"It is a matter," said the philosopher, "of some piles of mud as big
as your heel[2]. It is not that any of these millions of men that
slit each other's throats care about this pile of mud. It is only a
matter of determining if it should belong to a certain man who we
call 'Sultan,' or to another who we call, for whatever reason,
'Czar.' Neither one has ever seen nor will ever see the little piece
of Earth, and almost none of these animals that mutually kill
themselves have ever seen the animal for which they kill."

[2] Crimea, which all the same was not reunited with Russia until
1783. B.

"Oh! Cruel fate!" cried the Sirian with indignation, "who could
conceive of this excess of maniacal rage! It makes me want to take
three steps and crush this whole anthill of ridiculous assassins."

"Do not waste your time," someone responded, "they are working
towards ruin quickly enough. Know that after ten years only one
hundredth of these scoundrels will be here. Know that even if they
have not drawn swords, hunger, fatigue, or intemperance will overtake
them. Furthermore, it is not they that should be punished, it is
those sedentary barbarians who from the depths of their offices
order, while they are digesting their last meal, the massacre of a
million men, and who subsequently give solemn thanks to God."

The voyager was moved with pity for the small human race, where he
was discovering such surprising contrasts.

"Since you are amongst the small number of wise men," he told these
sirs, "and since apparently you do not kill anyone for money, tell
me, I beg of you, what occupies your time."

"We dissect flies," said the philosopher, "we measure lines, we
gather figures; we agree with each other on two or three points that
we do not understand."

It suddenly took the Sirian and the Saturnian's fancy to question
these thinking atoms, to learn what it was they agreed on.

"What do you measure," said the Saturnian, "from the Dog Star to the
great star of the Gemini?"

They responded all at once, "thirty-two and a half degrees."

"What do you measure from here to the moon?"

"60 radii of the Earth even."

"How much does your air weigh?"

He thought he had caught them[3], but they all told him that air
weighed around 900 times less than an identical volume of the purest
water, and 19,000 times less than a gold ducat. The little dwarf from
Saturn, surprised at their responses, was tempted to accuse of
witchcraft