There was a silence. Then Monsieur Dalize, wishing to create a diversion, asked,—
"How does it happen that you did not announce to me beforehand your return. It was not until I received your telegram this morning that we learned this news which made us so happy. I had no reason to expect that your arrival would be so sudden. Did you not say that you were to remain another six months, and perhaps a year, in Texas?"
"Yes; and I did then think that I should be forced to prolong my stay for some months. My contract was ended, my work was done. I was free, but the mining-company wished to retain me. They wanted me to sign a new contract, and to this end they invented all sorts of pretexts to keep me where I was. As I did not wish to go to law against the people through whom I had made my fortune, I determined to wait, hoping that my patience would tire them out; and that, in fact, is what happened. The company bowed before my decision. This good news reached me on the eve of the departure of a steamer. I did not hesitate for a moment; I at once took ship. I might indeed have given you notice on the way, but I wished to reserve to myself the happiness of surprising you. It was not until I reached Paris that I decided to send you a despatch; and even then I did not have the strength to await your reply."
"Dear Roger!" said Monsieur Dalize. "And then your process, your discovery, succeeded entirely?"
"Yes, I have made a fortune,—a large fortune. I have told you that the enterprise was at my risk, but that the company would give me ten per cent. on all the ore that I would succeed in saving. Now, the mines of Texas used to produce four million dollars' worth a year. Thanks to my process, they produce nearly a million more. In ten years you can well see what was my portion."
"Splendid!" said Monsieur Dalize; "it represents a sum of——"
Madame Dalize interrupted her husband.
"Miette," said she, "cannot you do that little sum for us, my child?"
Miette wiped her eyes and ceased crying. Her mother's desire had been reached. The little girl took a pencil, and, after making her mother repeat the question to her, put down some figures upon a sheet of paper. After a moment she said, not without hesitation, for the sum appeared to her enormous,—
"Why! it is a million dollars that Monsieur Roger has made!"
"Exactly," said Monsieur Roger; "and, my dear child, you have, without knowing it, calculated pretty closely the fortune which you will receive from me as your wedding portion."
Monsieur and Madame Dalize looked up with astonishment. Miette gazed at Monsieur Roger without understanding.
"My dear friends," said Roger, turning to Monsieur and Madame Dalize, "you will not refuse me the pleasure of giving my fortune to Miss Miette. I have no one else in the world; and does not Mariette represent both of you? Where would my money be better placed?"
And turning towards Miss Miette, he said to her,—
"Yes, my child, that million will be yours on your marriage."
Miette looked from her mother to her father, not knowing whether she ought to accept, and seriously embarrassed. With a sweet smile, Monsieur Roger added,—
"And so, you see, you will be able to choose a husband that you like."
Then, quietly and without hesitation, Miss Miette said,—
"It will be Paul Solange."
CHAPTER VII.
VACATION.
Monsieur and Madame Dalize could not help smiling in listening to this frank declaration of their daughter: "It will be Paul Solange."
Monsieur Roger smiled in his turn, and said,—
"What! has Miss Miette already made her choice?"
"It is an amusing bit of childishness," answered Madame Dalize, "as you see. But, really, Miss Miette, although she teases him often, has a very kindly feeling for our friend Paul Solange."
"And who is this happy little mortal?" asked Monsieur Roger.
"A friend of Albert's," said Monsieur Dalize.
"Albert, your son?" said Monsieur Roger, to whom this name and this word were always painful. Then he added,—
"I should like very much to see him, your son."
"You shall soon see him, my dear Roger," answered Monsieur Dalize. "Vacation begins to-morrow morning, and to-morrow evening Albert will be at Sainte-Gemme."
"With Paul?" asked Miss Miette.
"Why, certainly," said Madame Dalize, laughing; "with your friend Paul Solange."
Monsieur Roger asked,—
"How old is Albert at present?"
"In his thirteenth year," said Monsieur Dalize.
Monsieur Roger remained silent. He was thinking that his little George, if he had lived, would also be big now, and, like the son of Monsieur Dalize, would be in his thirteenth year.
Next day the horses were harnessed, and all four went down to the station to meet the five-o'clock train. When Albert and Paul jumped out from the train, and had kissed Monsieur and Madame Dalize and Miss Miette, they looked with some surprise at Monsieur Roger, whom they did not know.
"Albert," said Monsieur Dalize, showing Monsieur Roger to his son, "why don't you salute our friend Roger?"
