“And if there are no Selenites?” retorted Nicholl, who, under the influence of this unaccountable intoxication, was very contradictory. “Who said that there were no Selenites?” exclaimed Michel in a threatening tone. “I do,” howled Nicholl. “Captain,” said Michel, “do not repeat that insolence, or I will knock your teeth down your throat!” The two adversaries were going to fall upon each other, and the incoherent discussion threatened to merge into a fight, when Barbicane intervened with one bound. “Stop, miserable men,” said he, separating his two companions; “if there are no Selenites, we will do without them.” “Yes,” exclaimed Michel, who was not particular; “yes, we will do without them. We have only to make Selenites. Down with the Selenites!” “The empire of the moon belongs to us,” said Nicholl. “Let us three constitute the republic.” “I will be the congress,” cried Michel. “And I the senate,” retorted Nicholl. “And Barbicane, the president,” howled Michel. “Not a president elected by the nation,” replied Barbicane. “Very well, a president elected by the congress,” cried Michel; “and as I am the congress, you are unanimously elected!” “Hurrah! hurrah! hurrah! for President Barbicane,” exclaimed Nicholl. “Hip! hip! hip!” vociferated Michel Ardan. Then the president and the senate struck up in a tremendous voice the popular song “Yankee Doodle,” while from the congress resounded the masculine tones of the “Marseillaise.” Then they struck up a frantic dance, with maniacal gestures, idiotic stampings, and somersaults like those of the boneless clowns in the circus. Diana, joining in the dance, and howling in her turn, jumped to the top of the projectile. An unaccountable flapping of wings was then heard amid most fantastic cock-crows, while five or six hens fluttered like bats against the walls. Then the three traveling companions, acted upon by some unaccountable influence above that of intoxication, inflamed by the air which had set their respiratory apparatus on fire, fell motionless to the bottom of the projectile. CHAPTER VIII. AT SEVENTY-EIGHT THOUSAND FIVE HUNDRED AND FOURTEEN LEAGUES What had happened? Whence the cause of this singular intoxication, the consequences of which might have been very disastrous? A simple blunder of Michel’s, which, fortunately, Nicholl was able to correct in time. After a perfect swoon, which lasted some minutes, the captain, recovering first, soon collected his scattered senses. Although he had breakfasted only two hours before, he felt a gnawing hunger, as if he had not eaten anything for several days. Everything about him, stomach and brain, were overexcited to the highest degree. He got up and demanded from Michel a supplementary repast. Michel, utterly done up, did not answer.