CHAPTER XV created at 11/10/2007 5:51:50 PM EST

Note: Interjections, not tranlatable, are retained in French in italics!

[…] as in book current version

{…} as in original magazin version

Red points of difficulty in translation

Green corrections in translation

WHEREIN THE STORY IS RECITED OF THE FIRST AND LAST RELATIONS ESTABLISHED BETWEEN PALMYRIN ROSETTE AND ISAC HAKHABUT

The month of September arrived. It was still impossible to abandon the dark but warm retreat of the Gallien subsoil to return to the residence of Nina-Hive. The bees certainly would have been frozen in their old cells.

Fortunately and unfortunately at the same time, the volcano did not threaten to resume its activity.

Fortunately, because a sudden eruption could have surprised the Galliens in the central chimney, the only conduit reserved for the passage of lava.

Unfortunately, because the existence, relatively easy and comfortable in the heights of Nina-Hive, would have been resumed immediately, to the general satisfaction.

"Seven villainous months we passed there, my Captain!" said Ben-Zouf one day. "Did you observe our Nina during all this time?"

"Yes, Ben-Zouf, said Captain Servadac. She is a small, quite exceptional being! One might say that all the life of Gallia was focused in her heart!"

"Well, my captain, and then afterwards? ..."

"Afterwards?"

"Yes, when we shall have returned to the earth, we can not abandon this dear child!"

"Mordioux! Ben-Zouf we will adopt her!"

"Bravo, Captain! You will be his father, and if you want, I will be his mother!"

"So we are married, Ben-Zouf."

"Ah! My Captain, " replied the honest soldier, "for a long time we are!"

From the first days of October, the cold was almost bearable, even during the night, in the absence of any atmospheric disturbance. The distance from Gallia to the sun was triple the distance which separates the earth from its gravitational center. The temperature stood at an average of thirty to thirty-five degrees below zero. More frequent ascents were made to Nina-Hive, and even outside. The colonists ventured with impunity onto the shore. The skating was resumed on this wonderful ice that the sea gave to the skaters. It was a joy for the prisoners to leave their jail. Every day also, Count Timascheff, Captain Servadac, and Lieutenant Procope came together to recognize the state of things and discuss the "great question of the earth-landing." It was not only to approach the terrestial sphere, it was, if possible, to avert any of the eventualities of the impact.

One of the most assiduous visitors to the former home of Nina-Hive was Palmyrin Rosette. He had lifted his telescope up again into his observatory, and there, as long as the cold weather permitted, he returned to his astronomical observations.

What was the result of these new calculations, no one asked him. He certainly would not have responded. But after a few days, his companions noticed that he appeared to be somewhat dissatisfied. He mounted, descended, remounted, re-descended the oblique tunnel of the central chimney. He kept muttering, grumbling. He was more inaccessible than ever. One or twice, Ben-Zouf -- a brave man, as one knows --, deeply bewitched by these symptoms of disappointment, accosted the terrible professor. As to how he was received, that can not be told .

"It appears ", he thought, "that things are not going on up there as he would like. "But, triple name of a Bedouin, provided that he does not disturb the celestial mechanics, and us with it!"

However, Captain Servadac, Count Timascheff, and Lieutenant Procope were quite entitled to wonder what could be annoying Palmyrin Rosette at this point. Had the professor thus re-examined his calculations, and were they in dissension with the new observations? In a word, did the comet not occupy in its orbit the place assigned to it by the previously established ephemerides , and, consequently, was it not to meet the Earth at the point and the second indicated?

That was always their greatest apprehension, and, having only the assertions Palmyrin Rosette on which to base their expectations, they had reason to be afraid at the sight of him being so upset.

In fact, the professor became gradually the most unhappy of astronomers. Obviously, his calculations were not agreeing with his observations, and a man such as he could not suffer a sharper disappointment. In sum, every time that he re-descended to his cabinet, three-quarters frozen by a too long a stay at the end of his telescope, he experienced a true attack of fury.

If it would have been possible for a fellow being to approach him at this moment, here is what he would have heard him repeating to himself:

"Malediction! What does this mean? What is it doing up there? It is not in the place that my calculations give it! The miserable thing! It is too slow! Or Newton is a mad, or it is crazy! All of this is contrary to the law of universal gravitation! Quel diable! I could not deceive myself! My observations are correct, my calculations too! Ah! rascal of Satan !"

And Palmyrin Rosette held his head with both hands, and tore at his hair, which did not abound on his occiput [Footnote 1: occiput: back of the head –OED]. And always, always the same result: a constant and unexplainable disagreement between calculation and observation.

"Let's see," he said, "is there a disruption in celestial mechanics? No, it is not possible! It is I who am wrong! And yet... however..."

Really, Palmyrin Rosette would have lost weight with the pain, if it would have been possible for him to lose weight.

Finally, if he was disappointed, everyone around him was anxious, but that did not bother him in the least.

However, this state of affairs was to have an end.

One day, October 12, Ben-Zouf, who was prowling around the great hall of Nina-Hive in which the professor was at this moment, heard a resounding cry.

