.
+
+Then Monsieur Roger placed the glass of water in front of him, took the
+cork, which Miette had picked up, and forced it with his finger to the
+bottom of the glass; then he withdrew his finger, and the cork mounted
+up to the surface again.
+
+"Did you see?" asked Monsieur Roger.
+
+"Yes," said Miss Miette.
+
+"You remarked something?"
+
+"Certainly: the cork would not fall, and you were obliged to force it
+into the water with your finger."
+
+"And not only," continued Monsieur Roger, "it would not fall, as you
+say, but it even hastened to rise again as soon as it was freed from the
+pressure of my finger. We were wrong, then, when we said that this same
+cork is a heavy body?"
+
+"Ah, I don't know," said Miette, a little confused.
+
+"Still, we must know. Did this cork fall just now upon the ground?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Then it was a heavy body?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And now that it remains on the surface of the water, that it no longer
+precipitates itself towards the earth, it is no longer a heavy body?"
+
+This time Miette knew not what to answer.
+
+"Well, be very sure," continued Monsieur Roger, "that it is heavy. If it
+does not fall to the bottom of the water, it is because the water is
+heavier than it. The water is an obstacle to it. Nevertheless, it is
+attracted, like all bodies, towards the earth, or, more precisely,
+towards the centre of the earth."
+
+"Towards the centre of the earth?" repeated Miette.
+
+"Yes, towards the centre of the earth. Can Miss Miette procure for me
+two pieces of string and two heavy bodies,--for example, small pieces of
+lead?"
+
+"String, yes; but where can I get lead?" asked Miette.
+
+"Look in the box where I keep my fishing-tackle," said Monsieur Dalize
+to his daughter, "and find two sinkers there."
+
+Miette disappeared, and came back in a moment with the articles desired.
+Monsieur Roger tied the little pieces of lead to the two separate
+strings. Then he told Miette to hold the end of one of these strings in
+her fingers. He himself did the same with the other string. The two
+strings from which the sinkers were suspended swayed to and fro for some
+seconds, and then stopped in a fixed position.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+"Is it not evident," said Monsieur Roger, "that the direction of our
+strings is the same as the direction in which the force which we call
+weight attracts the bodies of lead? In fact, if you cut the string, the
+lead would go in that direction. The string which Miss Miette is
+holding and that which I hold myself seem to us to be parallel,--that is
+to say, that it seems impossible they should ever meet, however long the
+distance which they travel. Well, that is an error. For these two
+strings, if left to themselves, would meet exactly at the centre of the
+earth."
+
+"Then," said Miette, "if we detach the sinkers, they would fall, and
+would join each other exactly at the centre of the earth?"
+
+"Yes, if they encountered no obstacle; but they would be stopped by the
+resistance of the ground. They would attempt to force themselves
+through, and would not succeed."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Why, if the ground which supports us did not resist, we would not be at
+this moment chatting quietly here on the surface of the earth; drawn by
+gravity, we would all be----"
+
+"At the centre of the earth!" cried Miette.
+
+"Exactly. And it might very well happen that I would not then be in a
+mood to explain to you the attraction of gravity."
+
+"Yes, that is very probable," said Miss Miette, philosophically. Then
+she added, "If, instead of letting these bits of lead fall upon the
+ground, we let them fall in water?"
+
+"Well, they would approach the centre of the earth for the entire depth
+of the water."
+
+Miette had mechanically placed the sinker above the glass of water. She
+let it fall into it; the cork still swam above.
+
+"Why does the lead fall to the bottom of the water, and why does the
+cork not fall?"
+
+"Why," said Albert, "because lead is heavier than cork."
+
+Miette looked at her brother, and then turned her eyes towards Monsieur
+Roger, as if the explanation given by Albert explained nothing, and
+finally she said,--
+
+"Of course lead is heavier than cork; but why is it heavier?"
+
+"My child, you want to know a great deal," said Madame Dalize.
+
+"Ah, mamma, it is not my fault,--it is Paul's, who wants to know, and
+does not like to ask. I am obliged to ask questions in his stead."
+
+That was true. Paul asked no questions, but he listened with attention,
+and his eyes seemed to approve the questions asked by his friend Miette.
+Monsieur Roger had observed with pleasure the conduct of his young
+friend, and it was for him, while he was looking at Miette, the latter
+continued:
+
+"Tell us, Monsieur Roger, why is lead heavier than cork?"
+
+"Because its density is greater," answered Monsieur Roger, seriously.
+
+"Ah!" murmured Miette, disappointed; and, as Monsieur Roger kept silent,
+she added, "What is density?"
+
+"It would take a long time to explain."
+
+"Tell me all the same."
+
+Monsieur Roger saw at this moment that Paul was beckoning to Miette to
+insist.
+
+"Goodness!" said he, smiling at Paul; "Miss Miette was right just now.
+It is you that wish me to continue the questions!"
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+CHAPTER XIII.
+
+WHY LEAD IS HEAVIER THAN CORK.
+
+
+Monsieur Roger continued in these words:
+
+"We say that a body has density when it is thick and packed close. We
+give the name of density to the quantity of matter contained in a body
+of a certain size.
+
+"Let us suppose that this bit of lead has the same bulk--that is to say,
+that it is exactly as big--as the cork. Suppose, also, that we have a
+piece of gold and a piece of stone, also of the same bulk as the cork,
+and that we weigh each different piece in a pair of scales. We would
+find that cork weighs less than stone, that stone weighs less than lead,
+and that lead weighs less than gold. But, in order to compare these
+differences with each other, it has been necessary to adopt a standard
+of weight.
+
+"I now return to Miss Miette's question,--'Why is lead heavier than
+cork?'--a question to which I had solemnly answered, 'Because its
+density is greater.' Miss Miette must now understand that cork, weighing
+four times less than water, cannot sink in water, although that process
+is very easy to lead, which weighs eleven times more than water. And
+yet," said Monsieur Roger, "the problem is not perfectly solved, and I
+am quite sure that Miss Miette is not entirely satisfied."
+
+Miss Miette remained silent.
+
+"I was not mistaken. Miss Miette is not satisfied," said Monsieur Roger;
+"and she is right,--for I have not really explained to her why lead is
+heavier than cork."
+
+Miss Miette made a gesture, which seemed to say, "That is what I was
+expecting."
+
+"I said just now," continued Monsieur Roger, "that the density of a body
+was the quantity of matter contained in this body in a certain bulk. Now
+does Miss Miette know what matter is?"
+
+"No."
+
+"No! Now, there is the important thing: because, in explaining to her
+what matter is, I will make her understand why lead is heavier than
+cork."
+
+"Well, I am listening," said Miette.
+
+And Master Paul respectfully added, in an undertone, "We are listening."
+
+Monsieur Roger continued:
+
+"The name of 'bodies' has been given to all objects which, in infinite
+variety, surround us and reveal themselves to us by the touch, taste,
+sight, and smell. All these bodies present distinct properties; but
+there are certain numbers of properties which are common to all. Those
+all occupy a certain space; all are expanded by heat, are contracted by
+cold, and can even pass from the solid to the liquid state, and from the
+liquid to the gaseous state. They all possess a certain amount of
+elasticity, a certain amount of compressibility,--in a word, there exist
+in all bodies common characteristics: so they have given a common name
+to those possessing these common properties, and called that which
+constitutes bodies 'matter.' Bodies are not compact, as you may imagine.
+They are, on the contrary, formed by the union of infinitely small
+particles, all equal to each other and maintained at distances that are
+relatively considerable by the force of attraction.
+
+"These infinitely small particles have received the names of atoms or
+molecules. Imagine a pile of bullets, and remark the empty spaces left
+between them, and you will have a picture of the formation of bodies. I
+must acknowledge to you that no one has yet seen the molecules of a
+body. Their size is so small that no microscope can ever be made keen
+enough to see them. A wise man has reached this conclusion: That if you
+were to look at a drop of water through a magnifying instrument which
+made it appear as large as the whole earth, the molecules which compose
+this drop of water would seem hardly bigger than bits of bird-shot.
+Still, this conception of the formation of bodies is proved by certain
+properties which matter enjoys. Among these properties I must especially
+single out divisibility. Matter can be divided into parts so small that
+it is difficult to conceive of them. Gold-beaters, for instance, succeed
+in making gold-leaf so thin that it is necessary to place sixty thousand
+one on top of the other to arrive at the thickness of an inch. I will
+give you two other examples of 'divisibility' that are still more
+striking. For years, hardly losing any of its weight, a grain of musk
+spreads a strong odor. In a tubful of water one single drop of indigo
+communicates its color. The smallness of these particles of musk which
+strike the sense of smell and of these particles of indigo which color
+several quarts of water is beyond our imagination to conceive of. And
+these examples prove that bodies are nothing but a conglomeration of
+molecules. Now, if lead is heavier than cork, it is because in an equal
+volume it contains a far more considerable quantity of molecules, and
+because these molecules are themselves heavier than the molecules of
+cork. And now I shall stop," said Monsieur Roger, "after this long but
+necessary explanation. I will continue on the day when Miss Miette will
+present to me the famous air-pump."
+
+"That will not be very long from now," said Miss Miette to herself.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+CHAPTER XIV.
+
+THE AIR-PUMP.
+
+
+Monsieur Roger had deferred his explanations for three days. He was
+awaiting the air-pump which Monsieur Dalize, at Miette's desire, had
+decided to purchase in Paris. Monsieur Roger judged that this
+interruption and this rest were necessary. In this way his hearers would
+not be tired too soon, and their curiosity, remaining unsatisfied for
+the moment, would become more eager. He was not mistaken; and when a
+large box containing the air-pump and other objects ordered by Monsieur
+Roger arrived, a series of cries of astonishment came from the pretty
+mouth of Miss Miette. Paul Solange, however, remained calm; but
+Monsieur Roger knew that his interest had been really awakened. They
+spent the afternoon in unpacking the air-pump, and Monsieur Roger was
+called upon at once to explain the instrument.
+
+"The machine," he said, "is called an air-pump because it is intended to
+exhaust air contained in a vase or other receptacle. To exhaust the air
+in a vase is to make a vacuum in that vase. You will see that this
+machine is composed of two cylinders, or pump-barrels, out of which
+there comes a tube, which opens in the centre of this disk of glass.
+Upon this disk we carefully place this globe of glass; and now we are
+going to exhaust the air contained in the globe."
+
+"We are going to make a vacuum," said Miette.
+
+"Exactly." And Monsieur Roger commenced to work the lever. "You will
+take notice," he said, "that when the lever is lowered at the left the
+round piece of leather placed in the cylinder on the left side is
+lowered, and that the bit of leather in the right-hand cylinder is
+raised. In the same way, when the lever is lowered at the right, it is
+the right-hand piece of leather which is lowered, while the piece of
+leather at the left is raised in its turn. These round bits of leather,
+whose importance is considerable, are called pistons. Each piston is
+hollow and opens into the air on top, while at the bottom, which
+communicates with that portion of the cylinder situated below the
+piston, there is a little hole, which is stopped by a valve. This valve
+is composed of a little round bit of metal, bearing on top a vertical
+stem, around which is rolled a spring somewhat in the shape of a coil or
+ringlet. The ends of this spring rest on one side on a little bit of
+metal, on the other on a fixed rest, pierced by a hole in which the stem
+of the valve can freely go up and down. When I work the lever, as I am
+doing now, you see that on the left side the piston lowers itself in the
+cylinder, and that the piston on the right is raised. Now, what is going
+on in the interior of each cylinder? The piston of the left, in
+lowering, disturbs the air contained in the cylinder,--it forces it
+down, it compresses it. Under this compression the coiled spring gives
+way, the round bit of metal is raised, and opens the little hole which
+puts the under part of the piston in communication with the atmosphere.
+The air contained in the cylinder passes in this way across the piston
+and disperses itself in the air which surrounds us. But the spring makes
+the bit of metal fall back again and closes the communication in the
+right-hand cylinder as soon as the piston commences to rise and the
+pressure of the air in the cylinder is not greater than the pressure of
+the atmosphere outside. Lastly, the tube which unites the cylinders to
+the glass globe opens at the end of each cylinder, but a little on the
+side. It is closed by a little cork, carried by a metal stem which
+traverses the whole piston. When I cause one of the pistons to lower,
+the piston brings the stem down with it. The cork at once comes in
+contact with the hole, which closes; the stem is then stopped, but the
+piston continues to descend by sliding over it. In the other
+cylinder, in which the piston is raised, it commences by raising the
+stem, which re-establishes communication with the glass globe; but as
+soon as the top of the stem comes in contact with the upper part of the
+cylinder, it stops and the piston glides over it and continues to rise."
+
+[Illustration]
+
+"In this fashion the movements of the cork are very small, and it opens
+and shuts the orifice as soon as one of the pistons begins to descend
+and the other begins to ascend. Consequently, by working the lever for a
+certain space of time, I will finish by exhausting the globe of all the
+air which it contains."
+
+"May I try to exhaust it?" asked Miette, timidly.
+
+"Try your hand, Miss Miette," answered Monsieur Roger.
+
+Miette began to work the lever of the air-pump, which she did at first
+very easily, but soon she stopped.
+
+"I cannot do it any more," said she.
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Because it is too heavy."
+
+"In fact, it is too heavy," said Monsieur Roger; "but tell me, what is
+it that is too heavy?"
+
+Miette sought an answer.
+
+"Oh, I do not know. It is the lever or the pistons which have become all
+of a sudden too heavy."
+
+"Not at all; that is not it. Neither the lever nor the pistons can
+change their weight."
+
+"Then, what is it that is so heavy?"
+
+"Come, now! Try once more, with all your strength."
+
+Miette endeavored to lower the right-hand side of the lever: she could
+not succeed.
+
+"Why," said she, "it is, of course, the piston on the left which has
+become too heavy, as I cannot make it rise again."
+
+"You are right, Miss Miette. It is the piston in the left cylinder which
+cannot rise; but it has not changed its weight, as I said,--only it has
+now to support a very considerable weight; and it is that weight which
+you cannot combat."
+
+"What weight is it?" said Miette, who did not understand.
+
+"The weight of the air."
+
+"The weight of the air? But what air?"
+
+"The air which is above it,--the exterior air; the air which weighs down
+this piston, as it weighs us down."
+
+"Does air weigh much?"
+
+"If you are very anxious to know, I will tell you that a wine gallon of
+air weighs about seventy-two grains; and as in the atmosphere--that is
+to say, in the mass of air which surrounds us--there is a very great
+number of gallons, you can imagine that it must represent a respectable
+number of pounds. It has been calculated, in fact, that each square inch
+of the surface of the soil supports a weight of air of a little more
+than sixteen pounds."
+
+"But how is that?" cried Miette. "A while ago there was also a
+considerable quantity of air above the piston, and yet I could make it
+go up very easily."
+
+"Certainly, there was above the piston the same quantity of air as now,
+but there was air also in the globe. Air, like gas, possesses an elastic
+force,--that is to say, that it constantly endeavors to distend its
+molecules, and presses without ceasing upon the sides of the vase which
+contained it, or upon the surrounding air. Now, when you began to work
+the lever there was still enough air in the globe to balance, through
+its elastic force, the air outside; and, as the piston receives an
+almost equal pressure of air from the atmosphere above and from the
+globe below, it is easily raised and lowered. But while you were working
+the lever you took air out of the globe, so that at last there arrived a
+time when so little air remained in this globe that its elastic force
+acted with little power upon the piston. So the piston was submitted to
+only one pressure,--that of the atmosphere; and, as I have just told
+you, the atmosphere weighs heavy enough to withstand your little
+strength. Still, all the air in the globe is not yet exhausted, and a
+stronger person, like Master Paul, for example, could still be able to
+conquer the resistance of the atmosphere and raise the piston."
