and as Ben Zoof spoke, he pointed directly overhead to where a faint
white disc was dimly visible through the haze of clouds.

"Nonsense!" exclaimed Servadac. "How can the sun be in the zenith,
in the month of January, in lat. 39 degrees N.?"

"Can't say, sir. I only know the sun is there; and at the rate
he has been traveling, I would lay my cap to a dish of couscous
that in less than three hours he will have set."

Hector Servadac, mute and motionless, stood with folded arms.
Presently he roused himself, and began to look about again.
"What means all this?" he murmured. "Laws of gravity disturbed!
Points of the compass reversed! The length of day reduced one half!
Surely this will indefinitely postpone my meeting with the count.
Something has happened; Ben Zoof and I cannot both be mad!"

The orderly, meantime, surveyed his master with the greatest equanimity;
no phenomenon, however extraordinary, would have drawn from him
a single exclamation of surprise. "Do you see anyone, Ben Zoof?"
asked the captain, at last.

"No one, sir; the count has evidently been and gone." "But supposing
that to be the case," persisted the captain, "my seconds would
have waited, and not seeing me, would have come on towards the gourbi.
I can only conclude that they have been unable to get here;
and as for Count Timascheff--"

Without finishing his sentence. Captain Servadac, thinking it
just probable that the count, as on the previous evening, might come