"Is this Monsieur Roger?" cried Albert, and the tone of his voice showed that his father had taught him to know and to love the man who now, with his eyes full of tears, was pressing him to his heart.
"And you too, Paul, don't you want to embrace our friend?" said Monsieur Dalize.
"Yes, sir," answered Paul Solange, with a sad and respectful gravity, which struck Monsieur Roger and at once called up his affection.
On the way, Monsieur Roger, who was looking with emotion upon the two young people, but whose eyes were particularly fixed upon Paul, said, in a low voice, to Monsieur Dalize,—
"They are charming children."
"And it is especially Paul whom you think charming; acknowledge it," answered Monsieur Dalize, in the same tone.
"Why should Paul please me more than Albert?" asked Monsieur Roger.
"Ah, my poor friend," replied Monsieur Dalize, "because the father of Albert is here and the father of Paul is far away."
Monsieur Dalize was right. Monsieur Roger, without wishing it, had felt his sympathies attracted more strongly to this child, who was, for the time being, fatherless. He bent over to Monsieur Dalize, and asked,—
"Where is Paul's father?"
"In Martinique, where he does a big business in sugar-cane and coffee. Monsieur Solange was born in France, and he decided that his son should come here to study."
"I can understand that," replied Monsieur Roger; "but what a sorrow this exile must cause the mother of this child!"
"Paul has no mother: she died several years ago."
"Poor boy!" murmured Monsieur Roger, and his growing friendship became all the stronger.
That evening, after dinner, when coffee was being served, Miss Miette, who was in a very good humor, was seized with the desire to tease her little friend Paul.
"Say, Paul," she asked, from one end of the table to the other, "how many prizes did you take this year?"
Paul, knowing that an attack was coming, began to smile, and answered, good-naturedly,—
"You know very well, you naughty girl. You have already asked me, and I have told you."
"Ah, that is true," said Miette, with affected disdain: "you took one prize,—one poor little prize,—bah!"
Then, after a moment, she continued,—
"That is not like my brother: he took several prizes, he did,—a prize for Latin, a prize for history, a prize for mathematics, a prize for physical science, and a prize for chemistry. Well, well! and you,—you only took one prize; and that is the same one you took last year!"
"Yes," said Paul, without minding his friend's teasing; "but last year I took only the second prize, and this year I took the first."
"You have made some progress," said Miss Miette, sententiously.
Monsieur Roger had been interested in the dialogue.
"May I ask what prize Master Paul Solange has obtained?"
"A poor little first prize for drawing only," answered Miette.
"Ah, you love drawing?" said Monsieur Roger, looking at Paul.
But it was Miette who answered: "He loves nothing else."
Monsieur Dalize now, in his turn, took up the conversation, and said,—
"The truth is that our friend Paul has a passion for drawing. History and Latin please him a little, but for chemistry and the physical sciences he has no taste at all."
Monsieur Roger smiled.
"You are wrong," replied Monsieur Dalize, "to excuse by your smile Paul's indifference to the sciences.—And as to you, Paul, you would do well to take as your example Monsieur Roger, who would not have his fortune if he had not known chemistry and the physical sciences. In our day the sciences are indispensable."
Miss Miette, who had shoved herself a little away from the table, pouting slightly, heard these words, and came to the defence of the one whom she had begun by attacking. She opened a book full of pictures, and advanced with it to her father.
"Now, papa," she said, with a look of malice in her eyes, "did the gentleman who made that drawing have to know anything about chemistry or the physical sciences?"
CHAPTER VIII.
A DRAWING LESSON.
For a moment Monsieur Dalize was disconcerted, and knew not what to say in answer. Happily, Monsieur Roger came to his aid. He took the book from Miette's hands, looked at the engraving, and said, quietly,—
"Why, certainly, my dear young friend, the gentleman who made that drawing ought to know something about chemistry and physical science."
"How so?" said Miette, astonished.
"Why, if he did not know the laws of physical science and of chemistry, he has, none the less, and perhaps even without knowing it himself, availed himself of the results of chemistry and physical science."
Miette took the book back again, looked at the drawing with care, and said,—
"Still, there are not in this drawing instruments or apparatus, or machines such as I have seen in my brother's books."
"But," answered Monsieur Roger, smiling, "it is not necessary that you should see instruments and apparatus and machines, as you say, to be in the presence of physical phenomena; and I assure you, my dear child, that this drawing which is under our eyes is connected with chemistry and physical science."