+
+Paul Solange could not refuse this direct invitation, and he approached
+the air-pump and succeeded in working the lever, though with a certain
+difficulty.
+
+Meanwhile, Monsieur Roger was seeking among the physical instruments
+which had just arrived. He soon found a glass cylinder, whose upper
+opening was closed by a bit of bladder stretched taut and carefully tied
+upon the edges.
+
+"Stop, Master Paul," said he: "we are going to exchange the globe for
+this cylinder, and you will see very readily that the air is heavy. Now
+take away the globe."
+
+But, though Paul tried his best, he could not succeed in obeying this
+order. The globe remained firm in its place.
+
+"That is still another proof of the weight of the air," said Monsieur
+Roger. "The globe is empty of air; and as there is no longer any
+pressure upon it except from outside,--the pressure of the
+atmosphere,--Master Paul is unable to raise it."
+
+"He would be able to raise the glass," said Miss Miette, in a
+questioning tone, "but he cannot lift the air above it?"
+
+"You are exactly right. But you are going to see an experiment which
+will prove it. First, however, it will be necessary to take away the
+globe. I am going to ask Miss Miette to turn this button, which is
+called the key of the air-pump."
+
+Miette turned the key, and then they heard a whistling sound.
+
+"It is the air which is entering the globe," said Monsieur Roger. "Now
+Master Paul can take the globe away."
+
+That was true. When Paul took away the globe, Monsieur Roger put in its
+place the cylinder closed by the bit of bladder. Then he worked the
+handle of the machine again. As the air was withdrawn from the interior
+of the cylinder, the membrane was heard to crackle. Suddenly it burst,
+with a sort of explosion, to the great surprise of Miette and the
+amusement of everybody.
+
+"What is the matter?" said Miette, eagerly.
+
+"The matter is," answered Monsieur Roger, "that the exterior air weighed
+so heavily upon the membrane that it split it; and that is what I want
+to show you. The moment arrived when the pressure of the atmosphere was
+no longer counterbalanced by the elastic force of the air contained in
+the cylinder. Then that exhausted all the air, and the atmosphere came
+down with all its weight upon the membrane, which, after resisting for a
+little while, was torn."
+
+"Is it true, Monsieur Roger," said Miette, "that it is with this machine
+that you can make smoke fall?"
+
+"Certainly."
+
+"Well, then, won't you show that to us?"
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+CHAPTER XV.
+
+DROPS OF RAIN AND HAMMER OF WATER.
+
+
+"I am very willing to show you that," answered Monsieur Roger; "but I
+must have a candle."
+
+Miette ran to the kitchen and succeeded in obtaining that article which
+was once so common, and which is now so rare, known as a candle.
+Monsieur Roger lit the candle and placed it under the glass globe of the
+air-pump. Then he asked Paul to make a vacuum. At the end of a few
+minutes the candle went out. Monsieur Roger then told Paul to stop.
+
+"Why has the candle gone out?" asked Miette.
+
+"Because it needs air. Master Paul has just exhausted the air necessary
+to the combustion of the candle; but the wick still smokes, and we are
+going to see if the smoke which it produces will rise or fall."
+
+Everybody approached the globe, full of curiosity.
+
+"It falls," cried Miette, "the smoke falls."
+
+And in fact, instead of rising in the globe, the smoke lowered slowly
+and heavily, and fell upon the glass disk of the air-pump.
+
+"Well," said Monsieur Roger, "you see that I was right. In a vacuum
+smoke falls: it falls because it no longer finds itself in the midst of
+air which is heavier than it and forms an obstacle to its fall. In the
+same way the cloud in the sky above the château would fall if we could
+exhaust the air which is between it and us."
+
+"I am very glad that we cannot," cried Miette.
+
+"And why are you very glad?" asked Madame Dalize.
+
+"Because, mamma, I don't wish any rain to fall."
+
+"Does Miss Miette think, then," said Monsieur Roger, "that if the cloud
+fell rain would fall?"
+
+"Certainly," answered Miss Miette, with a certain amount of logic. "When
+the clouds fall they fall in the form of rain."
+
+"Yes; but supposing that I should exhaust the air which is between the
+cloud and us, the cloud would not fall in a rain, but in a single and
+large mass of water."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Clouds, you doubtless know, are masses of vapor from water. Now, when
+these vapors are sufficiently condensed to acquire a certain weight,
+they can no longer float in the atmosphere, and they fall in the form of
+rain. But they fall in rain because they have to traverse the air in
+order to fall to the ground. Now, the air offers such a resistance to
+this water that it is obliged to separate, to divide itself into small
+drops. If there were no air between the water and the ground, the water
+would not fall in drops of rain, but in a mass, like a solid body; and I
+am going to prove that to you, so as to convince Miss Miette."
+
+Among the various instruments unpacked from the box, Monsieur Roger
+chose a round tube of glass, closed at one end, tapering, and open at
+the other end. He introduced into this tube a certain quantity of water
+so as to half fill it. Then he placed the tube above a little alcohol
+lamp, and made the water boil.
+
+"Remark," said he, "how fully and completely the vapors from the water,
+which are formed by the influence of heat, force out the air which this
+tube encloses in escaping by the open end of the tube."
+
+When Monsieur Roger judged that there no longer remained any air in the
+tube, he begged Monsieur Dalize to hand him the blowpipe. Monsieur
+Dalize then handed to his friend a little instrument of brass, which was
+composed of three parts,--a conical tube, furnished with a mouth, a
+hollow cylinder succeeding to the first tube, and a second tube, equally
+conical, but narrower, and placed at right angles with the hollow
+cylinder. This second tube ended in a very little opening.
+
+Monsieur Roger placed his lips to the opening of the first tube, and
+blew, placing the little opening of the second tube in front of the
+flame of a candle, which Monsieur Dalize had just lit. A long and
+pointed tongue of fire extended itself from the flame of the candle.
+Monsieur Roger placed close to this tongue of fire the tapering and open
+end of the tube in which the water had finished boiling. The air, forced
+out of the blowpipe and thrust upon the flame of the candle, bore to
+this flame a considerable quantity of oxygen, which increased the
+combustion and produced a temperature high enough to soften and melt the
+open extremity of the tube, and so seal it hermetically.
+
+"I have," said Monsieur Roger, "by the means which you have seen,
+expelled the air which was contained in this tube, and there remains in
+it only water. In a few moments we will make use of it. But it is good
+to have a comparison under your eyes. I therefore ask Miss Miette to
+take another tube similar to that which I hold."
+
+"Here it is," cried Miette.
+
+"Now I ask her to put water into it."
+
+"I have done so."
+
+"Lastly, I ask her to turn it over quickly, with her little hand placed
+against its lower side in order to prevent the water from falling upon
+the floor."
+
+Miss Miette did as she was commanded. The water fell in the tube,
+dividing itself into drops of more or less size. It was like rain in
+miniature.
+
+"The water, as you have just seen," said Monsieur Roger, "has fallen in
+Miss Miette's tube, dividing itself against the resistance of the air.
+In the tube which I hold, and in which there is no longer any air, you
+will see how water falls."
+
+Monsieur Roger turned the tube over, but the water this time encountered
+no resistance from the air. It fell in one mass, and struck the bottom
+of the tube with a dry and metallic sound.
+
+"It made a noise almost like the noise of a hammer," said Paul Solange.
+
+"Exactly," answered Monsieur Roger. "Scientists have given this
+apparatus the name of the water-hammer." And looking at Miette, who in
+her astonishment was examining the tube without saying anything,
+Monsieur Roger added, smiling, "And this hammer has struck Miss Miette
+with surprise."
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+CHAPTER XVI.
+
+AMUSING PHYSICS.
+
+
+Hearing Monsieur Roger's jest, Miette raised her head, and said,--
+
+"Yes, it is very curious to see water fall like that, in a single mass;
+and, besides, it fell quicker than the water in my tube."
+
+"Of course: because it did not encounter the resistance of the air. This
+resistance is very easy to prove; and if Miss Miette will give me a
+sheet of any kind of paper----"
+
+Miss Miette looked at Monsieur Roger, seeming to be slightly
+nettled,--not by the errand, but by something else.
+
+Then she went in search of a sheet of letter-paper, which she brought
+back to Monsieur Roger. He raised his hand and dropped the paper.
+Instead of falling directly towards the earth, as a piece of lead or
+stone would do, it floated downward from the right to the left, gently
+balanced, and impeded in its fall by the evident resistance of the air.
+When this bit of paper had at last reached the ground, Monsieur Roger
+picked it up, saying,--
+
+"I am going to squeeze this bit of paper in such a way as to make it a
+paper ball; and I am going to let this paper ball fall from the same
+height as I did the leaf."
+
+The paper ball fell directly in a straight line upon the floor.
+
+"And yet it was the same sheet," said he, "which has fallen so fast. The
+matter submitted to the action of gravity remains the same; there can be
+no doubt on that point. Therefore, if the sheet of paper falls more
+quickly when it is rolled up into a ball, it is certainly because it
+meets with less resistance from the air; and if it meets with less
+resistance, it is because under this form of a ball it presents only a
+small surface, which allows it easily to displace the air in order to
+pass."
+
+"That is so," said Miss Miette, with a certainty which made every one
+smile.
+
+Miette, astonished at the effect which she had thus produced, looked at
+her friend Paul, who remained silent, but very attentive.
+
+"Well, Paul," said she, "is not that certain?"
+
+"Yes," answered Paul.
+
+"Hold," returned Monsieur Roger. "I am going to show you an example
+still more convincing of the resistance of the air,--only I must have a
+pair of scissors; and if Miss Miette will have the kindness to----"
+
+Miss Miette looked again at Monsieur Roger with a singular air. None the
+less, she ran off in search of the scissors. Then Monsieur Roger pulled
+from his pocket a coin, and with the aid of the scissors cut a round bit
+of paper, a little smaller than the coin. That done, he placed the
+circular bit of paper flat upon the coin, in such a manner that it did
+not overlap, and asked Miss Miette to take the coin between her thumb
+and her finger.
+
+"Now," said he, "let it all fall."
+
+Miette opened her fingers, and the coin upon which he had placed the bit
+of paper fell. Coin and paper reached the ground at the same time.
+
+"Why," asked Monsieur Roger, "does the paper reach the ground as soon as
+the coin?"
+
+And as Miette hesitated to answer, Monsieur Roger continued:
+
+"Because the fall of the bit of paper was not interfered with by the
+resistance of the air."
+
+"Of course," cried Miette, "it is the coin which opened the way. The
+paper was preserved by the coin from the resistance of the air."
+
+"Exactly so," said Monsieur Roger; "and these simple experiments have
+led scientists to ask if in doing away entirely with the resistance of
+the air it would not be possible to abolish the differences which may be
+observed between the falling of various bodies,--for instance, the paper
+and the coin, a hair and a bit of lead. And they have decided that in a
+vacuum--that is to say, when the resistance of the air is abolished--the
+paper and the coin, the hair and the lead would fall with exactly the
+same swiftness; all of them would traverse the same space in the same
+time."
+
+[Illustration]
+
+"The hair falls as fast as lead," said Miette, in a tone which seemed to
+imply, "I would like to see that."
+
+Monsieur Roger understood the thought of Miette, and answered by
+saying,--
+
+"Well, I am going to show you that."
+
+He chose a long tube of glass, closed by bits of metal, one of which had
+a stop-cock. He put in this tube the coin, the round bit of paper, a bit
+of lead, and a strand of hair from Miss Miette's head. Then he fastened
+the tube by one of its ends upon the disk of the air-pump and worked the
+pistons. As soon as he thought that the vacuum had been made, he closed
+the stop-cock of the tube, to prevent the exterior air from entering. He
+withdrew the tube from the machine, held it vertically, then turned it
+briskly upsidedown. Everybody saw that the paper, the coin, the hair,
+and the lead all arrived at the same time at the bottom of the tube. The
+experiment was conclusive. Then Monsieur Roger opened the stop-cock and
+allowed the air to enter into the tube. Again he turned the tube
+upsidedown: the coin and the bit of lead arrived almost together at the
+bottom of the tube, but the paper, and especially the strand of hair,
+found much difficulty on the way and arrived at the bottom much later.
+
+"Why, how amusing that is!" cried Miette; "as amusing as anything I
+know. I don't understand why Paul wishes to have nothing to do with
+physical science."
+
+But Miette was mistaken this time, for Paul was now very anxious to
+learn more.
+
+"Very well," said Monsieur Roger, "as all this has not wearied you, I
+am, in order to end to-day, going to make another experiment which will
+not be a bit tiresome, and which, without any scientific apparatus,
+without any air-pump, will demonstrate to you for the last time the
+existence of the pressure, of the weight of the atmosphere."
+
+Monsieur Roger stopped and looked at Miette, whose good temper he was
+again going to put to the test. Then he said,--
+
+"I need a carafe and a hard egg; and if Miss Miette will only be kind
+enough to----"
+
+This time Miette seemed still more uneasy than ever, more embarrassed,
+more uncomfortable; still, she fled rapidly towards the kitchen. During
+her absence, Monsieur Roger said to Madame Dalize,--
+
+"Miette seems to think that I trouble her a little too often."
+
+"That is not what is annoying her, I am certain," replied Madame Dalize;
+"but I do not understand the true cause. Let us wait."
+
+At this moment Miette returned, with the carafe in one hand, the
+hard-boiled egg (it was not boiled very hard, however) in the other.
+Monsieur Roger took the shell off the egg and placed the egg thus
+deprived of its shell upon the empty carafe, somewhat after the manner
+of a stopper or cork.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+"What I want to do," said he, "is to make this egg enter the carafe."
+
+"Very well," said Miette; "all you have to do is to push from above: you
+will force the egg down."
+
+"Oh, but nobody must touch it. It must not be a hand that forces it
+down, but by weight from above. No, the atmosphere must do this."
+
+Monsieur Roger took off the egg, and lit a bit of paper, which he threw
+into the empty carafe.
+
+"In order to burn," said he, "this paper is obliged to absorb the oxygen
+of the air in the carafe,--that is to say, it makes a partial vacuum."
+When the paper had burned for some moments, Monsieur Roger replaced the
+egg upon the carafe's neck, very much in the manner you would place a
+close-fitting ground-glass stopper in the neck of a bottle, and
+immediately they saw the egg lengthen, penetrate into the neck of the
+carafe, and at last fall to the bottom. "There," said he, "is
+atmospheric pressure clearly demonstrated. When a partial vacuum had
+been made in the carafe,--that is to say, when there was not enough air
+in it to counterbalance or resist the pressure of the exterior
+air,--this exterior air pressed with all its weight upon the egg and
+forced it down in very much the same way as Miss Miette wished me to do
+just now with my hand."
+
+In saying these last words, Monsieur Roger looked towards Miette.
+
+"By the way," he said, "I must apologize to you, Miss Miette, for having
+sent you on so many errands. I thought I saw that it annoyed you a
+little bit."
+
+Miss Miette raised her eyes with much surprise to Monsieur Roger.
+
+"But that was not it at all," said she.
+
+"Well, what was it?" asked Monsieur Roger.
+
+And Miette replied timidly, yet sweetly,--
+
+"Why, I only thought that you might stop calling me Miss. If you please,
+I would like to be one of your very good friends."
+
+"Oh, yes; with very great pleasure, my dear little Miette," cried
+Monsieur Roger, much moved by this touching and kindly delicacy of
+feeling, and opening his arms to the pretty and obliging little child of
+his friends.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+CHAPTER XVII.
