The lieutenant hesitated.

When, in a few moments, he began to speak, Servadac smiled intelligently, anticipating the answer he was about to hear.
"My conjecture is," said Procope, "that a fragment of considerable magnitude has been detached from the earth; that it has carried with it an envelope of the earth's atmosphere, and that it is now traveling through the solar system in an orbit that does not correspond at all with the proper orbit of the earth." The hypothesis was plausible; but what a multitude of bewildering speculations it entailed! If, in truth, a certain mass had been broken off from the terrestrial sphere, whither would it wend its way?
What would be the measure of the eccentricity of its path?
What would be its period round the sun?
Might it not, like a comet, be carried away into the vast infinity of space?
or, on the other hand, might it not be attracted to the great central source of light and heat, and be absorbed in it?
Did its orbit correspond with the orbit of the ecliptic?
and was there no chance of its ever uniting again with the globe, from which it had been torn off by so sudden and violent a disruption?
A thoughtful silence fell upon them all, which Servadac was the first to break.

"Lieutenant," he said, "your explanation is ingenious, and accounts for many appearances; but it seems to me that in one point it fails." "How so ?" replied Procope.

"To my mind the theory meets all objections." "I think not," Servadac answered.

"In one point, at least, it appears to me to break down completely." "What is that ?" asked the lieutenant.
"Stop a moment," said the captain.