Miette now looked up at Monsieur Roger to see if he was not making fun of her. Monsieur Roger translated this dumb interrogation, and said,—
"Come, now! what does this drawing represent? Tell me yourself."
"Why, it represents two peasants,—a man and a woman,—who have returned home wet in the storm, and who are warming and drying themselves before the fire."
"It is, in fact, exactly that."
"Very well, sir?" asked Miette.
And in this concise answer she meant to say, "In all that, what do you see that is connected with chemistry or physical science?"
"Very well," continued Monsieur Roger; "do you see this light mist, this vapor, which is rising from the cloak that the peasant is drying before the fire?"
"Yes."
"Well, that is physical science," said Monsieur Roger.
"How do you mean?" asked Miette.
"I will explain in a moment. Let us continue to examine the picture. Do you see that a portion of the wood is reduced to ashes?"
"Yes."
"Do you also remark the flame and the smoke which are rising up the chimney?"
"Yes."
"That is chemistry."
"Ah!" said Miss Miette, at a loss for words.
Every one was listening to Monsieur Roger, some of them interested, the others amused. Miette glanced over at her friend Paul.
"What do you think of that?" she asked.
Paul did not care to reply. Albert wished to speak, but he stopped at a gesture from his father. Monsieur Dalize knew that the real interest of this scene lay with Monsieur Roger, the scientist, who was already loved by all this little world. Miette, as nobody else answered, returned to Monsieur Roger.
"But why," she asked, "is that physical science? Why is it chemistry?"
"Because it is physical science and chemistry," said Monsieur Roger, simply.
"Oh, but you have other reasons to give us!" said Madame Dalize, who understood what Monsieur Roger was thinking of.
"Yes," added Miette.
And even Paul, with unusual curiosity, nodded his head affirmatively.
"The reasons will be very long to explain, and would bore you," said Monsieur Dalize, certain that he would in this way provoke a protest.
The protest, in fact, came.
Monsieur Roger was obliged to speak.
"Well," said he, still addressing himself to Miss Miette, "this drawing is concerned with physical science, because the peasant, in placing his cloak before the heat of the fire, causes the phenomenon of evaporation to take place. The vapor which escapes from the damp cloth is water, is nothing but water, and will always be water under a different form. It is water modified, and modified for a moment, because this vapor, coming against the cold wall or other cold objects, will condense. That is to say, it will become again liquid water,—water similar to that which it was a moment ago; and that is a physical phenomenon,—for physical science aims to study the modifications which alter the form, the color, the appearance of bodies, but only their temporary modifications, which leave intact all the properties of bodies. Our drawing is concerned with chemistry, because the piece of wood which burns disappears, leaving in its place cinders in the hearth and gases which escape through the chimney. Here there is a complete modification, an absolute change of the piece of wood. Do what you will, you would be unable, by collecting together the cinders and gases, to put together again the log of wood which has been burned; and that is a chemical phenomenon,—for the aim of chemistry is to study the durable and permanent modifications, after which bodies retain none of their original properties. Another example may make more easy this distinction between physical science and chemistry. Suppose that you put into the fire a bar of iron. That bar will expand and become red. Its color, its form, its dimensions will be modified, but it will always remain a bar of iron. That is a physical phenomenon. Instead of this bar of iron, put in the fire a bit of sulphur. It will flame up and burn in disengaging a gas of a peculiar odor, which is called sulphuric acid. This sulphuric-acid gas can be condensed and become a liquid, but it no longer contains the properties of sulphur. It is no longer a piece of sulphur, and can never again become a piece of sulphur. The modification of this body is therefore durable, and therefore permanent. Now, that is a chemical phenomenon."
Monsieur Roger stopped for a moment; then, paying no apparent attention to Paul, who, however, was listening far more attentively than one could imagine he would, he looked at Miette, and said,—
"I don't know, my child, if I have explained myself clearly enough; but you must certainly understand that in their case the artist has represented, whether he wished to or not, the physical phenomenon and the chemical phenomenon."
"Yes, sir," answered Miette, "I have understood quite well."
"Well," said Monsieur Dalize, "since you are so good a teacher, don't you think that you could, during vacation, cause a little chemistry and a little physical science to enter into that little head?" And he pointed to Paul Solange.
The latter, notwithstanding the sentiment of respectful sympathy which he felt for Monsieur Roger, and although he had listened with interest to his explanations, could not prevent a gesture of fear, so pronounced that everybody began to laugh.