+
+WHY THE MOON DOES NOT FALL.
+
+
+Next evening Monsieur Roger, as well as his friend Monsieur Dalize,
+seemed to have forgotten completely that there was such a thing as
+physical science. He sat in a corner and chatted about this thing and
+that with Monsieur and Madame Dalize. Still, the air-pump was there, and
+the children touched it, looked at it, and examined the different
+portions of it.
+
+At last there was a conversation in a low tone between Paul and Miette,
+and in the midst of the whispering were heard these words, clearly
+pronounced by the lips of Miette,--
+
+"Ask him yourself."
+
+Then Monsieur Roger heard Paul answer,--
+
+"No, I don't dare to."
+
+Miette then came forward towards her friend Roger, and said to him,
+without any hesitation,--
+
+"Paul asks that you will explain to him about the tower?"
+
+Monsieur Roger remained a moment without understanding, then a light
+struck him, and he said,--
+
+"Ah! Master Paul wants me to explain to him how I learned the height of
+the tower Heurtebize?"
+
+"That is it," said Miette.
+
+Paul Solange made an affirmative sign by a respectful movement of the
+head.
+
+"But," said Monsieur Roger, responding to this sign, "it is physical
+science, my dear Master Paul,--physical science, you know; and,
+goodness, I was so much afraid of boring you that both I and Monsieur
+Dalize had resolved never to approach this subject."
+
+"Still, sir," said Paul, "all that you have said and shown to us was on
+account of the tower of Heurtebize, and you promised me----"
+
+"That is true," said Monsieur Dalize; "and if you promised, you must
+keep your word. So explain to Paul how you have been able, without
+moving, to learn the exact height of that famous tower."
+
+"Come, then, I obey," answered Monsieur Roger.
+
+And, addressing himself to Paul, he said,--
+
+"You will remember that at the beginning of this conversation on gravity
+I took a little stone and let it fall from my full height. It produced a
+very feeble shock; but I made you remark that if it were to fall from a
+greater height the shock would be violent enough to break it."
+
+"Yes," said Paul, "I remember."
+
+"Then, of course, you understand that the violence of the shock of a
+body against a fixed obstacle depends upon the rate of speed this body
+possessed at the moment when it encountered the obstacle. The higher the
+distance from which the body falls, the more violent is the shock,--for
+its swiftness is greater. Now, the speed of a falling body becomes
+greater and greater the longer it continues to fall; and, consequently,
+in falling faster and faster it will traverse a greater and greater
+space in a given interval of time. In studying the fall of a body we
+find that in one second it traverses a space of sixteen feet and one
+inch. In falling for two seconds it traverses----"
+
+"Twice the number of feet," said Miette, with a self-satisfied air.
+
+"Why, no," said Paul; "because it falls faster during the second second,
+and in consequence travels a greater distance."
+
+"Master Paul is right," replied Monsieur Roger. "It has been found that
+in falling for two seconds a body falls sixteen feet and one inch
+multiplied by twice two,--that is to say, sixty-four feet and four
+inches. In falling three seconds a body traverses sixteen feet and one
+inch multiplied by three times three,--that is to say, by nine. In
+falling four seconds it traverses sixteen feet and one inch multiplied
+by four times four,--that is to say, by sixteen; and so on. This law of
+falling bodies which learned men have discovered teaches us that in
+order to calculate the space traversed by a body in a certain number of
+seconds it is necessary to multiply sixteen feet and one inch by the
+arithmetical square of that number of seconds. And Master Paul must
+know, besides, that the square of a number is the product obtained by
+multiplying this number by itself."
+
+Paul bent his head.
+
+"And now you must also know," continued Monsieur Roger, "how I could
+calculate the height of the tower of Heurtebize. The stone which you let
+fall, according to my watch, took two seconds before it reached the
+soil. The calculation which I had to make was easy, was it not?"
+
+"Yes, sir: it was necessary to multiply sixteen feet and one inch by two
+times two,--which gives about sixty-four feet and four inches as the
+height of the tower."
+
+"You are right, and, as you may judge, it was not a very difficult
+problem."
+
+"Yes," added Monsieur Dalize; "but it was interesting to know why the
+apple fell, and you have taught us."
+
+"That is true," cried Miette; "only you have forgotten to tell us why
+the moon does not fall."
+
+"I have not forgotten," said Monsieur Roger; "but I wished to avoid
+speaking of the attraction of the universe. However, as Miette obliges
+me, I shall speak. You see that all earthly bodies are subject to a
+force which has been called gravity, or weight. Now, gravity can also be
+called attraction. By the word attraction is meant, in fact, the force
+which makes all bodies come mutually together and adhere together,
+unless they are separated by some other force. This gravity or
+attraction which the terrestrial mass exerts upon the objects placed on
+its surface is felt above the soil to a height that cannot be measured.
+Learned men have, therefore, been led to suppose that this gravity or
+attraction extended beyond the limits which we can reach; that it acted
+upon the stars themselves, only decreasing as they are farther off. This
+supposition allows it to be believed that all the stars are of similar
+phenomena, that there is a gravity or attraction on their surface, and
+that this gravity or attraction acts upon all other celestial bodies.
+With this frame of thought in his mind, Newton at last came to believe
+that all bodies attract each other by the force of gravity, that their
+movements are determined by the force which they exert mutually upon one
+another, and that the system of the universe is regulated by a single
+force,--gravity, or attraction."
+
+"But that does not explain to us why the moon does not fall," said
+Monsieur Dalize.
+
+Monsieur Roger looked at his friend.
+
+"So you also," said he, smiling,--"you also are trying to puzzle me?"
+
+"Of course I am; but I am only repeating the question whose answer
+Miette is still awaiting."
+
+"Yes," said Miette, "I am waiting. Why does not the moon fall?"
+
+"Well, the moon does not fall because it is launched into space with so
+great a force that it traverses nearly four-fifths of a mile a second."
+
+Miette ran to open the door of the vestibule. The park was bathed in the
+mild light of a splendid moon.
+
+"Is it of that moon that you are speaking,--the moon which turns around
+us?"
+
+"Certainly, as we have no other moon."
+
+"And it turns as swiftly as you say?"
+
+"Why, yes. And do you know why it turns around us, a prisoner of that
+earth from which it seeks continually to fly in a straight line? It is
+because----"
+
+Monsieur Roger stopped suddenly, with an embarrassed air.
+
+"What is the matter?" asked Miette.
+
+"Why, I am afraid I have put myself in a very difficult position."
+
+"Why?"
+
+[Illustration]
+
+"I have just undertaken to tell you why the moon does not fall. Is not
+that true?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Well, I am obliged to tell you that it does fall."
+
+"Ah, that is another matter!" cried Miette.
+
+"Yes, it is another matter, as you say; and it is necessary that I
+should speak to you of that other matter. Without that how can I make
+you believe that the moon does not fall and that it does fall?"
+
+"That would not be easy," said Miss Miette.
+
+"Well, then, imagine a ball shot by a cannon. This ball would go forever
+in a straight line and with the same swiftness if it were not subject to
+gravity, to the attraction of the earth. This attraction forces the ball
+to lower itself little by little below the straight line to approach the
+earth. At last the time comes when the force of attraction conquers the
+force which shot the ball, and the latter falls to the earth. This
+example of the ball may be applied to the moon, which would go forever
+in a straight line if it were not subject to the attraction of the
+earth. It shoots in a straight line, ready to flee away from us; but
+suddenly the attraction of the earth makes itself felt. Then the moon
+bends downward to approach us, and the straight line which it had been
+ready to traverse is changed to the arc of a circle. Again the moon
+endeavors to depart in a straight line, but the attraction is felt
+again, and brings near to us our unfaithful satellite. The same
+phenomenon goes on forever, and the straight path which the moon
+intended to follow becomes a circular one. It falls in every instance
+towards us, but it falls with exactly the same swiftness as that with
+which it seeks to get away from us. Consequently it remains always at
+the same distance. The attraction which prevents the moon from running
+away may be likened to a string tied to the claws of a cockchafer. The
+cockchafer flies, seeking to free itself; the string pulls it back
+towards the child's finger; and very often the circular flight which the
+insect takes around the finger which holds it represents exactly the
+circular flight of the moon around the earth."
+
+"But," said Miette, "is there no danger that the moon may fall some
+time?"
+
+"If the moon had been closer to the earth it would have fallen long ago;
+but it is more than two hundred and thirty-eight thousand miles away,
+and, as I have told you, if attraction or gravity acts upon the planets,
+it loses its power in proportion to the distance at which they are. The
+same attraction which forces the moon to turn around the earth obliges
+the earth and the planets to turn around the sun; and the sun itself is
+not immovable. It flies through space like all the other stars, bearing
+us in its train, subject also to universal attraction."
+
+Monsieur Roger stopped a moment, then he said,--
+
+"And it is this great law of universal attraction, this law which
+governs the universe, that Newton discovered when he asked himself, 'Why
+does the apple fall?'"
+
+"Still, as for me," said Miette, "I should not have had that idea at
+all; I should have said quietly to myself, 'The apple fell because it
+was ripe.'"
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+CHAPTER XVIII.
+
+A MYSTERIOUS RESEMBLANCE.
+
+
+The days passed by at the château of Sainte-Gemme quietly and happily.
+Monsieur Roger, having fulfilled his promise to give the explanation of
+gravity and of attraction, was careful to make no allusions to
+scientific matters. He thought it useful and right to let his little
+hearers find their own pleasures wherever they could. One afternoon he
+saw Miette and Paul leave the house together. Paul had two camp-stools,
+while Miette held her friend's album.
+
+"Where are you going?" asked Monsieur Roger.
+
+"We are going to sketch," answered Paul: "at the end of the park."
+
+Miette put on the air of a martyr, and said to Monsieur Roger,--
+
+"I think he is going to sketch me."
+
+"Not at all; come along," replied Paul.
+
+And Miette ran gayly after Paul.
+
+An hour later, Monsieur Roger, in his walk, saw at the turning of a
+pathway lined by young chestnut-trees a scene which brought a smile to
+his lips. Two camp-stools were placed in front of each other, some
+distance apart; upon one of these camp-stools Paul was seated, his album
+and his pencil between his hands; on the other camp-stool was Miss
+Miette, posing for a portrait. Monsieur Roger approached.
+
+When Miette saw him, she sat up, and, crossing her little arms, cried,
+with pretended anger,--
+
+"I told you so: he is going to sketch me."
+
+"Oh, Miette," said Paul, softly, "you have spoiled the pose."
+
+Miette turned towards Paul, and, seeing that she had made him angry,
+returned to her former attitude without saying a word. Monsieur Roger
+looked at Miette, so pretty, so restless by disposition, now forcing
+herself to sit quietly, with an expression of determination upon her
+face that was half serious and half laughing. Then he cast his eyes upon
+Paul's album, but at that moment Paul was scratching over with his
+pencil the sketch which he had begun.
+
+"Never," said he, discouraged, "never shall I be able to catch her
+likeness."
+
+"That is not astonishing," replied Monsieur Roger. "I was struck at once
+with the change in her face. Miette in posing does not resemble herself
+any longer."
+
+"That is true, sir; but why is it?"
+
+"Why, because it is possible that it does not amuse her very much."
+
+Miette began to laugh. Monsieur Roger had guessed aright.
+
+"Oh, stay like that!" cried Paul, seeing Miette's face lighten up with
+gayety.
+
+"I will remain like this on one condition."
+
+"And what is that?"
+
+"That our friend Roger will remain also with us. I shall have some one
+to whom I can talk, and you, Paul, will make your sketch at your ease."
+
+"That is understood," said Monsieur Roger, seating himself upon a bank
+of stones beside the children. At first he lent a rather listless ear to
+Miette's words, for he was thinking of something else, and he only
+uttered a word or two in answer, which, however, allowed the little girl
+to think that she was being listened to. His eyes had travelled from the
+model to the artist. Since his arrival at Sainte-Gemme Paul's face had
+slightly changed: his hair, which had been cut short at school, had
+lengthened, and now fell over his forehead, shading the top of his face
+and giving him an expression that was slightly feminine; his large
+eyes, with long, black lashes, went from Miette to the sketch-book with
+a grave attention which the presence of a third party did not trouble at
+all. Roger's looks had rested upon Paul, full of that sympathy which the
+boy had inspired in him the first time he had seen him; but, instead of
+looking elsewhere at the end of a few minutes, his eyes were riveted
+upon Paul's face. He eagerly examined every feature of that face, which
+had suddenly been revealed to him under a new aspect. He had become very
+pale, and his hands trembled slightly. Miette perceived this sudden
+change, and, full of uneasiness, cried out,--
+
+"Why, what is the matter?"
+
+Recalled to himself by this exclamation, Monsieur Roger shook his head,
+passed his hand over his eyes, and answered, striving to smile,--
+
+"Why, there is nothing the matter with me, my dear, except a slight
+dizziness, caused by the sun no doubt. Don't be uneasy about me. I am
+going back home."
+
+And Monsieur Roger left them at a rapid pace, cutting across the pathway
+to get out of sight of the children. He walked like a crazy man; his
+eyes were wild, his brain full of a strange and impossible idea. When he
+had reached the other end of the park, sure of being alone, sure of not
+being seen, he stopped; but then he felt weak, and he allowed himself to
+fall upon the grass. For a long time he remained motionless, plunged in
+thought. At last he got up, murmuring,--
+
+"Why, that is impossible. I was a fool."
+
+He was himself again. He had thought over everything, he had weighed
+everything, and he persuaded himself that he had been the plaything of a
+singular hallucination. Still reasoning, still talking to himself, he
+took no notice of where he was going. Suddenly he perceived that he was
+returning to the spot which he had left. He stopped, and heard the voice
+of Miette in the distance; then he approached as softly as was possible,
+walking on tiptoe and avoiding the gravel and the falling leaves. One
+wish filled his heart,--to see Paul again without being seen. He walked
+through the woods towards the side whence the voice had made itself
+heard. The voice of Miette, now very close, said,--
+
+"Let's see, Paul. Is it finished?"
+
+"Yes," answered Paul; "only two minutes more. And this time, thanks to
+Monsieur Roger, it will be something like you."
+
+Monsieur Roger, hidden behind branches and leaves, came nearer,
+redoubling his precautions. At last, through an opening in the foliage
+he perceived Paul Solange. He looked at him with profound attention
+until the lad, having started off with Miette, was some distance away.
+When the two children had disappeared, Monsieur Roger took the shaded
+path he had been following and went towards the château. He walked
+slowly, his head bent down, his mind a prey to mysterious thoughts. He
+had seen Paul again, and had studied his face, this time appealing to
+all his coolness, to all his reasoning power. And now a violent,
+unconquerable emotion bound him. In vain he tried in his sincerity to
+believe in a too happy and weak illusion, in a too ardent desire,
+realized only in his imagination. No, he was forced to admit that what
+he had just beheld had been seen with the eyes of a reasoning and
+thinking man whose brain was clear and whose mind was not disordered.
+However, this thought which had taken possession of him, this
+overwhelming idea of happiness, was it even admissible? And Monsieur
+Roger, striving to return to the reality, murmured,--
+
+[Illustration]
+
+"It is folly! it is folly!"
+
+Was it not in fact folly which had led him suddenly to recognize in the
+features of Paul Solange those of Madame Roger La Morlière? Was it not
+folly to have noticed a mysterious, surprising, and extraordinary
+resemblance between the face of Paul Solange and the sweet one of her
+who had been the mother of George? Yes, it was madness, it was
+impossible. Yet, in spite of all, Monsieur Roger said to himself, deep
+down in his heart,--
+
+"If it were my son?"
