CHAPTER II.A REVELATION.
To the general population of the colony the arrival of the
stranger was a matter of small interest. The Spaniards
were naturally too indolent to be affected in any way
by an incident that concerned themselves so remotely;
while the Russians felt themselves simply reliant on
their master, and as long as they were with him
were careless as to where or how they spent their days.
Everything went on with them in an accustomed routine;
and they lay down night after night, and awoke to their
avocations morning after morning, just as if nothing extraordinary
had occurred.
All night long Ben Zoof would not leave the professor's
bedside. He had constituted himself sick nurse, and considered
his reputation at stake if he failed to set his patient
on his feet again. He watched every movement, listened
to every breath, and never failed to administer the strongest
cordials upon the slightest pretext. Even in his sleep
Rosette's irritable nature revealed itself. Ever and again,
sometimes in a tone of uneasiness, and sometimes with the
expression of positive anger, the name of Gallia escaped
his lips, as though he were dreaming that his claim to the
discovery of the comet was being contested or denied; but
although his attendant was on the alert to gather all he
could, he was able to catch nothing in the incoherent
sentences that served to throw any real light upon the
problem that they were all eager to solve.
Gradually, however, the uneasy murmurings subsided,
and gave place to snores, deep and sonorous, which
augured favourably for an ultimate recovery.
When the sun re-appeared on the western horizon the
professor was still sound asleep; and Ben Zoof, who was
especially anxious that the repose which promised to be
so beneficial should not be disturbed, felt considerable
annoyance at hearing a loud knocking, evidently of some
blunt heavy instrument against a door that had been
placed at the entrance of the gallery, more for the purpose
of retaining internal warmth than for guarding against
intrusion from without. The first thought of the orderly
was that he would leave his patient and go to ascertain
the cause of the disturbance, but finding that the noise
had ceased, and remembering that there were others at
hand to attend to the door, he resolved to remain where
he was.
It was not very long, however, before the knocking
began again, Ben Zoof waited and waited on, in the
expectation that the noise would attract attention elsewhere;
but the sleep of the inmates of Nina's Hive was
too profound to be broken.
The knocking still went on.
“Confound it!” said Ben Zoof, “I must put a stop to
this;” and he made his way towards the door,
“Who's there?” he cried, in no very amiable tone.
“I,” replied a quavering voice.
“Who are you?”
“Isaac Hakkabut. Let me in; do, please, let me in.”
“Oh, it is you, old Ashtaroth, is it? What do you
want? Can't you get anybody to buy your stuffs?”
“Nobody will pay me a proper price.”
“Well, old Shimei, you won't find a customer here.
You had better be off.”
“No; but do, please—do, please, let me in,” supplicated
the Jew, “I want to speak to his Excellency, the
governour.”
“The governour is in bed, and asleep.”
“I can wait until he awakes.”
“Then wait where you are.”
And with this inhospitable rejoinder the orderly was
about to return to his place at the side of his patient, when
Servadac, who had been roused by the sound of voices,
called out:
“What's the matter, Ben Zoof?”
“Oh, nothing, sir; only that hound of a Hakkabut
says he wants to speak to you.”
“Let him in, then.”
Ben Zoof hesitated.
“Let him in, I say,” repeated the captain, peremptorily.
However reluctantly, Ben Zoof obeyed.
The door was unfastened, and Isaac Hakkabut
enveloped in an old overcoat, shuffled into the gallery.
In a few moments Servadac approached, and the Jew
began to overwhelm him with the most obsequious epithets.
Without vouchsafing any reply, the captain
beckoned to the old man to follow him, and leading the
way to the central hall, stopped, and turning so as to look
him steadily in the face, said:
“Now is your opportunity. Tell me what you want.”
“Oh, my lord, my lord,” whined Isaac, “you must have
some news to tell me.”
“News? What do you mean?”
“From my little tartan yonder, I saw the yawl go out
from the rock here on a journey, and I saw it come back,
and it brought a stranger; and I thought—I thought—I
thought”
“Well, you thought—what did you think?”
“Why, that perhaps the stranger had come trom the
northern shores of the Mediterranean, and that I might
ask him—”
He paused again, and gave an inquiring glance at the
captain.
“Ask him what? Speak out, man?”
“Ask him if he brings any tidings of Europe,” Hakkabut
blurted out at last.
Servadac shrugged his shoulders in contempt and
turned away. Here was a man who had been resident
three months in Gallia, a living witness of all the abnormal
phenomena that had occurred, and yet refusing to believe
that his hope of making good bargains with European
traders was at an end. Surely nothing, thought the
captain, will convince the old rascal now; and he moved
off in disgust. The orderly, however, who had listened
with much amusement, was by no means disinclined for
the conversation to be continued.
“Are you satisfied, old Ezekiel?” he asked.
“Isn't it so? Am I not right? Didn't a stranger
arrive here last night?” inquired the Jew.
“Yes, quite true.”
“Where from?”
“From the Balearic Isles.”
“The Balearic Isles?” echoed Isaac.
“Yes.”
“Fine quarters for trade! Hardly five and twenty
leagues from Spain! He must have brought news from
Europe!”
“Well, old Manasseh, what if he has?”
“I should like to see him.”
“Can't be.”
The Jew sidled close up to Ben Zoof, and laying his
hand on his arm, said in a low and insinuating tone:
“I am poor, you know; but I would give you a few
reals if you would let me talk to this stranger.”