Miette, who wished to console her good friend Paul and obtain his pardon for her teasing, came up to him, and said,—
"Come, console yourself, Paul; I will let you take my portrait a dozen times, as you did last year,—although it is very tiresome to pose for a portrait."
CHAPTER IX.
THE TOWER OF HEURTEBIZE.
Next morning at six o'clock Paul Solange opened the door of the château and stepped out on to the lawn. He held a sketch-book in his hand. He directed his steps along a narrow pathway, shaded by young elms, towards one of the gates of the park. At a turning in the alley he found himself face to face with Monsieur Roger, who was walking slowly and thoughtfully. Paul stopped, and in his surprise could not help saying,—
"Monsieur Roger, already up?"
Monsieur answered, smiling,—
"But you also, Master Paul, you are, like me, already up. Are you displeased to meet me?"
"Oh, no, sir," Paul hastened to say, blushing a little. "Why should I be displeased at meeting you?"
"Then, may I ask you where you are going so early in the morning?"
"Over there," said Paul, stretching his hand towards a high wooded hill: "over there to Heurtebize."
"And what are you going to do over there?"
Paul answered by showing his sketch-book.
"Ah, you are going to draw?"
"Yes, sir; I am going to draw, to take a sketch of the tower; that old tower which you see on the right side of the hill."
"Well, Master Paul, will you be so kind," asked Monsieur Roger, "as to allow me to go with you and explore this old tower?"
Paul, on hearing this proposal, which he could not refuse, made an involuntary movement of dismay, exactly similar to that he had made the night before.
"Oh, fear nothing," said Monsieur Roger, good-naturedly. "I will not bore you either with physical science nor chemistry. I hope you will accept me, therefore, as your companion on the way, without any apprehensions of that kind of annoyance."
"Then, let us go, sir," answered Paul, a little ashamed to have had his thoughts so easily guessed.
They took a short cut across the fields, passing wide expanses of blossoming clover; they crossed a road, they skirted fields of wheat and of potatoes. At last they arrived upon the wooded hill of Heurtebize, at the foot of the old tower, which still proudly raised its head above the valleys.
"What a lovely landscape!" said Monsieur Roger, when he had got his breath.
"The view is beautiful," said Paul, softly; "but it is nothing like the view you get up above there."
"Up above?" said Monsieur Roger, without understanding.
"Yes, from the summit of the tower."
"You have climbed up the tower?"
"Several times."
"But it is falling into ruins, this poor tower; it has only one fault, that of having existed for two or three hundred years."
"It is indeed very old," answered Paul; "it is the last vestige of the old château of Sainte-Gemme, which, it is said, was built in the sixteenth century, or possibly even a century or two earlier; nobody is quite certain as to the date; at all events, the former proprietors several years ago determined to preserve it, and they even commenced some repairs upon it. The interior stairway has been put in part into sufficiently good condition to enable you to use it, if you at the same time call a little bit of gymnastics to your aid, as you will have to do at a few places. And I have used it in this way very often; but please now be good enough to——"
Paul stopped, hesitating.
"Good enough to what? Tell me."
Then Paul Solange added,—
"To say nothing of this to Madame Dalize. That would make her uneasy."
"Not only will I say nothing, my dear young friend, but I will join you in the ascent,—for I have the greatest desire to do what you are going to do, and to ascend the tower with you."
Paul looked at Monsieur Roger, and said, quickly,—
"But, sir, there is danger."
"Bah! as there is none for you, why should there be danger for me?"
Somewhat embarrassed, Paul replied,—
"I am young, sir; more active than you, perhaps, and——"
"If that is your only reason, my friend, do not disturb yourself. Let us try the ascent."
"On one condition, sir."
"What is that?"
"That I go up first."
"Yes, my dear friend, I consent. You shall go first," said Monsieur Roger, who would have himself suggested this if the idea had not come to Paul.
Both of them, Monsieur Roger and Paul, had at this moment the same idea of self-sacrifice. Paul said to himself, "If any accident happens, it will happen to me, and not to Monsieur Roger." And Monsieur Roger, sure of his own strength, thought, "If Paul should happen to fall, very likely I may be able to catch him and save him."
Luckily, the ascent, though somewhat difficult, was accomplished victoriously, and Monsieur Roger was enabled to recognize that the modified admiration which Paul Solange felt for the landscape, as seen from below, was entirely justified.