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+CHAPTER XIX.
+
+THE FIXED IDEA.
+
+
+For some days Monsieur Roger made no allusion to the secret which now
+filled his soul, nor to that strange idea which filled his whole brain.
+He retired into himself, thinking that this folly which had suddenly
+come to him would go away as suddenly, and again feeling, in spite of
+all, the certain loss of a dream which had made him so happy. And still,
+the more he looked at Paul, which he did only on the sly, not daring to
+look him in the face, as formerly, for fear of betraying himself, the
+more and more evident and real did the mysterious resemblance appear to
+him. The Dalize family had remarked the absence of mind and the
+wandering look of Monsieur Roger. Still, they thought that that was
+simply because something had reminded him of his sorrows. Even Paul
+could not help taking notice of the new attitude which Monsieur Roger
+had taken up with regard to him. The kindness and sympathy which
+Monsieur Roger had shown him in the first few days of his acquaintance
+had greatly touched the motherless boy, whose father was far away on the
+other side of the ocean.
+
+Now, for some days, it had seemed to Paul that Monsieur Roger sought to
+avoid his presence,--he neither spoke to him nor looked at him. Once
+only Paul had surprised a look which Monsieur Roger had given him, and
+in this sad look he had discovered an affection so profound that it felt
+to him almost like a paternal caress. Yet, Paul was forced to
+acknowledge that his father had never looked at him in that way.
+
+One evening, after dinner, Monsieur Dalize led his friend Roger into the
+garden in front of the house, and said to him,--
+
+"Roger, my dear friend, you have made us uneasy for some days. Now we
+are alone. What is the matter with you?"
+
+"Why, nothing is the matter with me," said Monsieur Roger, surprised at
+the question.
+
+"Why, certainly, something is the matter. What has happened to you?"
+
+"I don't understand what you mean?"
+
+"Roger, you oblige me to tread on delicate ground,--to ask you a painful
+question."
+
+"Speak."
+
+"Well, my dear friend, the change which we have noticed in you for some
+time is not my fault, is it? Or does it come from the surroundings in
+which you find yourself placed?"
+
+"I don't understand."
+
+"I ask if your grief--without your knowing it, perhaps--may not have
+been revived by the happiness which reigns around you? Perhaps the
+presence of these children, who nevertheless love you already almost as
+much as they do me, awakes in your heart a terrible remembrance and
+cruel regrets?"
+
+"No, no," cried Monsieur Roger; "that is not true. But why do you ask me
+such questions?"
+
+"Because, my dear friend, you are mentally ill, and I wish to cure you."
+
+"Why, no, I am not. I am not ill either mentally or physically, I
+swear."
+
+"Don't swear," said Monsieur Dalize; "and do me the kindness to hide
+yourself for some moments behind this clump of trees. I have witnesses
+who will convince you that I still have good eyes."
+
+Monsieur Dalize got up, opened the door of the vestibule, and called
+Miette. She ran out gayly.
+
+"What do you wish, papa?" she said.
+
+"I want to see our friend Roger. Is he not in the parlor with you?"
+
+"No; he always goes his own way. He does not talk to us any longer; and
+he has had a very funny, sad look for some time. He is not the same at
+all."
+
+[Illustration]
+
+"Very well, my child," said Monsieur Dalize, interrupting the little
+girl. "Go back to the parlor and send me your brother."
+
+Albert soon arrived.
+
+"You wanted me, father?" said he.
+
+"Yes; I want you to repeat to me what you told your mother this
+morning."
+
+Albert thought for a moment; then he said,--
+
+"About Monsieur Roger?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Well, I told mamma that for some time back I have heard Monsieur Roger
+walking all night in his room; only this evening I heard him crying."
+
+"That is all that I wish to know, my child. You can go back again."
+
+When Monsieur Dalize was alone, he walked around the clump of trees to
+rejoin Roger.
+
+"Well," said he, softly, "you have heard. Everybody has noticed your
+grief. Won't you tell me now what it is that you are suffering, or what
+secret is torturing you?"
+
+"Yes, I will confide this secret to you," said Monsieur Roger, "because
+you will understand me, and you will not laugh at your unhappy friend."
+And Monsieur Roger told the whole truth to his friend Dalize. He told
+him what a singular fixed idea had possessed his brain; he told him of
+the strange resemblance which he thought he had discovered between the
+features of his dear and regretted wife and the face of Paul Solange.
+
+Monsieur Dalize let his friend pour out his soul to him. He said only,
+with pitying affection, when Monsieur Roger had finished,--
+
+"My poor friend! it is a dream that is very near insanity."
+
+"Alas! that is what I tell myself; and still----"
+
+"And still?" repeated Monsieur Dalize. "You still doubt? Come with me."
+
+He re-entered the château with Roger. When he reached the parlor he went
+straight to Paul Solange.
+
+"Paul," said he, "to-morrow is the mail, and I shall write to your
+father."
+
+"Ah, sir," answered Paul, "I will give you my letter; maybe you can put
+it in yours."
+
+Monsieur Dalize seemed to be trying to think of something.
+
+"How long a time is it," said he, "since I have had the pleasure of
+seeing your excellent father?"
+
+"Two years, sir; but he will surely come to France this winter."
+
+Monsieur Dalize looked at Roger; then he whispered in his ear,--
+
+"You have heard."
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+CHAPTER XX.
+
+FIRE.
+
+
+Certainly Monsieur Roger had heard, certainly he tried to convince
+himself; but when his looks fell upon Paul, his reason forsook him and
+he doubted again, and even he hoped. Some days passed in a semi-sadness
+that made every one feel uneasy. The children, without knowing why, knew
+that something had happened which troubled the mutual happiness of their
+life. Monsieur and Madame Dalize alone understood and pitied their
+friend Roger. They endeavored to interest him in other things,--but
+Monsieur Roger refused walks, excursions, and the invitations of the
+neighbors. He had asked Monsieur Dalize to let him alone for a while, as
+he felt the need of solitude.
+
+One morning Albert said to his father,--
+
+"Father, Paul and I wish to go with a fishing-party to the farm, as we
+did last year. Will you allow us to do so?"
+
+"Yes," answered Monsieur Dalize; "but on one condition."
+
+"What is it?"
+
+"That you take Monsieur Roger with you."
+
+Albert looked at his father, and answered,--
+
+"Then you refuse?"
+
+"Why, no,--I only make that condition."
+
+"Yes, father; but as we cannot fulfil the condition, it is equal to a
+refusal."
+
+"Why cannot you fulfil it? What is there so difficult about it?"
+
+"You know as well as I, my dear father, Monsieur Roger has been for some
+time very sad, very preoccupied; he wants to remain by himself, and
+consequently he will refuse to go to the farm."
+
+"Who knows?"
+
+"Well, at all events, I would not dare to ask him."
+
+"Well, then, let Paul do it."
+
+"But what would Paul say?"
+
+"He will say that I am detained here, that I cannot come with you, and
+that, not thinking it prudent to allow you to go fishing alone, I
+object to it unless Monsieur Roger will consent to take my place."
+
+"Very well, father," said Albert, in a disappointed tone. "We will see
+whether Paul succeeds; but I am afraid he will not."
+
+But Paul did succeed. Monsieur Roger could not resist the request so
+pleasantly made by the boy. That evening, after dinner, they left home
+to sleep at the farm, which was situated on the borders of the River
+Yonne. They had to get up at daybreak in order to begin their fishing.
+The farmers gave up to Monsieur Roger the only spare room they had in
+the house. Albert and Paul had to sleep in what they called the turret.
+This turret, the last mossy vestige of the feudal castle, whose very
+windows were old loop-holes, now furnished with panes of glass, stood
+against one end of the farm-house. It was divided into three stories:
+the first story was a place where they kept hay and straw; in the second
+there slept a young farm-boy; the higher story was reserved for another
+servant, who was just now absent.
+
+"In war we must do as the warriors do," cried Albert, gayly; "besides,
+we have not so long to sleep. You may take whichever room you like the
+best."
+
+"I will take the highest story, if you are willing," answered Paul; "the
+view must be beautiful."
+
+"Oh, the view! through the loop-holes and their blackened glasses!
+However, you can climb up on the old platform of the turret if you wish.
+It is covered with zinc, like the roof of an ordinary house; but, all
+the same, one can walk upon it. Come, I will show it to you."
+
+The wooden staircase was easily ascended by the boys. When they had
+reached the room which Paul was to occupy, Albert pointed his hand
+towards the ceiling and made Paul remark a large bolt.
+
+"See," said he: "you have only to get upon a chair to draw this bolt and
+to push the trap-door, which gives admission to the turret. On the roof
+you will, in fact, see a beautiful view."
+
+"I shall do that to-morrow morning, when I get up," answered Paul.
+
+Albert, after he had said good-night to his friend, descended the
+staircase and slept in the bed which the farm-boy had yielded to him;
+the latter was to spend the night upon a bed of hay in the first story.
+
+A distant clock in the country had struck twelve. Monsieur Roger had
+opened the window of his room, and, being unable to sleep, was thinking,
+still the prey to the fixed idea, still occupied by the strange
+resemblance; and now the two names of Paul and George mingled together
+in his mind and were applied only to the one and the same dear being.
+Suddenly the odor of smoke came to him, brought on the breeze. In the
+cloudy night he saw nothing, and still the smoke grew more and more
+distinct. Every one was asleep at the farm: no light was burning, no
+sound was heard. Monsieur Roger bent over the window-sill and looked
+uneasily around him. The loop-holes of the lower story of the turret
+were illuminated; then sparks escaped from it, soon followed by jets of
+flame. At the same instant the wooden door which opened into the yard
+was violently burst open, and Monsieur Roger saw two young people in
+their night-gowns fleeing together and crying with a loud voice. This
+was all so quick that Monsieur Roger had had neither the time nor the
+thought of calling for help. A spasm of fear had seized him, which was
+calmed, now that Paul and Albert were safe; but the alarm had been
+given, and the farm-hands had awakened. But what help could they expect?
+The nearest village was six miles off; the turret would be burned before
+the engines could arrive. Monsieur Roger had run out with the others to
+witness this fire which they could not extinguish. He held Albert in his
+arms, embraced him, and said to him,--
+
+"But, tell me, where is Paul?"
+
+Albert looked around him.
+
+"He must be here,--unless fright has made him run away."
+
+"No, he is not here. But you are sure that he ran out of the tower, are
+you not?"
+
+"Certainly, since it was he who came and shook me in my bed while I was
+asleep."
+
+At this moment a young boy in a night-gown came out of the crowd, and,
+approaching Albert, said,--
+
+"No; it was I, sir, who shook you."
+
+Monsieur Roger looked at the boy who had just spoken, and he felt a
+horrible fear take possession of him. He saw that it was the farm-boy.
+It must have been he whom he had seen fleeing a moment before with
+Albert. But Paul? Had he remained in the turret? And the flames which
+licked the walls had almost reached the floor where Paul was sleeping.
+Was the poor boy still asleep? Had he heard nothing?
+
+"A ladder!" cried Monsieur Roger, with a cry of fear and despair.
+
+The ladder was immediately brought; but it was impossible to place it
+against the turret, whose base was in flames.
+
+Monsieur Roger in a second had examined the battlements which composed
+the roof. He ran towards the farm-house, climbed up the staircase to the
+top story, opened a trap-door, and found himself upon the roof. Crawling
+on his hands and knees, following the ridge of the roof, he reached the
+turret, and found himself even with the story where Paul Solange was
+asleep. The loop-hole was before him. With a blow of his elbow he broke
+the glass; then he cried,--
+
+"Paul! Paul!"
+
+Below the people looked at him in mournful silence. No reply came from
+the room; he could see nothing through the darkness. Monsieur Roger had
+a gleam of hope: Paul must have escaped. But a sheet of fire higher than
+the others threw a sudden light through the loop-hole on the other side.
+
+Monsieur Roger was seized with indescribable anguish. Paul Solange was
+there in his bed. Was he asleep? Monsieur Roger cried out anew with all
+his force. Paul remained motionless. Then Monsieur Roger leaned over the
+roof, and said to the people below,--
+
+"Cry at the top of your voices! Make a noise!"
+
+But the next moment he made a sign to them to be silent,--for Monsieur
+Roger had felt somebody crawling behind him, somebody who had followed
+his perilous path. It was Albert Dalize.
+
+"Oh, my friend,--my poor friend!" cried Monsieur Roger; "what can we do?
+Is it not enough to make you crazy? See! the staircase is in flames. You
+can hardly pass your arm through the loop-holes. Whether he wakes or
+not, he is lost." And then he said, with an awful gravity, "Then, it is
+better he should not awake."
+
+"No," replied Albert, quickly; "there is an opening at the top of the
+tower."
+
+"There is an opening?"
+
+"Yes, a trap-door, which I showed him only a little while ago, before we
+went to sleep."
+
+Monsieur Roger raised himself upon the roof to a standing position.
+
+"What are you doing?" cried Albert.
+
+"I am going to try to reach the top of the tower."
+
+"It is useless; the bolt opens in the room. Paul only can open it."
+
+"Paul can open it."
+
+"If he awakes. But how is it he does not awake?"
+
+And in his turn Albert called to his friend.
+
+Paul made no movement. The flames were gaining, growing more and more
+light, and the smoke was filtering through the plank floor and filling
+the room.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+"Ah, I understand," cried Monsieur Roger, "I understand: he is not
+sleeping. That is not sleep,--that is asphyxia."
+
+"Asphyxia?" repeated Albert, in a voice choked with fear.
+
+The scene was terrible. There was the boy, a prisoner, who was going to
+die under the eyes of those who loved him, and separated from them
+solely by a circle of stone and of fire,--a circle which they could not
+cross. He was going to die without any knowledge that he was dying.
+Asphyxia held him in a death-like trance. Albert saw the floor of the
+room crack and a tongue of flame shoot up, which lighted up the sleeping
+face of Paul Solange. Then he heard a strange cry from a terrified and
+awful voice. The voice cried,--
+
+"George! George!"
+
+And it was Monsieur Roger who had twice called that name.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+CHAPTER XXI.
+
+SAVED.
+
+
+Albert still looked. Then he saw Paul Solange raise himself upon his
+bed, and, seeing the fire, pass his hands over his eyes and his
+forehead, jump to the floor, reflect a moment, as if endeavoring to
+remember something, then seize a chair, get upon it, and pull the bolt
+of the trap-door. At the same time he remarked that Monsieur Roger was
+no longer near him. Braving the danger, Monsieur Roger had jumped from
+the roof, and succeeded in reaching the top of the turret; and now it
+was he who pulled Paul from the trap-door and gathered him up in his
+arms. The boy had fainted. Obeying an order shouted by Albert, two
+farm-boys trusted themselves upon the roof, bringing with them a ladder
+and ropes. Then Monsieur Roger was able to come down with his precious
+burden.
+
+Albert lent his aid to the rescuer, and Paul was taken down into the
+yard. At this moment a carriage arrived, which had been driving at the
+top of its speed. It stopped at the door of the farm-house. Monsieur
+Dalize appeared. From the château the flames had been seen by a
+watchman, who had gone to awake his master. Monsieur Dalize,
+understanding the danger, frightened at what might be happening over
+there in that farm-house on fire, under that roof which sheltered his
+child, his best friend, and Paul Solange, had immediately harnessed a
+horse, with the aid of the watchman, and, telling him to say nothing to
+Madame Dalize, had departed at the top of his speed. He arrived in time
+to see Monsieur Roger and Albert, who were bearing Paul with them. He
+approached, trembling.
+
+"Paul!" he cried.
