It was then 3.30 p.m.  The bullet was still describing its curve round the moon.  Had its route again been modified by the meteor?  It was to be feared.  The projectile ought, however to describe a curve imperturbably determined by the laws of mechanics.  Barbicane inclined to the opinion that this curve would be a parabola and not an hyperbola.  However, if the parabola was admitted, the bullet ought soon to come out of the cone of shadow thrown into the space on the opposite side to the sun.  This cone, in fact, is very narrow, the angular diameter of the moon is so small compared to the diameter of the orb of day.  Until now the projectile had moved in profound darkness.  Whatever its speed had been—­and it could not have been slight—­its period of occultation continued.  That fact was evident, but perhaps that would not have been the case in a rigidly parabolical course.  This was a fresh problem which tormented Barbicane’s brain, veritably imprisoned as it was in a web of the unknown which he could not disentangle.

Neither of the travellers thought of taking a minute’s rest.  Each watched for some unexpected incident which should throw a new light on their uranographic studies.  About five o’clock Michel distributed to them, by way of dinner, some morsels of bread and cold meat, which were rapidly absorbed, whilst no one thought of leaving the port-light, the panes of which were becoming incrusted under the condensation of vapour.

About 5.45 p.m., Nicholl, armed with his telescope, signalised upon the southern border of the moon, and in the direction followed by the projectile, a few brilliant points outlined against the dark screen of the sky.  They looked like a succession of sharp peaks with profiles in a tremulous line.  They were rather brilliant.  The terminal line of the moon looks the same when she is in one of her octants.

They could not be mistaken.  There was no longer any question of a simple meteor, of which that luminous line had neither the colour nor the mobility, nor of a volcano in eruption.  Barbicane did not hesitate to declare what it was.

“The sun!” he exclaimed.

“What! the sun!” answered Nicholl and Michel Ardan.

“Yes, my friends, it is the radiant orb itself, lighting up the summit of the mountains situated on the southern border of the moon.  We are evidently approaching the South Pole!”

“After having passed the North Pole,” answered Michel.  “Then we have been all round our satellite.”

“Yes, friend Michel.”

“Then we have no more hyperbolas, no more parabolas, no more open curves to fear!”

“No, but a closed curve.”

“Which is called—­”

“An ellipsis.  Instead of being lost in the interplanetary spaces it is possible that the projectile will describe an elliptical orbit round the moon.”

“Really!”

“And that it will become its satellite.”

“Moon of the moon,” exclaimed Michel Ardan.