Paul asked,—
"How high is this tower? A hundred feet?"
"Less than that, I think," answered Monsieur Roger. "Still, it will be easy to find out exactly in a moment."
"In a moment?" asked Paul.
"Yes, in a moment."
"Without descending?"
"No; we will remain where we are."
Paul made a gesture which clearly indicated, "I would like to see that."
Monsieur Roger understood.
"There is no lack of pieces of stone in this tower; take one," said he to Paul.
Paul obeyed.
"You will let this stone fall to the earth at the very moment that I tell you to do so."
Monsieur Roger drew out his watch and looked carefully at the second-hand.
"Now, let go," he said.
Paul opened his hand; the stone fell. It could be heard striking the soil at the foot of the tower. Monsieur Roger, who during the fall of the stone had had his eyes fixed upon his watch, said,—
"The tower is not very high." Then he added, after a moment of reflection, "The tower is sixty-two and a half feet in height."
Paul looked at Monsieur Roger, thinking that he was laughing at him. Monsieur Roger lifted his eyes to Paul; he looked quite serious. Then Paul said, softly,—
"The tower is sixty feet high?"
"Sixty-two and a half feet,—for the odd two and a half feet must not be forgotten in our computation."
Paul was silent. Then, seeing that Monsieur Roger was ready to smile, and mistaking the cause of this smile, he said,—
"You are joking, are you not? You cannot know that the tower is really sixty feet high?"
"Sixty-two feet and six inches," repeated Monsieur Roger again. "That is exact. Do you want to have it proved to you?"
"Oh, yes, sir," said Paul Solange, with real curiosity.
"Very well. Go back to the château, and bring me a ball of twine and a yard-measure."
"I run," said Paul.
"Take care!" cried Monsieur Roger, seeing how quickly Paul was hurrying down the tower.
When Paul had safely reached the ground, Monsieur Roger said to himself, with an air of satisfaction,—
"Come, come! we will make something out of that boy yet!"
CHAPTER X.
PHYSICAL SCIENCE.
Paul returned to the tower more quickly than Monsieur Roger had expected. Instead of returning to the château, he had taken the shortest cut, had reached the village, and had procured there the two things wanted. He climbed up the tower and arrived beside Monsieur Roger, holding out the ball of twine and the yard-stick.
"You are going to see, you little doubter, that I was not wrong," said Monsieur Roger.
He tied a stone to the twine, and let it down outside the tower to the ground.
"This length of twine," he said, "represents exactly the height of the tower, does it not?"
"Yes, sir," answered Paul.
Monsieur Roger made a knot in the twine at the place where it rested on the top of the tower. Then he asked Paul to take the yard-stick which he had brought, and to hold it extended between his two hands. Then, drawing up the twine which hung outside the tower, he measured it yard by yard. Paul counted. When he had reached the number sixty, he could not help bending over to see how much remained of the twine.
"Ah, sir," he cried, "I think you have won."
"Let us finish our count," said Monsieur Roger, quietly.
And Paul counted,—
"Sixty-one, sixty-two,—sixty-two feet——"
"And?"
"And six inches!" cried Paul.
"I have won, as you said, my young friend," cried Monsieur Roger, who enjoyed Paul's surprise. "Now let us cautiously descend and return to the château, where the breakfast-bell will soon ring."
The descent was made in safety, and they directed their steps towards Sainte-Gemme. Paul walked beside Monsieur Roger without saying anything. He was deep in thought.
Monsieur Roger, understanding what was going on in the brain of his friend, took care not to disturb him. He waited, hoping for an answer. His hope was soon realized. As they reached the park, Paul, who, after thinking a great deal, had failed to solve the difficulty, said, all of a sudden,—
"Monsieur Roger!"
"What, my friend?"
"How did you measure the tower?"
Monsieur Roger looked at Paul, and, affecting a serious air, he said,—
"It is impossible, entirely impossible for me to answer."
"Impossible?" cried Paul, in surprise.
"Yes, impossible."
"Why, please?"
"Because in answering I will break the promise that I have made you,—the promise to say nothing about chemistry or physical science."
"Ah!" said Paul, becoming silent again.
Monsieur Roger glanced at his companion from the corner of his eye, knowing that his curiosity would soon awake again. At the end of the narrow, shady pathway they soon saw the red bricks of the château shining in the sun; but Paul had not yet renewed his question, and Monsieur Roger began to be a little uneasy,—for, if Paul held his tongue, it would show that his curiosity had vanished, and another occasion to revive it would be difficult to find.