+
+"Calm yourself," Monsieur Roger hastened to say: "he has only fainted.
+It is nothing; but we shall have to take him home."
+
+"The carriage is ready."
+
+"Then everything is for the best."
+
+Paul was seated in the carriage, between Albert and Monsieur Roger. The
+latter had placed his left arm under Paul's head to sustain him. The
+poor child was still insensible; but there could be no better remedy
+for him than the fresh air of the night,--the fresh air which the rapid
+movement of the carriage caused to penetrate into his lungs. Monsieur
+Dalize, who drove, turned around frequently, looking at Roger. The
+latter held in his right hand Paul Solange's hand, and from time to time
+placed his ear against the boy's breast.
+
+"Well?" said Monsieur Dalize, anxiously.
+
+"His pulse is still insensible," answered Monsieur Roger; "but stop your
+horse for a moment."
+
+The carriage stopped. Then, being no longer interfered with by the
+noise, Monsieur Roger again applied his ear, and said,--
+
+"His heart beats; it beats very feebly, but it beats. Now go ahead."
+
+Again the carriage started. At the end of some minutes, Monsieur Roger,
+who still held Paul's wrist between his fingers, suddenly felt beneath
+the pulsations of the radial artery. He cried out, with a loud voice,
+but it was a cry of joy,--
+
+"He is saved!" he said to Monsieur Dalize.
+
+At that very moment Paul Solange opened his eyes; but he closed them
+again, as if a heavy sleep, stronger than his will, were weighing upon
+his eyelids. Again he opened them, and looked with an undecided look,
+without understanding. At that moment they arrived at the house.
+Everybody was on foot. The fire at the farm had been perceived by others
+besides the watchman. They had all risen from their beds, and Madame
+Dalize, awakened by the noise, had, unfortunately, learned the terrible
+news. She was awaiting in cruel agony the return of her husband. At last
+she saw him driving the carriage and bringing with him the beings who
+were dear to her. Paul, leaning on the arms of Monsieur Roger and
+Albert, was able to cross the slight distance which separated them from
+the vestibule. There Monsieur Roger made him sit down in an arm-chair,
+near the window, which he opened wide. Monsieur and Madame Dalize and
+Albert stood beside Paul, looking at him silently and uneasily; but they
+were reassured by the expression of Monsieur Roger. With common accord
+they left him the care of his dear patient. Monsieur Roger was looking
+at Paul with tender eyes,--an expression of happiness, of joy, illumined
+his face: and this expression, which Monsieur Dalize had not seen for
+long years upon the face of his friend, seemed to him incomprehensible,
+for he was still ignorant of the extraordinary thing that had happened.
+At this moment, Miss Miette, in her night-cap, hardly taking time to
+dress herself, rushed into the vestibule. Her childish sleep had been
+interrupted by the tumult in the house. She had run down half awake.
+
+"Mamma, Mamma," she cried, "what is the matter?"
+
+Then, as she ran to throw herself upon her mother's knees, she saw the
+arm-chair and Paul sitting in it. She stopped at once, and, before they
+had the time or the thought of stopping her, she had taken Paul's hands,
+saying to him, very sadly,--
+
+"Paul, Paul, are you sick?"
+
+Paul's eyes, which until this time had remained clouded and as if fixed
+upon something which he could not see, turned to Miette. Little by
+little they brightened as his senses returned to him: his eyes commenced
+to sparkle. He looked, and, with a soft but weary voice, he murmured,--
+
+"Miette, my little Miette."
+
+[Illustration]
+
+Then he turned his head, trying to find out where it was he found
+himself, who were the people around him.
+
+"What has happened?" he asked.
+
+Nobody dared to answer. Everybody waited for Monsieur Roger; but
+Monsieur Roger kept silent. He let nature take care of itself. Indeed,
+he even hid himself slightly behind Monsieur Dalize. Paul's looks passed
+over the faces which were in front or beside him; but they did not stop
+there: they seemed to look for something or some one which they did not
+meet. Then, with a sudden movement, Paul bent over a little. He saw
+Monsieur Roger; he started; the blood came back to his face; he tried to
+speak, and could only let fall a few confused words. But, though they
+could not understand his words, what they did understand was his
+gesture. He held out his arms towards Monsieur Roger. The latter
+advanced and clasped Paul Solange in a fatherly embrace.
+
+The effort made by the sick boy had wearied him. He closed his eyes in
+sleep; but this time it was a healthy sleep, a refreshing sleep.
+
+Monsieur Roger and Monsieur Dalize took the sleeping Paul up to his
+room. And Miss Miette, as she regained her boudoir, said to herself,
+with astonishment,--
+
+"It is extraordinary! Monsieur Roger embraced Paul as if he were his
+papa."
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+CHAPTER XXII.
+
+GEORGE! GEORGE!
+
+
+Monsieur Roger stayed up all the remainder of that night by the side of
+Paul, whose sleep was calm and dreamless, like the sleep which succeeds
+to some strong emotion, some great fatigue. Paul was still sleeping in
+the morning when Monsieur Dalize softly turned the handle of the door
+and entered the room on tiptoe. His entrance was made with so much
+precaution that Monsieur Roger himself did not hear him.
+
+Monsieur Dalize had some seconds in which to observe Roger. He saw him
+sitting beside the bed, his eyes fixed upon the child, in a thoughtful
+attitude. Monsieur Roger was studying the delicate face which lay upon
+the pillow. He examined its features one by one, and, thinking himself
+alone, thinking that he would not be interrupted in this examination, he
+was calling up the mysterious resemblance with which he had already
+acquainted his friend. But he had not just now begun this study,--he had
+pursued it all night. The light, however, of the lowered lamp had not
+been favorable, and the emotion which he felt agitated him still too
+much to leave his judgment clear. When the morning sun had risen,
+chasing away all the vague images of the darkness and the doubts of the
+mind. Roger, having recovered his composure, looked at the child whom he
+had saved, and asked himself if the child was not his own. He was drawn
+from these reflections by feeling himself touched upon the shoulder.
+Monsieur Dalize had approached and asked,--
+
+"Has he passed a good night?"
+
+"Excellent," answered Monsieur Roger, in a low tone; "but we must let
+him sleep as long as he can. Give orders that no noise shall be made
+around here and that no one shall enter. He must awake of his own
+accord. When he awakes he will only feel a slight fatigue."
+
+"Then I am going to give these orders and tell the good news," said
+Monsieur Dalize.
+
+He retired as softly as he had entered, but by accident, near the door,
+he stumbled against a chair. He stopped, holding his breath; but Roger
+made a sign that he could go on. The slight noise had not awakened Paul,
+or at least had not awakened him completely; he had turned around upon
+his bed for the first time since he had been placed there. Monsieur
+Roger, who never took his eyes off him, understood that he was dreaming.
+The dream seemed to be a painful one, for some feeble groans and murmurs
+escaped him. Then upon the face of the sleeping child appeared an
+expression of great fear. Monsieur Roger did not wish to leave Paul a
+prey to such a dream. He approached near to raise him a little upon the
+bed. The moment that Monsieur Roger's two hands softly touched Paul's
+head, the expression of fear disappeared, the features became quiet and
+calm, the groans ceased, and suddenly there escaped his lips the single
+word "Papa."
+
+Monsieur Roger started. With his trembling hands he still sustained the
+child; he bent over, ready to embrace him, forgetting that the child was
+sleeping and dreaming. Monsieur Roger was about to utter the name which
+choked him,--"My son."
+
+Then Paul Solange opened his eyes. He looked up dreamily; then he
+recognized the face before him, and surprise mingled with affection in
+his tones.
+
+"Monsieur Roger!" he said.
+
+He looked around him, saw that he was in his own room, and remembered
+nothing else. He asked,--
+
+"Why are you here, Monsieur Roger?"
+
+Mastering himself, Monsieur Roger answered that he had come to find out
+how Paul was, as he had seen him suffering the night before.
+
+"I, suffering?" asked Paul. Then he sought to remember, and, all of a
+sudden, he cried, "The fire over there at the farm!"
+
+Although his memory had not entirely returned, he recollected something.
+He hesitated to speak. Then, with an anxious voice, he asked,--
+
+"And Albert?"
+
+"Albert," answered Monsieur Roger, "he is below; and everybody is
+waiting until you come down to breakfast."
+
+"Then there were no accidents?"
+
+"No."
+
+"How fortunate! I will dress myself and be down in a minute."
+
+And, in fact, in a few minutes Paul was ready, and descended leaning on
+Monsieur Roger's arm.
+
+The latter, as they entered the dining-room, made a sign to them that
+they should all keep silence: he did not wish that they should fatigue
+the tired mind of the child with premature questions; but when they were
+sitting at the table, Paul, addressing Albert, said,--
+
+"Tell me what passed last night. It is strange I scarcely remember."
+
+"No," said Madame Dalize: "we are at table for breakfast, and we have
+all need for food,--you, Paul, above all. Come, now, let us eat; a
+little later we may talk."
+
+[Illustration]
+
+"It is well said," said Monsieur Dalize.
+
+There was nothing to do but to obey. And, indeed, Paul was glad to do
+so, for he was very hungry. He had lost so much strength that the
+stomach for the moment was more interesting to him than the brain. They
+breakfasted, and then they went out upon the lawn before the château,
+under a large walnut-tree, which every day gave its hospitable shade to
+the Dalize family and their guests.
+
+"Well, my dear Paul," said Monsieur Dalize, "how are you at present?"
+
+"Very well, indeed, sir, very well," answered Paul. "I was a little
+feeble when I first awoke, but now,--now----"
+
+He stopped speaking; he seemed lost in thought.
+
+"What is the matter?" asked Albert.
+
+"I am thinking of last night at the farm,--the fire."
+
+"Oh, that was nothing," said Albert.
+
+"But," continued Paul, "how did we get back here?"
+
+"In the carriage. Father came for us and brought us home."
+
+"And how did we leave the farm?"
+
+Monsieur Roger followed with rapt attention the workings of Paul's
+memory. He was waiting in burning anxiety the moment when Paul should
+remember. One principal fact, only one thing occupied his attention.
+Would Paul remember how and by whom he had been borne from the torpor
+which was strangling him? Would he remember that cry,--that name which
+had had the miraculous power to awake him, to bring him back to life? If
+Paul remembered that, then, perhaps---- And again Monsieur Roger was a
+prey to his fixed idea,--to his stroke of folly, as Monsieur Dalize
+called it.
+
+The latter, besides, knew nothing as yet, and Monsieur Roger counted
+upon the sudden revelation of this extraordinary fact to shake his
+conviction. But Paul had repeated his question. He asked,--
+
+"How did we leave the farm-house? How were we saved?"
+
+And as Albert did not know whether he should speak, whether he should
+tell everything, Paul continued:
+
+"But speak, explain to me: I am trying to find out. I cannot remember;
+and that gives me pain here." And he touched his head.
+
+Monsieur Roger made a sign to Albert, and the latter spoke:
+
+"Well, do you remember the turret, where we had our rooms? You slept
+above, I below. Do you remember the trap-door that I showed you? In the
+middle of the night I felt myself awakened by somebody, and I followed
+him. In my half sleep I thought that this some one was you, my poor
+friend; but, alas! you remained above; you were sleeping without fear.
+Why, it was Monsieur Roger who first saw the danger that you were in."
+
+Paul, while Albert was speaking, had bent his head, seeking in his
+memory and beginning to put in order his scattered thoughts. When
+Albert pronounced the name of Monsieur Roger, Paul raised his eyes
+towards him with a look which showed that he would soon remember.
+
+"And afterwards?" said he.
+
+"And afterwards Monsieur Roger climbed upon the roof, at the risk of his
+life, and reached the loop-hole which opened into your chamber. He broke
+the glass of the window; but you did not hear him: the smoke which was
+issuing through the floor had made you insensible,--had almost
+asphyxiated you."
+
+"Ah, I remember!" cried Paul. "I was sleeping, and, at the same time, I
+was not sleeping. I knew that I was exposed to some great danger, but I
+had not the strength to make a movement. I seemed paralyzed. I heard
+cries and confused murmurs, sounds of people coming and going. I felt
+that I ought to rise and flee, but that was impossible. My arms, my legs
+would not obey me; my eyelids, which I attempted to open, were of lead.
+I soon thought that everything was finished, that I was lost; and still
+I was saying to myself that I might be raised out of this stupor. It
+seemed to me that the efforts of some one outside might be so, that an
+order, a prayer might give back to my will the power which it had lost;
+but the stupor took hold of me more and more intensely. I was going to
+abandon myself to it, when, all of a sudden, I heard myself called. Yes,
+somebody called me; but not in the same way that I have been called
+before. In that cry there was such a command, such a prayer, so much
+faith, that my will at once recovered strength to make my body obey it.
+I roused myself; I saw and I understood, and, luckily, I remembered the
+trap-door which you had shown me. I could scarcely lift it; but there
+was some one there,--yes, some one who saved me."
+
+Paul Solange uttered a great cry.
+
+"Ah," said he, "it was Monsieur Roger!" And he ran to throw himself into
+the arms which Monsieur Roger extended to him.
+
+Miss Miette profited by the occasion to wipe her eyes, which this scene
+had filled with big tears in spite of herself. Then she turned to Paul,
+and said,--
+
+"But the one who called to you? Was it true? It was not a dream?"
+
+"Oh, no; it was some one. But who was it?"
+
+"It was Monsieur Roger," answered Albert.
+
+"And so you understood him?" continued Miette, very much interested.
+"And he called you loudly by your name, 'Paul! Paul!'"
+
+Paul Solange did not answer. This question had suddenly set him to
+thinking. No, he had not heard himself called thus. But how had he been
+called?
+
+Seeing that Paul was silent, Albert answered his little sister's
+question:
+
+"Certainly," said he, "he called Paul by his name."
+
+Then he interrupted himself, and, remembering all of a sudden:
+
+"No," cried he; "Monsieur Roger called out another name."
+
+"What other name?" asked Monsieur Dalize, much surprised.
+
+"He cried out, 'George! George!'"
+
+Monsieur Dalize turned his head towards Roger and saw the eyes of his
+friend fixed upon his own. He understood at once. Poor Roger was still a
+slave to the same thought, the same illusion.
+
+Madame Dalize and Miette, who were acquainted with the sorrows of
+Monsieur Roger, imagined that in this moment of trouble he had in spite
+of himself called up the image of his child. Paul, very gravely, was
+dreamily saying to himself that the name of George was the name which he
+had heard, and that it was to the sound of this name that he had
+answered, and he was asking himself the mysterious reason for such a
+fact.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+CHAPTER XXIII.
+
+A PROOF?
+
+
+Monsieur Dalize took his friend Roger by the arm, and they walked
+together down one of the solitary pathways of the park. When they were
+some distance off from Madame Dalize and the children, Monsieur Dalize
+stopped, looked his friend squarely in the eyes, and said, in a
+faltering tone,--
+
+"Then you still think it? You have retained that foolish idea? You think
+that Paul----?"
+
+"Yes," interrupted Monsieur Roger, in a firm voice, and without
+avoiding the eyes of his friend, "I think it, and more than that."
+Then, lowering his head, in a softened tone, but without hesitation, he
+said, "I think that Paul is my son."
+
+Monsieur Dalize looked at his friend with a feeling of real pity.
+
+"Your son?" he said. "You think that Paul is your son? And on what do
+you found this improbable, this impossible belief? Upon a likeness which
+your sorrowful spirit persists in tracing. Truly, my dear Roger, you
+grieve me. I thought you had a firmer as well as a clearer head. To whom
+could you confide such absurd ideas?"
