epilepsy amongst the maladies that follow the phases of the moon.  Nervous maladies have often appeared to be influenced by it.  Mead speaks of a child who had convulsions when the moon was in opposition.  Gall remarked that insane persons underwent an accession of their disorder twice in every month, at the epochs of the new and full moon.  Lastly, a thousand observations of this sort made upon malignant fevers and somnambulism tend to prove that the Queen of Night has a mysterious influence upon terrestrial maladies.”

“But how? why?” asked Barbicane.

“Why?” answered Ardan.  “Why, the only thing I can tell you is what Arago repeated nineteen centuries after Plutarch.  Perhaps it is because it is not true.”

In the height of his triumph Michel Ardan could not escape any of the annoyances incidental to a celebrated man.  Managers of entertainments wished to exhibit him.  Barnum offered him a million dollars to show him as a curious animal in the different towns of the United States.

Still, though he refused to satisfy public curiosity in that way, his portraits went all over the world, and occupied the place of honour in albums; proofs were made of all sizes from life size to medallions.  Every one could possess the hero in all positions—­head, bust, standing, full-face, profile, three-quarters, back.  Fifteen hundred thousand copies were taken, and it would have been a fine occasion to get money by relics, but he did not profit by it.  If he had sold his hairs for a dollar apiece there would have remained enough to make his fortune!

To tell the truth, this popularity did not displease him.  On the contrary, he put himself at the disposition of the public, and corresponded with the entire universe.  They repeated his witticisms, especially those he did not perpetrate.

Not only had he all the men for him, but the women too.  What an infinite number of good marriages he might have made if he had taken a fancy to “settle!” Old maids especially dreamt before his portraits day and night.

It is certain that he would have found female companions by hundreds, even if he had imposed the condition of following him up into the air.  Women are intrepid when they are not afraid of everything.  But he had no intention of transplanting a race of Franco-Americans upon the lunar continent, so he refused.

“I do not mean,” said he, “to play the part of Adam with a daughter of Eve up there.  I might meet with serpents!”

As soon as he could withdraw from the joys of triumph, too often repeated, he went with his friends to pay a visit to the Columbiad.  He owed it that.  Besides, he was getting very learned in ballistics since he had lived with Barbicane, J.T.  Maston, and tutti quanti.  His greatest pleasure consisted in repeating to these brave artillerymen that they were only amiable and learned murderers.  He was always joking about it.  The day he visited the Columbiad he greatly admired it, and went down to the bore of the gigantic mortar that was soon to hurl him towards the Queen of Night.