Luckily, Paul decided to speak at the very moment when they reached the château.
"Then," said he, expressing the idea which was uppermost,—"Then it is physical science?"
Monsieur Roger asked, in an indifferent tone,—
"What is physical science?"
"Your method of measuring the tower."
"Yes, it is physical science, as you say. Consequently, you see very well that I cannot answer you."
"Ah, Monsieur Roger," said Paul, embarrassed, "you are laughing at me."
"Not at all, my friend. I made a promise; I must hold to it. I have a great deal of liking for you, and I don't want you to dislike me."
"Oh, sir!"
Suddenly they heard the voice of Monsieur Dalize, who cried, cheerfully,—
"See, they are already quarrelling!"
For some moments Monsieur Dalize, at the door of the vestibule, surrounded by his wife and his children, had been gazing at the two companions. Monsieur Roger and Paul approached.
"What is the matter?" asked Monsieur Dalize, shaking hands with his friend.
"A very strange thing has happened," answered Monsieur Roger.
"And what is that?"
"Simply that Master Paul wants me to speak to him of physical science."
An astonished silence, soon followed by a general laugh, greeted these words. Miss Miette took a step forward, looked at Paul with an uneasy air, and said,—
"Are you sick, my little Paul?"
Paul, confused, kept silent, but he answered by a reproachful look the ironical question of his friend Miette.
"But whence could such a change have come?" asked Madame Dalize, addressing Monsieur Roger. "Explain to us what has happened."
"Here are the facts," answered Monsieur Roger. "We had climbed up the tower of Heurtebize——"
Madame Dalize started, and turned a look of uneasiness towards Paul.
"Paul was not at fault," Monsieur Roger hastened to add. "I was the guilty one. Well, we were up there, when Master Paul got the idea of estimating the height of the tower. I answered that nothing was more simple than to know it at once. I asked him to let fall a stone. I looked at my watch while the stone was falling, and I said, 'The tower is sixty-two feet and six inches high.' Master Paul seemed to be astonished. He went after a yard-stick and some twine. We measured the tower, and Master Paul has recognized that the tower is in fact sixty-two feet and six inches high. Now he wants me to tell him how I have been able so simply, with so little trouble, to learn the height. That is a portion of physical science; and, as I made Master Paul a promise this very morning not to speak to him of physical science nor of chemistry, you see it is impossible for me to answer."
Monsieur Dalize understood at once what his friend Roger had in view, and, assuming the same air, he answered,—
"Certainly, it is impossible; you are perfectly right. You promised; you must keep your promise."
"Unless," said Miss Miette, taking sides with her friend Paul,—"unless Paul releases Monsieur Roger from his promise."
"You are entirely right, my child," said Monsieur Roger; "should Paul release me sufficiently to ask me to answer him. But, as I remarked to you a moment ago, I fear that he will repent too quickly, and take a dislike to me. That I should be very sorry for."
"No, sir, I will not repent. I promise you that."
"Very well," said Miette; "there is another promise. You know that you will have to keep it."
"But," answered Monsieur Roger, turning to Paul, "it will be necessary for me to speak to you of weight, of the fall of bodies, of gravitation; and I am very much afraid that that will weary you."
"No, sir," answered Paul, very seriously, "that will not weary me. On the contrary, that will interest me, if it teaches me how you managed to calculate the height of the tower."
"It will certainly teach you that."
"Then I am content," said Paul.
"And I also," said Monsieur Roger to himself, happy to have attained his object so soon.
CHAPTER XI.
THE SMOKE WHICH FALLS.
In the evening, after dinner, Monsieur Roger, to whom Paul recalled his promise, asked Miette to go and find him a pebble in the pathway before the château. When he had the bit of stone in his hand, Monsieur Roger let it fall from the height of about three feet.
"As you have just heard and seen," said he, addressing Paul, "this stone in falling from a small height produces only a feeble shock, but if it falls from the height of the house upon the flagstones of the pavement, the shock would be violent enough to break it."
Monsieur Roger interrupted himself, and put this question to Paul:
"Possibly you may have asked yourself why this stone should fall. Why do bodies fall?"
"Goodness knows," said the small voice of Miss Miette in the midst of the silence that followed.
"Miette," said Madame Dalize, "be serious, and don't answer for others."
"But, mamma, I am sure that Paul would have answered the same as I did:—would you not, Paul?"