+
+"To you, in the first place, as I have already done," said Monsieur
+Roger, gravely. "The resemblance which you doubt, and which, in fact,
+seems impossible to prove, is not a resemblance which I see between Paul
+and George, but between Paul and her who was his mother; of that I am
+sure."
+
+"You are sure?"
+
+"Yes; and in speaking thus I am in possession of all my senses, as you
+see. Now, would you like to know what further clue I have? Perhaps I
+have one. I will tell it to you."
+
+Here Monsieur Roger interrupted himself.
+
+"No," said he: "you will laugh at me."
+
+"Speak," said Monsieur Dalize. "I am sorry for you, and I shall not
+laugh at your delusion. Speak. I will listen."
+
+"Well," said Monsieur Roger, "this very morning, when you left the
+room, the noise that you made troubled the sleep of Paul; a dream passed
+through his brain, and I followed all its phases. I saw that Paul was
+going over the terrible scene of the night before; I knew that by the
+terror of his face and by the murmur of his lips. He evidently thought
+himself exposed to danger; then it seemed as if he heard something, as
+if he knew that help was at hand. He made a movement, as if to extend
+his hands, and from his mouth came this word, 'Papa.'"
+
+Monsieur Roger looked at his friend, who remained silent.
+
+"You have not understood?" he said.
+
+Monsieur Dalize shook his head.
+
+"Ah, but I understood," continued Monsieur Roger; "I am certain that I
+understood. In his dream Paul--no, no, not Paul, but George, my little
+George--had heard himself called as ten years ago he had been called at
+the time of the shipwreck, during the fire on shipboard, and he was
+answering to that call; and it was to no stranger that he was answering;
+it was not to Monsieur Roger; no, it was to his father: it was to me."
+
+Monsieur Roger stopped, seeking some other proof which he might furnish
+to Monsieur Dalize.
+
+The latter was plunged in thought; his friend's faith commenced to shake
+his doubt. He certainly did not share Roger's idea, but he was saying to
+himself that perhaps this idea was not so impossible as it would seem at
+first sight.
+
+Roger continued, hesitating from the moment he had to pronounce the name
+of Paul Solange:
+
+"You remember exactly the story that Paul told. Were you not struck with
+it? Did not Paul acknowledge that in his torpor, in his semi-asphyxia,
+he had called for help, called to his assistance some unknown force
+which would shake and awake his dazed and half-paralyzed will? And did
+not this help come, this sudden force, when he felt himself called? Now,
+how many times I had cried out 'Paul' without waking the child! Paul was
+not his name; he did not hear it. I had to shout to him, making use of
+his own name, his real name. I cried out, 'George!' and George heard and
+understood me. George was saved."
+
+Monsieur Dalize listened attentively: he was following up a train of
+reasoning. At the end of some moments he answered Monsieur Roger, who
+was awaiting with impatience the result of his thoughts.
+
+"Alas, my poor friend! in spite of all my reason tells me, I should like
+to leave to you your hope, but it is impossible. I have seen Paul's
+father; I know him; I have spoken to him, I have touched him; that
+father is not a shadow,--he exists in flesh and blood. You have heard
+Paul himself speak of him. In a few months he will come to Paris; you
+will see him; and then you will be convinced."
+
+"But have you seen the birth-register of Paul Solange?" asked Monsieur
+Roger.
+
+"Have I seen it? I may have done so, but I don't remember just now."
+
+"But that register must have been made; it must be in France, in the
+hands of some one."
+
+"Certainly."
+
+"Where can it be?"
+
+"At the Lyceum, in the dockets of the registrar."
+
+"Well, my friend, my dear friend, I must see it. You understand?"
+
+"Yes, I understand. You wish to have under your own eyes the proof of
+your mistake. You shall have it. As the guardian of Paul Solange, I will
+write the registrar to send me a copy of that birth-register. Are you
+satisfied?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And now, I ask you to be calm, to keep cool."
+
+"Oh, don't be uneasy about me," answered Monsieur Roger.
+
+Then the two friends rejoined the group which they had left.
+
+Miette rose when she saw Monsieur Roger.
+
+"Ah!" she cried, "Monsieur Roger is going to tell us that."
+
+"That? What?" asked Monsieur Dalize.
+
+"Why, what asphyxia is," answered Miette.
+
+"Ah, my friend," said Monsieur Dalize, turning to Roger, "I will leave
+the word to you."
+
+"Very well," answered Monsieur Roger. "Asphyxia is,--it is----"
+
+And as Monsieur Roger was seeking for some easy words in which to
+explain himself, Miette cried out, with a laugh,--
+
+"Perhaps you don't know yourself,--you who know everything?"
+
+"Yes, I know it," answered Monsieur Roger, with a smile; "but, in order
+to tell you, I must first explain to you what is the formation of the
+blood, and tell you something of oxygen and carbonic acid, and----"
+
+"Well, tell us," cried Miette, "if you think it will interest us.--It
+will, won't it, Paul?"
+
+Paul bent his head.
+
+Monsieur Roger saw this gesture, and replied,--
+
+"Well, then, I am going to tell you."
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+CHAPTER XXIV.
+
+THE AIR AND THE LUNGS.
+
+
+"In order to live," continued Monsieur Roger, "you must breathe. You
+don't doubt that?"
+
+"No," said Miss Miette, seriously.
+
+"Now, respiration consists in the absorption by the blood of some of the
+oxygen of the air and in breathing out carbonic acid. The oxygen, in
+combining with the carbon and hydrogen of the blood, excites a real
+combustion in the lungs, which results in the production of heat and in
+the exhalation of vapor and carbonic acid."
+
+Monsieur Roger was going to continue in the same scientific tone, when
+Monsieur Dalize remarked to him that his explanation did not seem to be
+at all understood by the children.
+
+The latter, a little embarrassed, held their tongues.
+
+"You are right," replied Monsieur Roger, addressing Monsieur Dalize;
+"that is a silence which is certainly not very flattering. I intend to
+profit by this lesson by beginning once more at the beginning."
+
+"You are right," said Miette.
+
+"Well, then, respiration is the very important function whose object is
+to introduce air into our lungs.
+
+"What are the lungs, and why is it necessary to introduce air into them?
+And, in the first place, how is this air introduced? Through the mouth
+and through the nose. Then it passes through the larynx and arrives at a
+large tube, which is called the trachea, or wind-pipe. It is this tube
+which, as I shall show you, forms the two lungs. As it enters the chest,
+this tube branches out into two smaller tubes, which are called the
+primary bronches. One of these bronches goes to the right, to make the
+right lung; the other to the left, to make the left lung. Each primary
+bronche is soon divided into a number of little tubes, called secondary
+bronches. The secondary bronches divide up into a number of other tubes,
+which are still smaller; and so on, and so on. Imagine a tree with two
+branches, one spreading towards the right, and the other towards the
+left. Upon these two branches grow other branches; upon these other
+branches still others, and so on. The branches become smaller and
+smaller until they become mere twigs. Now, imagine these twigs ending in
+leaves, and you will have some idea of that which is sometimes called
+the pulmonary tree, with its thousand branches."
+
+"No," said Miette: "bronches."
+
+"Bronches,--you are right," said Monsieur Roger, who could not help
+smiling at Miss Miette. "The tree which I have taken as a comparison
+finishes by dividing itself into twigs, which, as I have said, end in
+leaves. But you know, of course, that the twigs of the pulmonary tree in
+our breast do not end in leaves. They end in a sort of very small cells,
+surrounded by very thin walls. These cells are so small that they need a
+microscope to detect them, and their walls are very, very thin; the
+cells are all stuck fast together, and together they constitute a spongy
+mass, which is the lung. Now let us pass to the second question: Why is
+it necessary to introduce air into the lungs?"
+
+"Yes," said Miette; "let us pass to that."
+
+[Illustration]
+
+"The blood, in going out of the heart, circulates to all the parts of
+the body in order to make necessary repairs; at the same time it charges
+itself with all the old matter which has been used up and is no longer
+any good and carries it along. Now, what is it going to do with this old
+matter? It will burn it. Where will it burn it? In the lungs. Now, there
+can be no combustion when there is no air. The blood, wishing to burn
+its waste matter, and wishing also to purify the alimentary principles
+which the veins have drawn from the stomach, has need of air. Where will
+it find it? In the lungs. And that is why it is necessary to introduce
+air into our lungs, or, in other words, that is why we breathe. The
+lungs are a simple intermediary between the air and the blood. Among the
+cells of the lungs veins finer than hair wind and turn. These veins
+gather up the blood filled with waste matter. It is blood of a black
+color, which is called venous blood. The walls of the veins which
+transport the blood are so thin that air, under the atmospheric
+pressure,--this pressure which I have told you all about,--passes
+through them and into the blood. Then the venous blood charges itself
+with the oxygen contained in the air, and frees itself from what I have
+called its waste material, and which is nothing less than carbon.
+Immediately its aspect changes. This venous blood becomes what is called
+arterial blood; this black blood becomes rich vermilion,--it is
+regenerated. It goes out again to carry life to all our organs. Now,
+this time," asked Monsieur Roger, pausing, "have I made myself
+understood?"
+
+[Illustration]
+
+"Yes," said Miette, speaking both for Paul and for herself; "yes, we
+have understood,--except when you speak of oxygen, of carbon, and of
+combustion."
+
+"Oh, I was wrong to speak of them," answered Monsieur Roger, pretending
+to be vexed.
+
+"That may be," answered Miss Miette, very calmly; "but as you did speak
+of them, you must tell us what they are."
+
+"Yes, you must, my friend," remarked Monsieur Dalize, taking sides with
+his little girl.
+
+"Mustn't he, papa? mustn't Monsieur Roger explain?" asked Miette.
+
+"Come, now," said Monsieur Roger, in a resigned tone. "You must know,
+then, that air is composed of two gases,--oxygen and nitrogen;
+therefore, when we breathe, we send into our lungs oxygen and nitrogen.
+You might think, when we throw out this air, when we exhale,--you might
+think, I say, that this air coming out of our lungs is still composed of
+oxygen and of nitrogen in the same proportions. Now, it is not so at
+all. The quantity of nitrogen has not varied, but, in the first place,
+there is less oxygen, and there is another gas,--carbonic acid gas;
+where, then, is the oxygen which we have not exhaled, and whence comes
+this carbonic acid which we did not inhale? Then, besides, in the air
+exhaled there is vapor. Where does that come from? These phenomena
+result from the combustion of which I speak; but, in order that you
+should understand how this combustion occurs, I must explain to you what
+is oxygen and what is nitrogen. And as it is a long story, you must let
+me put it off till this evening; then I will talk until you are weary,
+my dear little Miette."
+
+Miette looked at Albert and Paul, and answered for them with remarkable
+frankness:
+
+"It will be only right if you do weary us. It is we who asked you, and,
+besides, we have so often wearied you that it is only right you should
+have your revenge on us. Still----"
+
+"Still, what?"
+
+"Still, we can trust you," added Miette, laughing, and throwing her arms
+around Roger's neck.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+CHAPTER XXV.
+
+OXYGEN.
+
+
+"We were saying that oxygen----" cried Miss Miette, with a smile, that
+evening, after dinner, seeing that Monsieur Roger had completely
+forgotten his promise.
+
+"Yes," Monsieur Dalize hastened to add, as he wished to distract his
+friend from sad thoughts; "yes, my dear Roger, we were saying that
+oxygen----"
+
+"Is a gas," continued Monsieur Roger, good-humoredly. "Yes, it is a
+gas; and Miette, I suppose, will want to ask me, 'What is gas?'"
+
+"Certainly," said Miette.
+
+"Well, it is only recently that we have found out, although the old
+scientists, who called themselves alchemists, had remarked that besides
+those things that come within reach of our senses there also exists
+something invisible, impalpable; and, as their scientific methods did
+not enable them to detect this thing, they had considered it a portion
+of the spirit land; and indeed some of the names which they adopted
+under this idea still remain in common use. Don't we often call alcohol
+'spirits of wine'? As these ancients did not see the air which
+surrounded them, it was difficult for them to know that men live in an
+ocean of gas, in the same way as fish live in water; and they could not
+imagine that air is a matter just as much as water is. You remember that
+universal gravitation was discovered through----"
+
+"The fall of an apple," said Miette.
+
+"Yes; and that was something that every one knew; it was a very common
+fact that an apple would fall. Well, it was another common fact, another
+well-known thing, which enabled the Fleming Van Helmont to discover in
+the seventeenth century the real existence of gases, or at least of a
+gas. Van Helmont, one winter evening, was struck by the difference
+between the bulk of the wood which burned on his hearth and the bulk of
+the ashes left by the wood after its combustion. He wished to examine
+into this phenomenon, and he made some experiments. He readily found
+that sixty-two pounds of charcoal left, after combustion, only one pound
+of ashes. Now, what had become of the other sixty-one pounds? Reason
+showed him that they had been transformed into something invisible, or,
+according to the language of the times, into some aërial spirit. This
+something Van Helmont called 'gaast,' which in Flemish means spirit, and
+which is the same word as our ghost. From the word gaast we have made
+our word gas. The gas which Van Helmont discovered was, as we now know,
+carbonic acid. This scientist made another experiment which caused him
+to think a good deal, but which he could not explain. Now, we can repeat
+this experiment, if it will give you any pleasure."
+
+"Certainly," said Miette; "what shall I bring you?"
+
+"Only two things,--a soup-plate and a candle."
+
+Monsieur Roger lit the candle and placed it in the middle of the
+soup-plate, which he had filled with water. Then he sought among the
+instruments which had come with the air-pump, and found a little glass
+globe. He placed the globe over the candle in the middle of the plate.
+Very soon, as if by a species of suction, the water of the plate rose in
+the globe; then the candle went out.
+
+"Can Miss Miette explain to me what she has just seen?" said Monsieur
+Roger.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+Miette reflected, and said,--
+
+"As the water rose in the globe, it must have been because the air had
+left the globe, since the water came to take its place."
+
+"Yes," answered Monsieur Roger; "but the air could not leave the globe,
+as there is no opening in the globe on top, and below it there is water.
+It did not leave the globe, but it diminished. Now, tell me why it
+diminished."
+
+"Ah, I cannot tell you."
+
+"Well, Van Helmont was in just your position. He could not know anything
+about the cause of this diminution, because he was ignorant of the
+composition of the air, which was not discovered until the next century
+by the celebrated French chemist Lavoisier. Now, this is how Lavoisier
+arrived at this important discovery. In the first place, he knew that
+metals, when they are calcined,--that is to say, when they are exposed
+to the action of fire,--increase in weight. This fact had been remarked
+before his time by Dr. Jehan Rey, under the following circumstances: A
+druggist named Brun came one day to consult the doctor. Rey asked to be
+allowed to feel his pulse.
+
+"'But I am not sick,' cried the druggist.
+
+"'Then what are you doing here?' said the doctor.
+
+"'I come to consult you.'
+
+"'Then you must be sick.'
+
+"'Not at all. I come to consult you not for sickness, but in regard to
+an extraordinary thing which occurred in my laboratory.'
+
+"'What was it?' asked Rey, beginning to be interested.
+
+"'I had to calcine two pounds six ounces of tin. I weighed it carefully
+and then calcined it, and after the operation I weighed it again by
+chance, and what was my astonishment to find two pounds and thirteen
+ounces! Whence come these extra seven ounces? That is what I could not
+explain to myself, and that is why I came to consult you.'
+
+"Rey tried the same experiment again and again, and finally concluded
+that the increase of weight came from combination with some part of the
+air.
