"All is ready!" exclaimed I; "attention!"
The men arranged themselves; a last glance informed me that everything was right.
There was some movement in the crowd which seemed to be invading the reserved enclosure.
The balloon slowly ascended; but I experienced a shock which threw me to the bottom of the car. When I rose, I found myself face to face with an unexpected voyager,--the pale young man.
"Am I here? By the right of your inability to turn me out."
I was confounded. His assurance disconcerted me; and I had nothing to say in reply. I looked at him, but he paid no regard to my astonishment. He continued:
"My weight will disturb your equilibrium, Monsieur: will you permit me--"
And without waiting for my assent, he lightened the balloon by two bags of sand which he emptied into the air.
"Monsieur," said I, taking the only possible course, "you are here,--well! you choose to remain,--well! but to me alone belongs the management of the aerostat."
"Monsieur," replied he, "your urbanity is entirely French; it is of the same country with myself! I press in imagination the hand which you refuse me. Take your measures,--act as it may seem good to you; I will wait till you have ended--"
The barometer had fallen to twenty-six inches; we had attained a height of about six hundred metres, and were over the city; which satisfied me of our complete quiescence, for I could not judge by our motionless flags. Nothing betrays the horizontal voyage of a balloon; it is the mass of air surrounding it which moves. A kind of wavering heat bathed the objects extended at our feet, and gave their outlines an indistinctness to be regretted. The needle of the compass indicated a slight tendency to float towards the south.
I looked again at my companion. He was a man of thirty, simply clad; the bold outlines of his features betokened indomitable energy; he appeared very muscular. Absorbed in the emotion of this silent suspension, he remained immovable, seeking to distinguish the objects which passed beneath his view.
"Vexatious mist!" said he, at the expiration of a few moments.
"What would you? I could not pay for my voyage; I was obliged to take you by surprise."
"A similar occurrence," he resumed, "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 railing, at the risk of upsetting the equipage. He accomplished the voyage, and nobody was killed!"