Ben-Zouf ran to him.

"You have hurt yourself, perhaps? " He asked in a tone that he would have said:

"How do you do?"

"Eureka! I say you, eureka! " Palmyrin Rosette answered, tripping like a fool.

There was in his outburst at the same time both joy and rage.

"Eureka?" repeated Ben-Zouf.

"Yes, eureka! You know what that means?"

"No."

"Well then, go to the devil!"

"Fortunately," the orderly thought, "that when he does not want to answer, Mr. Rosette is very polite!"

And he left, not for the devil, but to find Hector Servadac.

"My captain," he said, "there is some news."

"What is it?"

"The savant, well! He has ‘eureka-ed’."

"He has found!..."cried Captain Servadac. "But what has he found?"

"That I do not know."

"Eh! that is what it would precisely be necessary to know!"

And Captain Servadac was more anxious than he had ever been.

Meanwhile, Palmyrin Rosette went down again towards his study and repeated to himself:

"Yes, this is it... it can not be otherwise!... Ah! the miserable wretch!... If he is, he will pay dearly!... But will he want to confess? Never!... He should disgorge the truth !... Eh well! I will trick him... and we will see!"

There was nothing to understand, but one thing that was clear: since that day, Palmyrin Rosette changed his way of acting towards [master]/{the Jew} Isac Hakhabut. Previously, he had always avoided or abused him. Henceforth he acted very differently towards him.

Who ought to be surprised? It was certainly [master Isac]/{Isac Hakhabut}, little accustomed to such advances. He saw the professor frequently descend to his dark shop. Palmyrin Rosette was interested in him, in his person, in his business. He asked him if he had sold his goods profitably, what benefit resulted from it for his chest, if he had been able to benefit from a circumstance which would perhaps never be repeated, etc, etc, and all that with the intention, which he dissimulated with great difficulty, to strangle him completely off.

Isac Hakhabut, suspicious as an old fox, only answered extremely evasively. This sudden modification in the manners of the professor in his respect did make him amazed. He was wondering whether Palmyrin Rosette did not think of borrowing money from him.

However, it is known, Isac Hakhabut, on principle, did not refuse to lend money, at a perfectly usurious rate besides. He even counted on this kind of operation to increase his wealth. But he wanted to lend only on solid signature, and -- it should well be acknowledged -- he saw only Count Timascheff, a rich Russian lord, with whom he could risk his goods. Captain Servadac was to be a beggar like a Gascon! As for the professor, who would ever have the idea of lending money to a professor! Therefore, master Isac held it tightly.

In addition, [the Jew]/{he} was going to be required to make an employment of his money as restricted as possible, but one on which he had not counted.

In fact, at that time, he had sold to the Galliens almost all the food items that made up his cargo. He had not had the wisdom of reserving certain products for his particular consumption. Among other things, he had run short of coffee. And coffee, however sparingly used, "when there is no more, there is no more," as Ben-Zouf said.

Therefore it happened that master Isac was deprived of a drink which he could not do without, and he was forced to resort to the reserves of the general store.

Therefore, after long hesitation, he said to himself that, after all, the reserve was a communal one for all Galliens without distinction, that he had the same rights as any other, and he went to find Ben-Zouf.

"Mr. Ben-Zouf, he said in his most amiable tone, I would have a small request to make of you."

"Speak, Gobseck[Footnote 1: Gobseck: main character, an ursurer, in a book of the same name by Balzac--NMW]," replied Ben-Zouf.

"I need to take a pound of coffee from the reserve for my personal use."

"One pound of coffee! Replied Ben-Zouf. How! You ask a pound of coffee?"

"Yes, Mr. Ben-Zouf."

"Oh! Oh! Now that is serious!"

"Is there no more?"

"Yes, a hundred kilos left."

"Well?"

"Well, old man, replied Ben-Zouf, shaking his head in a troubling way, "I do not know if I can give you that!"

"Give, Mr. Ben-Zouf," said Isac Hakhabut "give, and my heart will be delighted!"

"The celebration of your heart is totally indifferent to me!"

"But then, you would not refuse, if it were another than me ..."

"Ah! Enough is enough! It is that you are not another, you!"

"Well, Mr. Ben-Zouf?

"Well, I will refer the matter to His Excellency the Governor-General."

"Oh! Mr. Ben-Zouf, I have no doubt that in his justice ..."

"On the contrary, old man, it is his justice which makes me fear for you!"

And the orderly left Isac Hakhabut with this really disconsolate thought.

Just then, Palmyrin Rosette, always on the watch, had arrived while these words were being exchanged between Ben-Zouf and [Isac]/{the Jew}. The occasion appeared good for him to try an experiment, and therefore he broached the subject. got down to business.

"Oh, master Isac, he said, you need coffee?"

"Yes ... professor," said Isac Hakhabut.

"So you sold it all?"

"Alas! I made this mistake!"

"Diable! Coffee is necessary for you! Yes!... yes! ... It warms the blood!"

"No doubt ... and in this black hole, I can not do without it ! ..."

"Well, master Isac , we will give you a quantity sufficient for your consumption."

