Three hundred thousand hearers applauded this proposition. Michel Ardan's adversary wished to speak again, but he could not make himself heard. Cries and threats were hailed upon him.
But he, holding on to the platform, did not move, and let the storm pass by. It might have assumed formidable proportions if Michel Ardan had not appeased it by a gesture. He was too chivalrous to abandon his contradicter in such an extremity.
"You wish to add a few words?" he asked, in the most gracious tone.
"Yes, a hundred! a thousand!" answered the unknown, carried away, "or rather no, one only! To persevere in your enterprise you must be--"
"Imprudent! How can you call me that when I have asked for a cylindro-conical bullet from my friend Barbicane so as not to turn round on the road like a squirrel?"
"But, unfortunate man! the fearful shock will smash you to pieces when you start."
"You have there put your finger upon the real and only difficulty; but I have too good an opinion of the industrial genius of the Americans to believe that they will not overcome that difficulty."
"But the heat developed by the speed of the projectile whilst crossing the beds of air?"
"Oh, its sides are thick, and I shall so soon pass the atmosphere."
"I have calculated that I could carry enough for one year, and I shall only be four days going."
"I shall make some by chemical processes."
"But your fall upon the moon, supposing you ever get there?"
"It will be six times less rapid than a fall upon the earth, as attraction is six times less on the surface of the moon."
"But it still will be sufficient to smash you like glass."
"What will prevent me delaying my fall by means of rockets conveniently placed and lighted at the proper time?"
"But lastly, supposing that all difficulties be solved, all obstacles cleared away by uniting every chance in your favour, admitting that you reach the moon safe and well, how shall you come back?"
Upon this answer, which was almost sublime by reason of its simplicity, the assembly remained silent. But its silence was more eloquent than its cries of enthusiasm would have been. The unknown profited by it to protest one last time.
"You will infallibly kill yourself," he cried, "and your death, which will be only a madman's death, will not even be useful to science."