Paul bent his head slightly as a sign that Miette was not mistaken.
"Well," continued Monsieur Roger, "another one before you did ask himself this question. It was a young man of twenty-three years, named Newton. He found himself one fine evening in a garden, sitting under an apple-tree, when an apple fell at his feet. This common fact, whose cause had never awakened the attention of anybody, filled all his thoughts; and, as the moon was shining in the heavens, Newton asked himself why the moon did not fall like the apple."
"That is true," said Miette; "why does not the moon fall?"
"Listen, and you will hear," said Monsieur Dalize.
Monsieur Roger continued:
"By much reflection, by hard work and calculation, Newton made an admirable discovery,—that of universal attraction. Yes, he discovered that all bodies, different though they may be, attract each other: they draw towards each other; the bodies which occupy the celestial spaces,—planets and suns,—as well as the bodies which are found upon our earth. The force which attracts bodies towards the earth, which made this stone fall, as Newton's apple fell, has received the name of weight. Weight, therefore, is the attraction of the earth for articles which are on its surface. Why does this table, around which we find ourselves, remain in the same place? Why does it not slide or fly away? Simply because it is retained by the attraction of the earth. I have told you that all bodies attract each other. It is therefore quite true that in the same way as the earth attracts the table, so does the table attract the earth."
"Like a loadstone," said Albert Dalize.
"Well, you may compare the earth in this instance to a loadstone. The loadstone draws the iron, and iron draws the loadstone, exactly as the earth and the table draw each other; but you can understand that the earth attracts the table with far more force than the table attracts the earth."
"Yes," said Miette; "because the earth is bigger than the table."
"Exactly so. It has been discovered that bodies attract each other in proportion to their size,—that is to say, the quantity of matter that they contain. On the other hand, the farther bodies are from each other the less they attract each other. I should translate in this fashion the scientific formula which tells us that bodies attract each other in an inverse ratio to the square of the distance. I would remind you that the square of a number is the product obtained by multiplying that number by itself. So all bodies are subject to that force which we call weight; all substances, all matter abandoned to itself, falls to the earth."
Just here Miss Miette shifted uneasily on her chair, wishing to make an observation, but not daring.
"Come, Miss Miette," said Monsieur Roger, who saw this manoeuvre, "you have something to tell us. Your little tongue is itching to say something. Well, speak; we should all like to hear you."
"Monsieur Roger," said Miette, "is not smoke a substance?"
"Certainly; the word substance signifies something that exists. Smoke exists. Therefore it is a substance."
"Then," replied Miette, with an air of contentment with herself, "as smoke is a substance, there is one substance which does not fall to the earth. Indeed, it does just the opposite."
"Ah! Miss Miette wants to catch me," said Monsieur Roger.
Miette made a gesture of modest denial, but at heart she was very proud of the effect which she had produced, for every one looked at her with interest.
"To the smoke of which you speak," continued Monsieur Roger, "you might add balloons, and even clouds."
"Certainly, that is true," answered Miette, näively.
"Very well; although smoke and balloons rise in the air instead of falling, although clouds remain suspended above our heads, smoke and balloons and clouds are none the less bodies with weight. What prevents their fall is the fact that they find themselves in the midst of the air, which is heavier than they are. Take away the air and they would fall."
"Take away the air?" cried Miette, with an air of doubt, thinking that she was facing an impossibility.
"Yes, take away the air," continued Monsieur Roger; "for that can be done. There even exists for this purpose a machine, which is called an air-pump. You place under a glass globe a lighted candle. Then you make a vacuum,—that is to say, by the aid of the air-pump you exhaust the air in the globe; soon the candle is extinguished for want of air, but the wick of the candle continues for some instants to produce smoke. Now, you think, I suppose, that that smoke rises in the globe?"
"Certainly," said Miette.
"No, no, not at all; it falls."
"Ah! I should like to see that!" cried Miette.
"And, in order to give you the pleasure of seeing this, I suppose you would like an air-pump?"
"Well, papa will buy me one.—Say, papa, won't you do it, so we may see the smoke fall?"
"No, indeed!" said Monsieur Dalize; "how can we introduce here instruments of physical science during vacation? What would Paul say?"
"Paul would say nothing. I am sure that he is just as anxious as I am to see smoke fall.—Are you not, Paul?"
And Paul Solange, already half-conquered, made a sign from the corner of his eye to his little friend that her demand was not at all entirely disagreeable to him.