nce."

"All right!" said Ardan, as usual in the best of humor after Barbican
had laid down the law. "I have no doubt it is exactly as you say; and,
now that all is settled, suppose we take breakfast. After such a hard
night spent in work, a little refreshment would not be out of place!"

Such a proposition being too reasonable even for M'Nicholl to oppose,
Ardan turned on the gas, and had everything ready for the meal in a few
minutes. But, this time, breakfast was consumed in absolute silence. No
toasts were offered, no hurrahs were uttered. A painful uneasiness had
seized the hearts of the daring travellers. The darkness into which
they were so suddenly plunged, told decidedly on their spirits. They
felt almost as if they had been suddenly deprived of their sight. That
thick, dismal savage blackness, which Victor Hugo's pen is so fond of
occasionally revelling in, surrounded them on all sides and crushed them
like an iron shroud.

It was felt worse than ever when, breakfast being over, Ardan carefully
turned off the gas, and everything within the Projectile was as dark as
without. However, though they could not see each other's faces, they
could hear each other's voices, and therefore they soon began to talk.
The most natural subject of conversation was this terrible night 354
hours long, which the laws of nature have imposed on the Lunar
inhabitants. Barbican undertook to give his friends some explanation
regarding the cause of the startling phenomenon, and the consequences
resulting from it.

"Yes, startling is the word for it," observed Barbican, replying to a
remark of Ardan's; "and still more so when we reflect that not only are
both lunar hemispheres deprived, by turns, of sun light for nearly 15
days, but that also the particular hemisphere over which we are at this
moment floating is all that long night completely deprived of
earth-light. In other words, it is only one side of the Moon's disc that
ever receives any light from the Earth. From nearly every portion of one
side of the Moon, the Earth is always as completely absent as the Sun is
from us at midnight. Suppose an analogous case existed on the Earth;
suppose, for instance, that neither in Europe, Asia or North America
was the Moon ever visible--that, in fact, it was to be seen only at our
antipodes. With what astonishment should we contemplate her for the
first time on our arrival in Australia or New Zealand!"

"Every man of us would pack off to A