I have said, with regard to this car, that it was the perfection of automatism--pedals and handles reduced to the minimum. Such a machine presents only one drawback. It must be perfectly in order before setting out, for once _en route_, one has no more influence on it, except to quicken the pace, or to moderate it, but not to fortify it by dosing and repairs. The prospect of a halt spoiled my good humor. Meanwhile, the car pursued its jumpy course, and I could not prevent myself laughing. This manner of advancing recalled to me, in a comical way, the walks I had taken in this very place, with Klotz-Lerne, and the capricious way in which my sham uncle would stop, and then set off again. Hoping that it was merely a passing indisposition of the machine,--too much oil, for example,--I let the engine run on, and endeavored to find out by the noise it made, which of its functions was defective, and every now and again caused those inequalities of power transmission, which grew more marked at every pause, and some of which were so accentuated, indeed, that we were almost motionless for a second. My absurd comparison became clearer to me, and that amused me. “Just like that blackguardly Professor,” I said to myself. “It is amusing!” “What is the matter?” said my fellow-traveler. “You are not looking cheerful.” “I? Nonsense!” It is a curious thing, but this question had affected me. I should have thought that my face was quite calm. What motive had I not to be easy in my mind? I was annoyed, that was all. I simply was asking myself what organ was suffering in this great body (as the Professor had called it) and not being able to find anything, and it being about to stop altogether, I was annoyed, that was all. In vain I listened with a carefully trained ear to the explosion, clickings, dull-sounding knocks; no characteristic sound revealed to me the stiffness of valves or cranks. “I bet it is the clutch which has gone wrong,” I cried, “and yet the engine is all right.” And then Emma said, “Oh, Nicholas, do look! Should that thing there move?” “Ah! I told you so. There, you see!” She had pointed to the clutch-pedal, which was moving by itself, while the jolts of the car coincided with its motions. “That was the trouble.” Whilst my eyes were fixed on the pedal, it remained pushed right over. The car, unclutched, stopped. I was going to get out of it, when it set off again in a most brutal way. The pedal had come back. A certain uneasiness tormented me; it is certain nothing is so annoying as a car that will not work; but all the same, I do not remember ever having been so curiously affected by engine-trouble. _Suddenly the hooter began to yell of its own accord._ I felt the insurmountable need of saying something or other, but my dumbness redoubled my anxiety. “It is out of order generally,” I said, endeavoring to speak in a casual tone. “We shan’t get there before night, my dear.” * * * * *