down to it, and her active fingers ran up and down the keyboard. The officers set the example, and strove to excel each other in making merry up to an advanced hour of the night. The most eccentric dances were indulged in. Besides waltzes, polkas, and quadrilles many out-ofthe-way saltatory performances were introduced. The Canadians danced jigs more or less Scottish in character; the Bretons indulged in other eccentricities of a more or less uncivilized character.
Isabelle took part in the general merry-making, availing herself of the arm of Hubert D’Ermont, her betrothed. Lieutenant Pol and Doctor Servan were both musicians and quite expert on the piano, and took turns in relieving Mademoiselle De Keralio.
There were songs, comic and sentimental, according to the repertory of the singers. Some gave recitations either in verse or prose. To wind up with, Schnecker gave a magic lantern entertainment, for which he was heartily cheered.
At two o’clock in the morning as the day closed in all went to bed, peaceful in heart and joyful in mind.
Half an hour afterwards all in the encampment were asleep, and the cold, insidious and morose, brought the mercury down in the tube, the temperature outside falling to twenty below zero.
One only was not asleep; and he was Schnecker, the chemist.
He had obtained permission from the first to sleep in the laboratory, of which he had the entire charge. Although the atmosphere was growing colder and colder, he remained standing by the side of his bed, frowning, and with his hands clenched.
And from time to time a grunt escaped from his lips.
“Oh! This D’Ermont, curse him! How I hate him! Am I always to be his laughing-stock? In what a tone of haughty contempt he replied to my objections.”
He stopped and took three turns in his room.
“But if he is right? If he told the truth? Is it really possible? And what is the permanent body his brother has been able to solidify? Yes, what? As far as I know only nitrogen is likely to be treated in that way. But what could he do with nitrogen? Nothing. We do not want to fertilize the lands of the pole, nor to provide these poorly combustible regions with oxygen. Besides, he spoke of a gas which was both combustible and a source of power. Can it be hydrogen?”
He started, and remained for a few seconds in deep thought. Resuming his walk, he gave his anger full course. Exclamations and fragmentary phrases came from his lips in jerks.
“Madmen! Idiots who believe it! The fable of Cailletet liquefying hydrogen! A story of a French invention! 240 atmospheres of pressure! And Pictet even solidifying it at 650 atmospheres! Think of it!”
He crossed his arms, and looking at the furnaces, crucibles and retorts in front of him, said,—
“ If the thing had been possible, would not my German fellow-countrymen have discovered it? Is it only these Celts that are capable of such things?”
But he could not convince himself; he could not believe it.
“Really, I know not why I mention these names of Germany and France? Do they mean anything in my eyes? Are they not on the contrary mere narrow credulities, degrading predilections, words realizing that most absurd of conceptions, patriotism! I have no country: I renounce them all. Mine disgraced me and condemned me to death for an action which those brachycephalous boobies full of beer called a crime against common humanity.”
He stopped. The sound of a voice reached him from the room next door.
Unmindful of the cold, he took off his boots, blew out the light, and placed his ear at the keyhole. He was not mistaken. There was talking going on in the next room.
The room next to the laboratory was Isabelle’s. It was the best sheltered. At this moment Isabelle, with her father and Doctor Servan, were listening to Hubert as he developed his theories.
And the traitor Schnecker, panting, with his heart full of bitterness, listened as in echo to his own words, to the lieutenant explaining to his
Isabelle took part in the general merry-making, availing herself of the arm of Hubert D’Ermont, her betrothed. Lieutenant Pol and Doctor Servan were both musicians and quite expert on the piano, and took turns in relieving Mademoiselle De Keralio.
There were songs, comic and sentimental, according to the repertory of the singers. Some gave recitations either in verse or prose. To wind up with, Schnecker gave a magic lantern entertainment, for which he was heartily cheered.
At two o’clock in the morning as the day closed in all went to bed, peaceful in heart and joyful in mind.
Half an hour afterwards all in the encampment were asleep, and the cold, insidious and morose, brought the mercury down in the tube, the temperature outside falling to twenty below zero.
One only was not asleep; and he was Schnecker, the chemist.
He had obtained permission from the first to sleep in the laboratory, of which he had the entire charge. Although the atmosphere was growing colder and colder, he remained standing by the side of his bed, frowning, and with his hands clenched.
And from time to time a grunt escaped from his lips.
“Oh! This D’Ermont, curse him! How I hate him! Am I always to be his laughing-stock? In what a tone of haughty contempt he replied to my objections.”
He stopped and took three turns in his room.
“But if he is right? If he told the truth? Is it really possible? And what is the permanent body his brother has been able to solidify? Yes, what? As far as I know only nitrogen is likely to be treated in that way. But what could he do with nitrogen? Nothing. We do not want to fertilize the lands of the pole, nor to provide these poorly combustible regions with oxygen. Besides, he spoke of a gas which was both combustible and a source of power. Can it be hydrogen?”
He started, and remained for a few seconds in deep thought. Resuming his walk, he gave his anger full course. Exclamations and fragmentary phrases came from his lips in jerks.
“Madmen! Idiots who believe it! The fable of Cailletet liquefying hydrogen! A story of a French invention! 240 atmospheres of pressure! And Pictet even solidifying it at 650 atmospheres! Think of it!”
He crossed his arms, and looking at the furnaces, crucibles and retorts in front of him, said,—
“ If the thing had been possible, would not my German fellow-countrymen have discovered it? Is it only these Celts that are capable of such things?”
But he could not convince himself; he could not believe it.
“Really, I know not why I mention these names of Germany and France? Do they mean anything in my eyes? Are they not on the contrary mere narrow credulities, degrading predilections, words realizing that most absurd of conceptions, patriotism! I have no country: I renounce them all. Mine disgraced me and condemned me to death for an action which those brachycephalous boobies full of beer called a crime against common humanity.”
He stopped. The sound of a voice reached him from the room next door.
Unmindful of the cold, he took off his boots, blew out the light, and placed his ear at the keyhole. He was not mistaken. There was talking going on in the next room.
The room next to the laboratory was Isabelle’s. It was the best sheltered. At this moment Isabelle, with her father and Doctor Servan, were listening to Hubert as he developed his theories.
And the traitor Schnecker, panting, with his heart full of bitterness, listened as in echo to his own words, to the lieutenant explaining to his
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