+
+"It is probable that this explanation did not satisfy the druggist; and
+yet the doctor was right. The increase came from the combination of the
+metal with that part of the air which Lavoisier called oxygen. That
+great chemist, after long study, declared that air was not a simple
+body, but that it was a composite formed of two bodies, of two
+gases,--oxygen and nitrogen. This opinion, running counter as it did to
+all preconceived ideas, raised a storm around the head of the learned
+man. He was looked upon as a fool, as an imbecile, as an ignoramus. That
+is the usual way.
+
+"Lavoisier resolved to show to the unbelievers the two bodies whose
+existence he had announced. In the experiment of increasing the weight
+of metals during calcination, an experiment which has been often
+repeated since Jehan Rey's time, either tin or lead had always been
+used. Now, these metals, during calcination, absorb a good deal of
+oxygen from the air, but, once they have absorbed it, they do not give
+it up again. Lavoisier abandoned tin and lead, and made use of a liquid
+metal called mercury. Mercury possesses not only the property of
+combining with the oxygen of the air when it is heated, but also that of
+giving back this oxygen as soon as the boiling-point is passed. The
+chemist put mercury in a glass retort whose neck was very long and bent
+over twice. The retort was placed upon an oven in such a way that the
+bent end of the neck opened into the top of the globe full of air,
+placed in a tube also full of mercury. By means of a bent tube, a little
+air had been sucked out of the globe in such a way that the mercury in
+the tube, finding the pressure diminished, had risen a slight distance
+in the globe. In this manner the height of the mercury in the globe was
+very readily seen. The level of the mercury in the globe was noted
+exactly, as well as the temperature and the pressure. Everything being
+now ready for the experiment, Lavoisier heated the mercury in the retort
+to the boiling-point, and kept it on the fire for twelve days. The
+mercury became covered with red pellicles, whose number increased
+towards the seventh and eighth days; at the end of the twelfth day, as
+the pellicles did not increase, Lavoisier discontinued the heat. Then he
+found out that the mercury had risen in the globe much higher than
+before he had begun the experiment, which indicated that the air
+contained in the globe had diminished. The air which remained in the
+globe had become a gas which was unfit either for combustion or for
+respiration; in fact, it was nitrogen. But the air which had
+disappeared from the globe, where had it gone to? What had become of
+it?"
+
+"Yes," said Miette, "it is like the air of our globe just now. Where has
+it gone?"
+
+"Wait a moment. Let us confine ourselves to Lavoisier's experiment."
+
+"We are listening."
+
+"Well, Lavoisier decided that the air which had disappeared could not
+have escaped from the globe, because that was closed on all sides. He
+examined the mercury. It seemed in very much the same state. What
+difference was there? None, excepting the red pellicles. Then it was in
+the pellicles that he must seek for the air which had disappeared. So
+the red pellicles were taken up and heated in a little retort, furnished
+with a tube which could gather the gas; under the action of heat the
+pellicles were decomposed. Lavoisier obtained mercury and a gas. The
+quantity of gas which he obtained represented the exact difference
+between the original bulk of the air in the globe and the bulk of the
+gas which the globe held at the end of the experiment. Therefore
+Lavoisier had not been deceived. The air which had disappeared from the
+globe had been found. This gas restored from the red pellicles was much
+better fitted than the air of the atmosphere for combustion and
+respiration. When a candle was placed in it, it burned with a dazzling
+light. A piece of charcoal, instead of consuming quietly, as in ordinary
+air, burned with a flame and with a sort of crackling sound, and with a
+light so strong that the eye could hardly bear it. That gas was oxygen."
+
+"And so the doubters were convinced," said Miette.
+
+"Or at least they ought to have been," added Monsieur Dalize,
+philosophically.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+CHAPTER XXVI.
+
+WHY WATER PUTS OUT FIRE.
+
+
+"You have never seen oxygen any more than you have seen air," continued
+Monsieur Roger. "You have never seen it, and you never will see it with
+your eyes,--for those organs are very imperfect. I need not therefore
+say oxygen is a colorless gas; and yet I will say it to you by force of
+habit. All books of chemistry begin in this way. Besides this, it is
+without smell and without taste. Oxygen is extremely well fitted for
+combustion. A half-extinguished candle--that is, one whose wick is still
+burning but without flame--will relight instantly if placed in a globe
+full of oxygen. Almost all the metals, except the precious metals, such
+as gold, silver, and platinum, burn, or oxydize more or less rapidly,
+when they are put in contact with oxygen; for, besides those lively
+combustions, in which metals, or other materials, become hot and are
+maintained in a state of incandescence, there are other kinds of burning
+which may be called slow combustions. You have often had under your
+eyes, without knowing it, examples of these slow combustions. For
+example, you have seen bits of iron left in the air, or in the water,
+and covered with a dark-red or light-red matter."
+
+"That is rust," said Miette.
+
+"Yes, that is what they call rust; and this rust is nothing less than
+the product of the combustion of the iron. The oxygen which is found in
+the air, or the water, has come in contact with the bit of iron and has
+made it burn. It is a slow combustion, without flames, but it
+nevertheless releases some heat. Verdigris, in some of its forms, is
+nothing less than the product of the combustion----"
+
+"Of copper," interrupted Miette again.
+
+"Miette has said it. These metals burn when they come in contact with
+the oxygen of the air,--or, in the language of science, they are
+oxydized; and this oxydation is simple combustion. Therefore, oxygen is
+the principal agent in combustion. The process which we call burning is
+due to the oxygen uniting itself to some combustible body. There is no
+doubt on that subject, for it has been found that the weight of the
+products of combustion is equal to the sum of the weight of the body
+which burns and that of the oxygen which combines with it. In the
+experiment which we have made, if the oxygen has diminished in the
+globe, if it seems to have disappeared, it is because it has united
+itself and combined with the carbon of the candle to form the flame. In
+the same way in Lavoisier's experiment it had combined itself with the
+mercury to form the red pellicles. The candle had gone out when all the
+oxygen in the globe had been absorbed; the red pellicles had ceased to
+form when they found no more oxygen. In this way Lavoisier discovered
+that the air was formed of a mixture of two gases: the first was oxygen,
+of which we have just spoken; the second was nitrogen. The nitrogen,
+which is also a colorless, odorless, and tasteless gas, possesses some
+qualities that are precisely contrary to those of oxygen. Oxygen is the
+agent of combustion. Nitrogen extinguishes bodies in combustion. Oxygen
+is a gas indispensable to our existence, with which our lungs breathe,
+and which revives our being. The nitrogen, on the contrary, contains no
+properties that are directly useful to the body. Animals placed in a
+globe full of nitrogen perish of asphyxia. In other words, they drown in
+the gas, or are smothered by it. I suppose you will ask me what is the
+use of this gas, and why it enters into the composition of the air? You
+will ask it with all the more curiosity when you know that the air
+contains four times as much nitrogen as oxygen; to be exact, a hundred
+cubic feet of air contains seventy-nine cubic feet of nitrogen and
+twenty-one cubic feet of oxygen. Now, the important part that nitrogen
+plays is to moderate the action of the oxygen in respiration. You may
+compare this nitrogen mixed with oxygen to the water which you put in a
+glass of wine to temper it. Nitrogen possesses also another property
+which is more general: it is one of the essential elements in a certain
+number of mineral and vegetable substances and the larger portion of
+animal substances. There are certain compounds containing nitrogen which
+are indispensable to our food. An animal nourished entirely on food
+which is destitute of nitrogen would become weak and would soon die."
+
+"Excuse me, Monsieur Roger," said Albert Dalize: "how can nitrogen enter
+into our food?"
+
+"That is a very good question," added Miette, laughing; "surely you
+cannot eat nitrogen and you cannot eat gas."
+
+"The question is indeed a very sensible one," answered Monsieur Roger;
+"but this is how nitrogen enters into our food. We are carnivorous, are
+we not? we eat meat and flesh of animals. And what flesh do we chiefly
+eat? The flesh of sheep and of cattle. Sheep and cattle are herbivorous:
+they feed on herbs, on vegetables. Now, vegetables contain nitrogen.
+They have taken this nitrogen, either directly or indirectly, from the
+atmosphere and have fixed it in their tissues. Herbivorous animals, in
+eating vegetables, eat nitrogen, and we, who are carnivorous, we also
+eat nitrogen, since we eat the herbivorous animals. We also eat
+vegetable food, many kinds of which contain more or less nitrogen. Do
+you understand?"
+
+"Yes, I understand," said Miette.
+
+"There is nobody living who really understands this matter very well,
+for it is an extremely obscure, though very important, subject," replied
+Monsieur Roger. "But, to resume our explanation. Besides oxygen and
+nitrogen, there is also in the air a little carbonic acid and vapor. The
+carbonic acid will bring us back to the point from which we
+started,--the phenomenon of breathing. Carbonic acid is a gas formed by
+oxygen and carbon. The carbon is a body which is found under a large
+variety of forms. It has two or more varieties,--it is either pure or
+mixed with impurities. Its varieties can be united in two groups. The
+first group comprises the diamond and graphite, or plumbago, which are
+natural carbon. The second group comprises coal, charcoal, and the soot
+of a chimney, which we may call, for convenience, artificial carbon.
+When oxygen finds itself in contact with carbonaceous matter,--that is
+to say, with matter that contains carbon,--and when the surrounding
+temperature has reached the proper degree of heat, carbonic acid begins
+to be formed. In the oven and the furnace, coal and charcoal mingle with
+the oxygen of the air and give the necessary heat; but it is first
+necessary that by the aid of a match, paper, and kindling-wood you
+should have furnished the temperature at which oxygen can join with the
+carbon in order to burn it. That is what we may call an active or a
+live combustion; but there can also be a slow combustion of carbon,--a
+combustion without flame, and still giving out heat. It is this
+combustion which goes on in our body by means of respiration."
+
+"Ah, now we have come around to it!" cried Miette. "That is the very
+thing I was inquiring about."
+
+"Well, now that we have come around to it," answered Monsieur Roger,
+"tell me what I began to say to you on the subject of respiration."
+
+"That is not very difficult," answered Miette, in her quiet manner. "You
+told us that we swallowed oxygen and gave out carbonic acid; and you
+also said, 'Whence comes this carbonic acid? From combustion.' That is
+why I said, just now, 'We have come around to it.'"
+
+"Very good,--very good, indeed, only we do not _swallow_ oxygen, but we
+_inhale_ it," said Monsieur Dalize, charmed with the cleverness of his
+little girl.
+
+"What, then, is the cause of this production of carbonic acid?"
+continued Monsieur Roger. "You don't know? Well, I am going to tell you.
+The oxygen of the air which we breathe arrives into our lungs and finds
+itself in contact with the carbon in the black or venous blood. The
+carbon contained here joins with the oxygen, and forms the carbonic acid
+which we breathe out. This is a real, a slow combustion which takes
+place not only in our lungs,--as I said at first, in order not to make
+the explanation too difficult,--but also in all the different portions
+of our body. The air composed of oxygen and nitrogen--for the nitrogen
+enters naturally with the oxygen--penetrates into the pulmonary cells,
+spreads itself through the blood, and is borne through the numberless
+little capillary vessels. It is in these little vessels that combustion
+takes place,--that is to say, that the oxygen unites with the carbon and
+that carbonic acid is formed. This carbonic acid circulates, dissolved
+in the blood, until it can escape out of it. It is in the lungs that it
+finds liberty. When it arrives there it escapes from the blood, is
+exhaled, and is at once replaced by the new oxygen and the new nitrogen
+which arrive from outside. The nitrogen absorbed in aspiration at the
+same time as the oxygen is found to be of very much the same quantity
+when it goes out. There has therefore been no appreciable absorption of
+nitrogen. Now, this slow combustion causes the heat of our body; in
+fact, what is called the animal-heat is due to the caloric set free at
+the moment when the oxygen is converted into carbonic acid, in the same
+way as in all combustion of carbon. In conclusion, I will remind you
+that our digestion is exercised on two sorts of food,--nitrogenous food
+and carbonaceous food. Nitrogenous food--like fibrin, which is the chief
+substance in flesh; albumen, which is the principal substance of the
+egg; caseine, the principal substance of milk; legumine, of peas and
+beans--is assimilated in our organs, which they regenerate, which they
+rebuild continually. Carbonaceous foods--like the starch of the potato,
+of sugar, alcohol, oils, and the fat of animals--do not assimilate; they
+do not increase at all the substance of our muscles or the solidity of
+our bones. It is they which are burned and which aid in burning those
+waste materials of the venous blood of which I have already spoken.
+Still, many starchy foods do contain some nutritive principles, but in
+very small quantity. You will understand how little when you know that
+you would have to eat about fifteen pounds of potatoes to give your body
+the force that would be given it by a single pound of beef."
+
+"Oh," said Miette, "I don't like beef; but fifteen pounds of
+potatoes,--I would care still less to eat so much at once."
+
+"All the less that they would fatten you perceptibly," replied Monsieur
+Roger; "in fact, it is the carbonaceous foods which fatten. If they are
+introduced into the body in too great a quantity, they do not find
+enough oxygen to burn them, and they are deposited in the adipose or
+fatty tissue, where they will be useless and often harmful. You see how
+indispensable oxygen is to human life, and you now understand that if
+respiration does not go on with regularity, if the oxygen of your room
+should become exhausted, if the lungs were filled with carbonic acid
+produced by the combustion of fuel outside the body, there would follow
+at first a great deal of difficulty in breathing, then fainting, torpor,
+and, finally, asphyxia."
+
+These last words, pronounced by Monsieur Roger with much emotion,
+brought before them a remembrance so recent and so terrible that all
+remained silent and thoughtful. It was Miss Miette who first broke the
+spell by asking a new question of her friend Roger. Asphyxia had
+recalled to her the fire. Then she had thought of the manner of
+extinguishing fire, and she said, all of a sudden, her idea translating
+itself upon her lips almost without consciousness,--
+
+"Why does water extinguish fire?"
+
+Monsieur Roger, drawn out of his thoughts by this question, raised his
+head, looked at Miette, and said to her,--
+
+"In the first place, do you know what water is?"
+
+"No; but you were going to tell me."
+
+"All right. The celebrated Lavoisier, after having shown that air is not
+a simple body, but that it is composed of two gases, next turned his
+attention to the study of water, which was also, up to that time,
+considered to be an element; that is, a simple body. He studied it so
+skilfully that he succeeded in showing that water was formed by the
+combination of two gases."
+
+"Of two gases!--water?" cried Miette.
+
+"Certainly, of two gases. One of these gases is oxygen, which we have
+already spoken of, and the other is hydrogen."
+
+"Which we are going to speak of," added Miette.
+
+"Of course," answered Monsieur Roger, "since you wish it. But it was not
+Lavoisier, however, who first discovered hydrogen. This gas had been
+discovered before his time by the chemists Paracelsus and Boyle, who had
+found out that in placing iron or zinc in contact with an acid called
+sulphuric acid, there was disengaged an air "like a breath." This air
+"like a breath" is what we now call hydrogen. Lavoisier, with the
+assistance of the chemist Meusnier, proved that it was this gas which in
+combining with oxygen formed water. In order to do this he blew a
+current of hydrogen into a retort filled with oxygen. As this hydrogen
+penetrated into the retort, he set fire to it by means of electric
+sparks. Two stop-cocks regulated the proper proportions of the oxygen
+and the hydrogen in the retort. When the combustion took place, they saw
+water form in drops upon the sides of the retort and unite at the
+bottom. Water was therefore the product of the combination of hydrogen
+with oxygen. The following anecdote is told in regard to this
+combination. A chemist of the last century, who was fond of flattery,
+was engaged to give some lessons to a young prince of the blood royal.
