comes
from my own country. I morally press the hand you refuse me. Make
all precautions, and act as seems best to you. I will wait till
you have done--"

"For what?"

"To talk with you."

The barometer had fallen to twenty-six inches. We were nearly six
hundred yards above the city; but nothing betrayed the horizontal
displacement of the balloon, for the mass of air in which it is
enclosed goes forward with it. A sort of confused glow enveloped
the objects spread out under us, and unfortunately obscured their
outline.

I examined my companion afresh.

He was a man of thirty years, simply clad. The sharpness of his
features betrayed an indomitable energy, and he seemed very
muscular. Indifferent to the astonishment he created, he remained
motionless, trying to distinguish the objects which were vaguely
confused below us.

"Miserable mist!" said he, after a few moments.

I did not reply.

"You owe me a grudge?" he went on. "Bah! I could not pay for my
journey, and it was necessary to take you by surprise."

"Nobody asks you to descend, monsieur!"

"Eh, do you not know, then, that the same thing happened to the
Counts of Laurencin and Dampierre, when they ascended at Lyons,
on the 15th of January, 1784? A young merchant, named Fontaine,
scaled the gallery, at the risk of capsizing the machine. He
accomplished the journey, and nobody died of it!"

"Once on the ground, we will have an explanation," replied I,
piqued at the light tone in which he spoke.

"Bah! Do not let us think of our return."

"Do you think, then, that I shall not hasten to descend?"

"Descend!" said he, in surprise. "Descend? Let us begin by first
ascending."

And before I could prevent it, two more bags had been thrown over
the car, without even having been emptied.

"Monsieur!" cried I, in a rage.

[Illustration: "Monsieur!" cried I, in a rage.]

"I know your ability," replied the unknown quietly, "and your
fine ascents are famous. But if Experience is the sister of
Practice, she is also a cousin of Theory, and I have studied the
aerial art long. It has got into my head!" he added sadly,
falling into a silent reverie.

The balloon, having risen some distance farther, now became
stationary. The unknown consulted the barometer, and said,--

"Here we are, at eight hundred yards. Men are like insects. See!
I think we should always contemplate them from this height, to
judge correctly of their proportions. The Place de la Comedi