"Isn't it so?, sir Professor... although I have sold this coffee, I have a right just as any other to take some for my own use!"

"Certainly... master Isac certainly! ... And will you be needing a great quantity?"

"A pound only!... I use it so sparingly... That will last me a long time!"

"And how will you weigh this coffee?" asked Palmyrin Rosette, who, in spite of himself, slightly accentuated this sentence.

"With my steel-yard! ... " murmured the Jew.

And Palmyrin Rosette believed he heard a surprising sigh venting from the chest of [master Isac]/{the Jew}.

"Yes..." he replied… "with the steel-yard! There is no other balance here?..."

"No!.." [Isac]/{the Jew} answered, perhaps regretting his sigh.

"Eh! Eh! [Master Isac]/! ... This will be an advantage! For a pound of coffee, we will be giving you seven!"

"Yes ... seven! That is good!"

The professor looked at [his man]/{the Jew}, he stared at him. He wanted to ask him a question... He did not dare, thinking, with reason, that [Isac]/{the Jew} would not tell him the truth, which he wanted to know at all costs. However, not being able to contain his impatience, he was going to speak, when Ben-Zouf returned.

"Eh well?" asked Isac Hakhabut emphatically.

"Eh well, the Governor does not want ..." answered Ben-Zouf.

"He does not want to give me that coffee!" [Isac]/{the Jew} cried.

"No, but he would like to sell you some."

"To sell some to me, [mein Gott]/{God of Israel}!"

"Yes, and that's fair, since you have acquired all the money in the colony. Come, let us see the color of your pistoles!"

"To force me to buy when another ..."

"I already said you that you were not another! Do you buy, yes or no?"

"Mercy!"

"Answer, or I close the shop!"

[Isac]/{the Jew} knew well that he should not joke with Ben-Zouf.

"Let us go... I will buy," he said.

"Good."

"But at what price?"

"The price at which you sold. You will not be skinned! Your skin is not worth the trouble! "

Isac Hakhabut had put his hand in his pocket and fumbled with a few pieces of silver. The professor was increasingly attentive and seemed to watch for the words from the mouth of [Isac]/{the Jew}.

"How much," he said, "will you make me pay for a pound of coffee?"

"Ten francs," answered Ben-Zouf. "It is the current price in "Hot-Land". But what can this matter to you , since after our return to the earth, gold will no longer have value."

"Gold no longer have value!" [Isac]/{the Jew} said. Can this happen, Mr. Ben-Zouf?"

"You will see."

"The Eternal should help me! Ten francs, a pound of coffee."

"Ten francs. Finished?"

Isac Hakhabut drew a gold coin then, looking at it in the light of the lamp, he kissed it almost to the end of his lips.

"And you will weigh with my steel-yard?" he asked in a tone so plaintive that it was suspicious.

"And with what do you want me to weigh? " replied Ben-Zouf.

Then, taking the steel-yard, he suspended a plate from its hook and poured what was necessary of the coffee so that the needle marked a pound, --[it would be seven in reality]/.

Isac Hakhabut followed the operation with his eyes.

"Voila!" said Ben-Zouf.

"The needle has gone right to the point?" the [merchant]/{Jew} asked, bending over the circle graduated on the instrument.

Yes—there, old Jonas!"

"Push it a little with your finger, Mr. Ben-Zouf!"

"And why is that?"

"Because ... because ... " whispered Isac Hakhabut, "because my steel-yard may not ... quite ... accurate! ..."

These words were barely completed, when Palmyrin Rosette jumped at the throat of Isac. He shook him, he strangled him.

"Scoundrel!" he cried.

"Help! Me!" responded Isac Hakhabut.

The fight continued. It is true that Ben-Zouf took care not to intervene. On the contrary, he excited the combatants, he burst of laughing. For him, in truth, one was not better than other.

But at the noise of the battle, Captain Servadac, Count Timascheff, and Lieutenant Procope came to see what was happening.

[Isac]/{the Jew} and the professor were separated.

"But what is happening?" asked Hector Servadac.

"What happened," answered Palmyrin Rosette, "is that this rogue gave us a false steel-yard, a steel-yard which shows a weight higher than the actual weight!"

"Is this true, Isac?"

"Mr. governor ... yes ... no!" [he]/{the Jew} answered ... "... yes! ..."

‘This robber sold with false weights," repeated the professor with increasing fury, "and when I have weighed my comet with his instrument, I have obtained a weight higher with that which it really has."

"Is that true?"

"Really ... I do not know! ..." mumbled Isac Hakhabut.

"Finally when I have taken this false mass for the basis for my new calculations, they have been at odds with my observations, and I had to believe that it was no longer in its place!"

"But which ... it? Gallia? "

"No! Nérina, pardieu! Our moon!"

"But Gallia? ..."

"Eh! Gallia is always where it ought to be!" replied Palmyrin Rosette. It is going straight to the earth, and us with it! ... And also this accursed [Isac]/{Jew}! ... May God confound him!"

Chapter XVI

In which the master Servadac and Ben-Zouf leave and return as they had left