a moment, and of which she then breaks the mould.

Among other peculiarities, this curiosity gave himself out for
a sublime ignoramus, "like Shakespeare," and professed supreme
contempt for all scientific men. Those "fellows," as he called
them, "are only fit to mark the points, while we play the game."
He was, in fact, a thorough Bohemian, adventurous, but not an
adventurer; a hare-brained fellow, a kind of Icarus, only
possessing relays of wings. For the rest, he was ever in
scrapes, ending invariably by falling on his feet, like those
little figures which they sell for children's toys. In a few
words, his motto was "I have my opinions," and the love of the
impossible constituted his ruling passion.

Such was the passenger of the Atlanta, always excitable, as if
boiling under the action of some internal fire by the character
of his physical organization. If ever two individuals offered
a striking contrast to each other, these were certainly Michel
Ardan and the Yankee Barbicane; both, moreover, being equally
enterprising and daring, each in his own way.

The scrutiny which the president of the Gun Club had instituted
regarding this new rival was quickly interrupted by the shouts
and hurrahs of the crowd. The cries became at last so
uproarious, and the popular enthusiasm assumed so personal a
form, that Michel Ardan, after having shaken hands some
thousands of times, at the imminent risk of leaving his fingers
behind him, was fain at last to make a bolt for his cabin.

Barbicane followed him without uttering a word.