2,000 miles from the
terrestrial sphere; quicker and quicker is the velocity; ten minutes
later, and they are only 36,000 miles apart!

The whole configuration of the earth is clear.

"Europe! Russia! France!" shout Procope, the count, and Servadac, almost
in a breath.

And they are not mistaken. The eastern hemisphere lies before them
in the full blaze of light, and there is no possibility of error in
distinguishing continent from continent.

The surprise only kindled their emotion to yet keener intensity, and it
would be hard to describe the excitement with which they gazed at the
panorama that was before them. The crisis of peril was close at hand,
but imagination overleaped all consideration of danger; and everything
was absorbed in the one idea that they were again within reach of that
circle of humanity from which they had supposed themselves severed
forever.

And, truly, if they could have paused to study it, that panorama of
the states of Europe which was outstretched before their eyes, was
conspicuous for the fantastic resemblances with which Nature on the one
hand, and international relations on the other, have associated them.
There was England, marching like some stately dame towards the east,
trailing her ample skirts and coroneted with the cluster of her little
islets; Sweden and Norway, with their bristling spine of mountains,
seemed like a splendid lion eager to spring down from the bosom of the
ice-bound north; Russia, a gigantic polar bear, stood with its head
towards Asia, its left paw resting upon Turkey, its right upon Mount
Caucasus; Austria resembled a huge cat curled up and sleeping a watchful
sleep; Spain, with Portugal as a pennant, like an unfurled banner,
floated from the extremity of the continent; Turkey, like an insolent
cock, appeared to clutch the shores of Asia with the one claw, and the
land of Greece with the other; Italy, as it were a foot and leg encased
in a tight-fitting boot, was juggling deftly with the islands of Sicily,
Sardinia, and Corsica; Prussia, a formidable hatchet imbedded in the
heart of Germany, its edge just grazing the frontiers of France; whilst
France itself suggested a vigorous torso with Paris at its breast.

All at once Ben Zoof breaks the silence: "Montmartre! I see Montmartre!"
And, smile at the absurdity as others might, nothing could induce the
worthy orderly to surrender his belief that he could actually make out
the features of his beloved home.