But as if he thought he was making too liberal an
offer, he added:
“Only it must be at once.”
“He is too tired; he is worn out; he is fast asleep,”
answered Ben Zoof.
“But I would pay you to wake him.”
The captain had overheard the tenour of the conversation,
and interposed sternly:
“Hakkabut! if you make the least attempt to disturb
our visitor, I shall have you turned outside that door immediately.”
“No offence, my lord, I hope,” stammered out the Jew.
“I only meant...”
“Silence!” shouted Servadac.
The old man hung his head, abashed.
“I will tell you what,” said Servadac after a brief
interval; “I will give you leave to hear what this stranger
has to tell as soon as he is able to tell us anything; at
present we have not heard a word from his lips.”
The Jew looked perplexed.
“Yes,” said Servadac; “when we hear his story, you
shall hear it too.”
“And I hope it will be to your liking, old Ezekiel!”
added Ben Zoof in a voice of irony.
They had none of them long to wait, for within a few
minutes Rosette's peevish voice was heard calling:
“Joseph! Joseph!”
The professor did not open his eyes, and appeared to
be slumbering on, but very shortly afterwards called out
again:
“Joseph! Confound the fellow! where is he?”
It was evident that he was half dreaming about a
former servant now far away on the ancient globe.
“Where's my black board, Joseph?”
“Quite safe, sir,” answered Ben Zoof, quickly.
Rosette unclosed his eyes and fixed them full upon the
orderly's face.
“Are you Joseph?” he asked.
“At your service, sir,” replied Ben Zoof with imperturbable
gravity.
“Then get me my coffee, and be quick about it.”
Ben Zoof left to go into the kitchen, and Servadac
approached the professor in order to assist him in rising to
a sitting posture.
“Do you recognize your quondam pupil, professor?”
he asked.
“Ah, yes, yes; you are Servadac,” replied Rosette.
“It is twelve years or more since I saw you; I hope you
have improved.”

“Quite a reformed character, sir, I assure you,” said
Servadac, smiling.
“Well, that's as it should be; that's right,” said the
astronomer with fussy importance. “But let me have my
coffee,” he added impatiently; “I cannot collect my
thoughts without my coffee.”
Fortunately, Ben Zoof appeared with a great cup, hot
and strong. After draining it with much apparent relish,
the professor got out of bed, walked into the common hall,
round which he glanced with a pre-occupied air, and proceeded
to seat himself in an armchair, the most comfortable
which the cabin of the Dobryna had supplied. Then,
in a voice full of satisfaction, and that involuntarily
recalled the exclamations of delight that had wound up
the two first of the mysterious documents that had been
received, he burst out:
“Well, gentlemen, what do you think of Gallia?”
There was no time for any one to make a reply before
Isaac Hakkabut had darted forward.
“By the God...”
“Who is that?” asked the startled professor; and he
frowned, and made a gesture of repugnance.
Regardless of the efforts that were made to silence
him, the Jew continued:
“By the God of Abraham, I beseech you, give me
some tidings of Europe!”
“Europe?” shouted the professor, springing from his
seat as if he were electrified; “what does the man want
with Europe?”
“I want to get there!” screeched the Jew; and in
spite of every exertion to get him away, he clung most
tenaciously to the professor's chair, and again and again
implored for news of Europe.
Rosette made no immediate reply. After a moment
or two's reflection, he turned to Servadac and asked him
whether it was not the middle of April.
“It is the twentieth,” answered the captain.
“Then to-day,” said the astronomer, speaking with the
greatest deliberation—“to-day we are just three millions
of leagues away from Europe.”
The Jew was utterly crestfallen.
“You seem here,” continued the professor, “to be very
ignorant of the state of things.”
“How far we are ignorant,” rejoined Servadac, “I cannot
tell. But I will tell you all that we do know, and all
that we have surmised.”
And as briefly as he could, he related all that had
happened since the memorable night of the thirty-first of
December; how they had experienced the shock; how
the Dobryna had made her voyage; how they had discovered
nothing except the fragments of the old continent
at Tunis, Sardinia, Gibraltar, and now at Formentera; how
at intervals the three anonymous documents had been
received; and, finally, how the settlement at Gourbi Island
had been abandoned for their present quarters at Nina's
Hive.
The astronomer had hardly patience to hear him to
the end.
“And what do you say is your surmise as to your
present position?” he asked.
“Our supposition,” the captain replied, “is this. We
imagine that we are on a considerable fragment of the
terrestrial globe that has been detached by collision with a
planet to which you appear to have given the name of
Gallia.”
“Better than that!” cried Rosette, starting to his feet
with excitement.
“How? Why? What do you mean?” cried the voices
of the listeners.
“You are correct to a certain degree,” continued the
professor. “It is quite true that at 47' 35."6[1] after two
o'clock on the morning of the first of January there was
a collision; my comet grazed the earth; and the bits
of the earth which you have named were carried clean
away.”
They were all fairly bewildered.
“Where, then,” cried Servadac eagerly, “where are
we?”
“You are on my comet, on Gallia itself!”
And the professor gazed around him with a perfect air
of triumph.

1^  Formatting as given by Scribner's. Verne: “deux heures
quarante-sept minutes et trente-cinq secondes six dizièmes du matin”.