ad disappeared for weeks; was she now returning? Had
she been faithless to the earth? and had she now approached to be a
satellite of the new-born world?

"Impossible!" said Lieutenant Procope; "the earth is millions and
millions of leagues away, and it is not probable that the moon has
ceased to revolve about her."

"Why not?" remonstrated Servadac. "It would not be more strange than the
other phenomena which we have lately witnessed. Why should not the moon
have fallen within the limits of Gallia's attraction, and become her
satellite?"

"Upon that supposition," put in the count, "I should think that it would
be altogether unlikely that three months would elapse without our seeing
her."

"Quite incredible!" continued Procope. "And there is another thing which
totally disproves the captain's hypothesis; the magnitude of Gallia
is far too insignificant for her power of attraction to carry off the
moon."

"But," persisted Servadac, "why should not the same convulsion that tore
us away from the earth have torn away the moon as well? After wandering
about as she would for a while in the solar regions, I do not see why
she should not have attached herself to us."

The lieutenant repeated his conviction that it was not likely.

"But why not?" again asked Servadac impetuously.

"Because, I tell you, the mass of Gallia is so inferior to that of the
moon, that Gallia would become the moon's satellite; the moon could not
possibly become hers."

"Assuming, however," continued Servadac, "such to be the case--"

"I am afraid," said the lieutenant, interrupting him, "that I cannot
assume anything of the sort even for a moment."

Servadac smiled good-humoredly.

"I confess you seem to have the best of the argument, and if Gallia had
become a satellite of the moon, it would not have taken three months to
catch sight of her. I suppose you are right."

While this discussion had been going on, the satellite, or whatever it
might be, had been rising steadily above the horizon, and had reached a
position favorable for observation. Telescopes were brought, and it was
very soon ascertained, beyond a question, that the new luminary was not
the well-known Phoebe of terrestrial nights; it had no feature in common
with the moon. Although it was apparently much nearer to Gallia than the
moon to the earth, its superficies was hardly one-tenth as large, and
so feebly did it reflect the light of the remote sun, that it scarcely
emit