21,000 miles an hour."
"Express speed, and no mistake!" muttered Ben Zoof.

"Just so," assented Procope. "Now, the two bodies may impinge either
directly or obliquely. If the impact is sufficiently oblique,

Gallia may do precisely" target="_blank" title="ad.精确地；刻板地">precisely what she did before: she may graze the earth;
she may, or she may not, carry off a portion of the earth's

atmosphere and substance, and so she may float away again into space;
but her orbit would undoubtedly be deranged, and if we survive

the shock, we shall have small chance of ever returning to the world
of our fellow-creatures."

"Professor Rosette, I suppose," Ben Zoof remarked, "would pretty soon
find out all about that."

"But we will leave this hypothesis," said the lieutenant; "our own
experience has sufficiently shown us its advantages and its disadvantages.

We will proceed to consider the infinitely more serious alternative of
direct impact; of a shock that would hurl the comet straight on to the earth,

to which it would become attached."
"A great wart upon her face!" said Ben Zoof, laughing.

The captain held up his finger to his orderly, making him understand
that he should hold his tongue.

"It is, I presume, to be taken for granted," continued Lieutenant Procope,
"that the mass of the earth is comparatively so large that, in the event

of a direct collision, her own motion would not be sensibly retarded,
and that she would carry the comet along with her, as part of herself."

"Very little question of that, I should think," said Servadac.
"Well, then," the lieutenant went on, "what part of this comet

of ours will be the part to come into collision with the earth?
It may be the equator, where we are; it may be at the exactly

opposite point, at our antipodes; or it may be at either pole.
In any case, it seems hard to foreseewhence there is to come

the faintest chance of deliverance."
"Is the case so desperate?" asked Servadac.

"I will tell you why it seems so. If the side of the comet on which we
are resident impinges on the earth, it stands to reason that we must

be crushed to atoms by the violence of the concussion."
"Regular mincemeat!" said Ben Zoof, whom no admonitions could

quite reduce to silence.
"And if," said the lieutenant, after a moment's pause, and the slightest

possible frown at the interruption--"and if the collision should occur
at our antipodes, the sudden check to the velocity of the comet

would be quite equivalent to a shock _in situ_; and, another thing,
we should run the risk of being suffocated, for all our comet's

atmosphere would be assimilated with the terrestrial atmosphere, and we,
supposing we were not dashed to atoms, should be left as it were upon

the summit of an enormous mountain (for such to all intents and purposes
Gallia would be), 450 miles above the level of the surface of the globe,

without a particle of air to breathe."
"But would not our chances of escape be considerably better,"

asked Count Timascheff, "in the event of either of the comet's
poles being the point of contact?"

"Taking the combined velocity into account," answered the lieutenant,
"I confess that I fear the violence of the shock will be too great

to permit our destruction to be averted."
A general silence ensued, which was broken by the lieutenant himself.

"Even if none of these contingencies occur in the way we have contemplated,
I am driven to the suspicion that we shall be burnt alive."

"Burnt alive!" they all exclaimed in a chorus of horror.
"Yes. If the deductions of modern science be true, the speed

of the comet, when suddenly checked, will be transmuted into heat,
and that heat will be so intense that the temperature of the comet

will be raised to some millions of degrees."
No one having anything definite to allege in reply to

Lieutenant Procope's forebodings, they all relapsed into silence.
Presently Ben Zoof asked whether it was not possible for the comet

to fall into the middle of the Atlantic.
Procope shook his head. "Even so, we should only be adding the fate

of drowning to the list of our other perils."
"Then, as I understand," said Captain Servadac,

"in whatever way or in whatever place the concussion occurs,
we must be either crushed, suffocated, roasted, or drowned.

Is that your conclusion, lieutenant?"
"I confess I see no other alternative," answered Procope, calmly.

"But isn't there another thing to be done?" said Ben Zoof.
"What do you mean?" his master asked.

"Why, to get off the comet before the shock comes."
"How could you get off Gallia?"

"That I can't say," replied the orderly.
"I am not sure that that could not be accomplished," said the lieutenant.

All eyes in a moment were riveted upon him, as, with his head
resting on his hands, he was manifestly cogitating a new idea.

"Yes, I think it could be accomplished," he repeated.
"The project may appear extravagant, but I do not know why it

should be impossible. Ben Zoof has hit the right nail on the head;
we must try and leave Gallia before the shock."

"Leave Gallia! How?" said Count Timascheff.
The lieutenant did not at once reply. He continued pondering for a time,

and at last said, slowly and distinctly, "By making a balloon!"
Servadac's heart sank.

"A balloon!" he exclaimed. "Out of the question! Balloons are
exploded things. You hardly find them in novels. Balloon, indeed!"

"Listen to me," replied Procope. "Perhaps I can convince you that my
idea is not so chimerical as you imagine." And, knitting his brow,

he proceeded to establish the feasibility of his plan.
"If we can ascertain the precise moment when the shock is to happen,

and can succeed in launching ourselves a sufficient time
beforehand into Gallia's atmosphere, I believe it will transpire

that this atmosphere will amalgamate with that of the earth,
and that a balloon whirled along by the combined velocity would

glide into the mingled atmosphere and remain suspended in mid-air
until the shock of the collision is overpast."

Count Timascheff reflected for a minute, and said, "I think,
lieutenant, I understand your project. The scheme seems tenable;

and I shall be ready to co-operate with you, to the best of my power,
in putting it into execution."

"Only, remember," continued Procope, "there are many chances to one against
our success. One instant's obstruction and stoppage in our passage, and our

balloon is burnt to ashes. Still, reluctant as I am to acknowledge it,
I confess that I feel our sole hope of safety rests in our getting free

from this comet."
"If the chances were ten thousand to one against us,"

said Servadac, "I think the attempt ought to be made."
"But have we hydrogen enough to inflate a balloon?" asked the count.

"Hot air will be all that we shall require," the lieutenant answered;
"we are only contemplating about an hour's journey."

"Ah, a fire-balloon! A montgolfier!" cried Servadac. "But what are you
going to do for a casing?"

"I have thought of that. We must cut it out of the sails of the _Dobryna_;
they are both light and strong," rejoined the lieutenant.

Count Timascheff complimented the lieutenant upon his ingenuity,
and Ben Zoof could not resist bringing the meeting to a conclusion

by a ringing cheer.
Truly daring was the plan of which Lieutenant Procope had thus

become the originator; but the very existence of them all
was at stake, and the design must be executed resolutely.

For the success of the enterprise it was absolutely necessary to know,
almost to a minute, the precise time at which the collision would occur,

and Captain Servadac undertook the task, by gentle means or by stern,
of extracting the secret from the professor.

To Lieutenant Procope himself was entrusted the superintendence of
the construction of the montgolfier, and the work was begun at once.

It was to be large enough to carry the whole of the twenty-three residents
in the volcano, and, in order to provide the means of floating aloft

long enough to give time for selecting a proper place for descent,
the lieutenant was anxious to make it carry enough hay or straw