+When he came to explain the composition of water, he prepared before his
+scholar the necessary apparatus for making the combination of hydrogen
+and oxygen, and, at the moment when he was about to send the electric
+spark into the retort, he said, bowing his head,--
+
+[Illustration]
+
+"'If it please your Royal Highness, this hydrogen and oxygen are about
+to have the honor of combining before you.'
+
+"I don't know if the hydrogen and the oxygen were aware of the honor
+which was being done them; but certainly they combined with no more
+manners than if their spectator was an ordinary boy. Now, I may add, you
+must not confound combinations with mixtures; thus, air is a mixture of
+oxygen and nitrogen, while water is a combination of hydrogen and
+oxygen. This combination is a union of the molecules of the two gases
+which produces a composite body formed of new molecules. These new
+molecules are water. Now, this last word recalls to me Miette's
+question."
+
+"Yes," said the latter: "why does water put out fire?"
+
+"There are two reasons for this phenomenon," said Monsieur Roger: "the
+first is that water thrown upon the fire forms around the matter in
+combustion a thick cloud, or vapor, which prevents the air from reaching
+it. The wood, which was burning--that is to say, which was mingling with
+the oxygen of the air--finds its communication intercepted. The humid
+vapor has interposed between the carbon of the wood and the oxygen of
+the air; therefore, the combustion is forced to stop. Further, water
+falling upon the fire is transformed, as you very well know, into vapor,
+or steam. Now, this conversion into vapor necessitates the taking up of
+a certain quantity of heat. This heat is taken away from the body which
+is being burned, and that body is thus made much cooler; the combustion
+therefore becomes less active, and the fire is at last extinguished."
+
+"Very good," said Miette; "but still another question, and I will let
+you alone."
+
+"You promise?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Well, then, what is your last question?"
+
+"Why is a candle put out by blowing on it, and why do they light a fire
+by doing the same thing?"
+
+"In these two cases there are two very different actions," replied
+Monsieur Roger: "in the first there is a mechanical action, and in the
+second a chemical action. In blowing upon a candle the violence of the
+air which you send out of your mouth detaches a flame which holds on
+only to the wick. The burning particles of this wick are blown away, and
+consequently the combustion is stopped. But the case is very different
+when you blow with a bellows or with your mouth upon the fire in the
+stove. There the substance in combustion, whether wood or coal, is a
+mass large enough to resist the violence of the current of air you throw
+in, and it profits from the air which you send to it so abundantly, by
+taking the oxygen which it contains and burning up still more briskly.
+
+"Now, that is the answer to your last question; and I must beg you to
+remember your promise, and ask me no more hard questions to-night."
+
+"Yes, friend Roger," said Miette, "I will leave you alone; you may go to
+sleep."
+
+"And it will be a well-earned sleep," added Madame Dalize, with the
+assent of every one.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+CHAPTER XXVII.
+
+PAUL OR GEORGE?
+
+
+At the end of this long talk every one rose. Monsieur and Madame Dalize,
+with Monsieur Roger and Albert, walked towards the château. Paul
+Solange, silent and motionless, followed them with his eyes. When
+Monsieur Roger reached the step, he turned and made a friendly gesture
+to Paul, who responded by a bow. His eyes, in resting on Monsieur Roger,
+had an affectionate, softened, and respectful look. Miette saw it, and
+was struck by it. She approached, passed her arm in Paul's, and said,
+softly,--
+
+"You love him very much,--Monsieur Roger?"
+
+"Yes," answered Paul, with surprise.
+
+"You love him very, very much?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And he too loves you very well. I can see that. But do you love him as
+much as if he----?"
+
+And Miette paused, embarrassed a little, feeling that what she was going
+to say was very important; still, being certain that she was right, she
+continued:
+
+"As much as if he was--your papa?"
+
+Paul started.
+
+"Yes; you love him as much and perhaps--perhaps more," she cried, seeing
+Paul start.
+
+"Why do you say things like that to me?" murmured Paul, much moved.
+
+"Because--nothing."
+
+"Why do you think that I love Monsieur Roger in the manner that you have
+just said?"
+
+"Because----"
+
+"Because what?"
+
+"Well, because I look at my papa just as I see you looking at Monsieur
+Roger."
+
+Paul tried to hide his embarrassment, and replied,--
+
+"You are foolish."
+
+Then he looked up at Miette, who shook her head and smiled, as if to
+say that she was not foolish. An idea came to him.
+
+"Miette," said he, softly, "I am going to ask you something."
+
+"Ask it."
+
+"But you will tell it to no one?"
+
+"To no one."
+
+"Well, do you know why Monsieur Roger, at the fire at the farm, called
+me--called me George?"
+
+"Why, certainly, I know."
+
+"You know?" cried Paul.
+
+"Yes: he called you George because he thought suddenly that his child,
+his little George, whom he lost in a fire,--in a fire on shipboard----"
+
+Paul Solange listened, opening his eyes very wide.
+
+"Ah, that is true. You don't know anything about it. You were not here
+when Monsieur Roger told us this terrible thing."
+
+"No, I was not here; but you were here, Miette. Well, speak--tell me all
+about it."
+
+Then Miette repeated to Paul Monsieur Roger's story; she told him about
+the departure of Monsieur Roger, his wife, and their little George for
+America, their voyage on the ship, then the fire at sea. She told about
+the grief, the almost insane grief, which Monsieur Roger had felt when
+he saw himself separated from his wife and his son, who had been taken
+off in a boat, while he remained upon the steamer. Then she told Paul of
+the despair of Monsieur Roger when he saw that boat disappear and
+bear down with it to a watery grave those whom he loved.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+"At that moment," continued Miette, "Monsieur Roger told us that he
+cried out 'George! George!' with a voice so loud, so terrified, that
+certainly his little boy must have heard."
+
+Miette stopped.
+
+"Why, what is the matter, Paul?" she cried: "are you sick?"
+
+For Paul Solange had suddenly become so pale that Miette was scared.
+
+"Not at all," said he; "not at all; but finish your story."
+
+"It is finished."
+
+"How?"
+
+"Poor Monsieur Roger has never again seen his wife or his little
+George--or at least he saw his wife, whose body had been cast up by the
+waves, but the body of the little boy remained at the bottom of the
+sea."
+
+After a silence, Miette added,--
+
+"You now understand how it is that the fire at the farm recalled to him
+at once the fire on the ship, and why, in his grief, in his fright to
+see you in so great a danger, he thought of his little boy, and cried
+'George!' You understand, don't you?"
+
+Paul remained an instant without answering; then, very gravely, with a
+pale face and wide open eyes, he said,--
+
+"I understand."
+
+Paul Solange did not sleep the night which followed the day on which he
+learned all these things. His brain was full of strange thoughts. He was
+calling up shadowy confused recollections. He sought to go back as far
+as possible to the first years of his childhood, but his memory was at
+fault. He suddenly found a dark corner where everything disappeared; he
+could go no farther; but now that he knew Monsieur Roger's story, he was
+certain, absolutely certain that he had answered to the name of George
+in the fire at the farm. It was that name, that name only, which had
+suddenly shaken off his torpor and given him the strength to awake; it
+was that name that had saved him. Feverishly searching in his memory, he
+said to himself that this name he had heard formerly pronounced with the
+same loud and terrified voice in some crisis, which must have been very
+terrible, but which he could not recall; and then, hesitating anxiously,
+feeling that he was making a fool of himself, he asked himself if it was
+during the fire on shipboard, of which Miette had spoken, that he had
+heard this name of George; and little by little, in the silence of the
+night, this conviction entered and fixed itself in his mind. Then he
+turned his thoughts upon the way that Monsieur Roger had treated him.
+Whence this sudden and great affection which Monsieur Roger had shown
+him? Why that sympathy which he knew to be profound and whose cause he
+could not explain, as he did not merit it a bit more than his friend
+Albert? Why had Monsieur Roger so bravely risked his life to save him?
+Why had his emotion been so great? Lastly, why this cry of "George?"
+
+And Paul Solange arrived at this logical conclusion,--
+
+"If Monsieur Roger loves me so much; if he gave me, at the terrible
+moment when I came near dying, the name of his son, it must be because I
+recalled to him his son; it must be because I resemble his little
+George. And what then?"
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+CHAPTER XXVIII.
+
+MY FATHER.
+
+
+When Paul at last fell into an uneasy sleep, the sun had been up for
+some hours. Monsieur Dalize and his friend Roger went out from the
+château.
+
+"Has the postman not been here yet?" said Monsieur Dalize to his
+servant.
+
+"No sir; he will not be here for an hour."
+
+"Very well; we will go to meet him."
+
+And in fact, in his haste, Monsieur Roger carried his friend off to meet
+the postman.
+
+But days had elapsed since Monsieur Dalize had, according to promise,
+written to the registrar of births, to ask him to forward a copy of the
+register of birth of Paul Solange, and no answer had yet arrived. This
+silence had astonished Monsieur Dalize and given a hope to Monsieur
+Roger.
+
+"There must be some reason, don't you see," he said, walking beside his
+friend. "Some important reason why the registrar has not yet answered
+your pressing letter."
+
+"A reason, an important reason," replied Monsieur Dalize; "the
+explanation may be that the registrar is away."
+
+"No; there is some other reason," answered Monsieur Roger with
+conviction.
+
+Half-way to the station they met the letter-carrier, who said,--
+
+"Monsieur Dalize, there are two letters for you."
+
+The first letter which Monsieur Dalize opened bore the address of the
+registrar of births. He rapidly read the few lines, then turned towards
+Roger.
+
+"You are right," said he; "there is a reason. Read."
+
+"I pray _you_ read it; I am too much excited," replied Roger.
+
+Monsieur Dalize read as follows:
+
+"=Sir=:
+
+  "The researches which I have made in my docket to find the
+  register of birth of Paul Solange must be my excuse for the delay.
+  We have not the register of birth which you ask for, but in its
+  place is a paper so important that I have not the right to part
+  with it; still, I shall be ready to place this paper under your eyes
+  when you come to Paris.
+
+                                         "Yours respectfully," etc.
+
+"I go," said Monsieur Dalize, consulting his watch; "I have just time to
+catch the train, and I shall return in time for dinner. Go back to the
+château and tell them that an important letter calls me to Paris."
+
+Monsieur Roger took the hand of his friend with a joy which he could not
+conceal, and said,--
+
+"Thank you."
+
+"I go to please you," answered Monsieur Dalize, not wishing that his
+friend should have hopes excited, for failure might leave him more
+unhappy than ever. "I am going to see this important paper, but I see no
+reason why it should show that Paul was not the son of Monsieur Solange.
+So keep calm; you will need all your calmness on my return."
+
+Before leaving, Monsieur Dalize opened the envelope of the second
+letter; as the first lines caught his eyes, an expression of sorrow and
+surprise came over his face.
+
+"That is very strange and very sad," said he.
+
+"What is it?" asked Roger.
+
+"It is strange that this letter speaks of Monsieur Solange, the father
+of Paul, and it is sad that it also brings me bad news."
+
+"Speak," said Roger, quickly.
+
+"This letter is from my successor in the banking house, and it says that
+Monsieur Solange, of Martinique, has suspended payment."
+
+"Has Monsieur Solange failed?" asked Roger.
+
+"The letter adds that they are awaiting fuller information from the mail
+that should arrive to-day. You see that my presence in Paris is doubly
+necessary. Come down to the station to meet me in the coupé at five
+o'clock, and come alone."
+
+The sudden departure of Monsieur Dalize did not very much astonish the
+people at the Château, but what did astonish them, and become a subject
+of remark for all, was the new expression on the face of Monsieur Roger.
+He seemed extremely moved, but his features showed hope and joy, which
+had chased away his usual sadness. Madame Dalize inquired what had
+happened, and Monsieur Roger told her the whole story.
+
+Monsieur Roger hoped, and he was even happier that day than ever to find
+himself near Paul, because the latter showed himself more affectionate
+than ever. Long before the appointed hour, Monsieur Roger was at the
+station, awaiting with impatience the return of Monsieur Dalize. At last
+the train came in sight, and soon Monsieur Dalize got out of the car.
+
+"Well?" said Roger, with a trembling voice, awaiting the yes or the no
+on which his happiness or his despair depended. Monsieur Dalize, without
+answering, led Roger away from the station; then, when they were in the
+coupé, which started at a brisk pace, Monsieur Dalize threw his arms
+around his friend, with these words:
+
+"Be happy, it is your son!"
+
+Roger's eyes filled with tears, great big tears, which he could not
+restrain, tears of joy succeeding to the many tears of sorrow which he
+had shed. At last he murmured,--
+
+"You have the proofs?"
+
+"I have two proofs, one of which comes in a very sad way."
+
+"What is it?"
+
+"The confession of Monsieur Solange, who wrote to me on his death-bed."
+
+"Unhappy man!"
+
+"Unhappy, yes; but also guilty."
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"Well, read first a copy of the paper which took the place of the
+birth-register of Paul Solange."
+
+Through his tears, Monsieur Roger read as follows:
+
+"This 24th day of December, 1877, before me, Jean-Jacques Solange,
+French Consul of the Island of Saint-Christopher, in the English
+Antilles, appeared Jan Carit, captain of the Danish fishing vessel,
+'Jutland,' and Steffenz and Kield, who declared to him that on the 15th
+of December, 1877, finding themselves near the Island of Eleuthera, in
+the archipelago of the Bahamas, they perceived a raft, from which they
+took a child of the masculine sex, who seemed to be between two and
+three years old. We have given him the name of Pierre Paul. In witness
+whereof, the above-named parties have hereunto set their hands and
+seals."
+
+When he had finished, Roger cried,--
+
+"There is no doubt,--the date, the place, everything is proof."
+
+[Illustration]
+
+"Which would not be sufficient, if I had not this."
+
+And Monsieur Dalize gave to his friend Solange's letter. In this letter
+Monsieur Solange announced his ruin, and his approaching death from
+heart-disease; the doctors had given him up, and he begged Monsieur
+Dalize to tell Paul that he was not his son. Monsieur Solange declared
+that he was the French Consul at the Island of Saint Christopher when
+some Danish fishermen, from the Island of Saint Thomas, brought him the
+child, which they had found in the sea. He and his wife had no children.
+They determined to adopt the child which had been found. Monsieur
+Solange confessed that he had been wanting in his duty in not making the
+necessary search. He excused himself sadly by saying that he was
+convinced of the death of the parents of the child, and he begged for
+pardon, as he had wished to bring this child up and make him happy. In
+finishing, he said that the linen of the child was marked "G. L. M.,"
+and that the boy could pronounce the French words "maman" and "papa."
+
+"I pardon him," said, gravely and solemnly, Monsieur Roger.
+
+The coupé had entered the park, and the two gentlemen alighted before
+the château, where the family awaited them. Monsieur Dalize advanced
+towards him who had hitherto been called Paul Solange, and who really
+was George La Morlière.
+
+"My dear child," said he, "I have news for you,--some very sad news and
+some very happy news."
+
+Anxious, excited, George came forward. Monsieur Dalize continued:
+
+"You have lost him who was your adopted father,--Monsieur Solange."
+
+"Monsieur Solange is dead!" cried George, bowing his head, overwhelmed
+at the news.
+
+"But," Monsieur Dalize hastened to add, "you have found your real
+father."
+
+At these words George raised his head again; his eyes went straight
+towards those of Monsieur Roger. He ran forward and threw himself in the
+arms which were opened to him, repeating, between his tears,--
+
+"My father! my father!"
+
+And Miss Miette, who wept, as all the rest did, at this moving
+spectacle, said, in the midst of her sobs,--
+
+"I knew it; I knew it; I knew it was his papa!"
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's In Search of a Son, by William Shepard Walsh
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