Chapter 7 Chapter VII

Neither Mr. Dean Forsyth nor Dr. Hudson replied to the jokes of the Weston Punch.Their reason was brilliant: they had no idea the paper had such an article. "It's the best way to protect yourself from bad things being said without knowing it," M. de la Paris would say with unquestionable wisdom.However, these somewhat clever ridicules are not very pleasant to the people being ridiculed.If the person being ridiculed knows nothing about it, it's not the case for their relatives and friends.Mitz, in particular, annoys her the most.Accused her master of seducing this fireball that threatened public safety! ... According to her, Mr. Dean Forsyth should sue the author of the article, and Judge John Prowse would order him damages to his reputation, not to mention imprisonment for his libelous insinuations.

As for Lulu, she took it seriously and felt that what the Weston Punch had said was right. "Yes, it's right," she said. "Why would Mr. Forsyth and Pa ever think of finding the damned stone? Without them, it'll just pass by like Like the other meteors that did no harm to us." The danger, or misfortune, of which the little girl spoke was the inevitable rivalry which would exist between Francis' uncle and Jenny's father, and its consequences on the eve of the wedding, which had been It will make the bond between the two companies even closer. Miss Lulu's worry was well-founded, and what would happen finally happened.While Mr. Dean Forsyth and Dr. Huddleson were only suspicious of each other, no quarrel broke out.Although their relationship had cooled and they avoided seeing each other, things at least did not develop.But now, since the publication of the Boston Observatory's account, it has been publicly confirmed that the two astronomers at Weston had spotted the same meteor.How will they approach this matter?Will both men claim to be the first discoverers of the meteor?Will this lead to personal disputes, or even huge debates?The Weston press would certainly welcome such a polemic.

These are unknown, only the future can answer.But in any case, it is certain that neither Mr. Dean Forsyth nor Dr. Huddleson said anything about the marriage (and the date of the wedding came too late for the unmarried couple. ).When someone talked about it in their presence, they always seemed to forget something and needed to get back to the observatory right away.Besides, that's where they spend most of their time, and they're getting more worried and focused every day. Indeed, although the meteor had been found by the official astronomers, Mr. Dean Forsyth and Dr. Hudson were still trying in vain to find it.Was it already too far away, beyond the reach of their instruments?That's a credible hypothesis, but there's nothing to confirm it.Therefore, they did not give up their continuous observation, and took advantage of every moment of sunny weather day and night.If things go on like this, they will fall ill.

Both labored in vain to calculate the data of the little star.They all stubbornly considered themselves the unique discoverers of the star.And there's a real chance to settle their dispute over computing.Between two astronomers who are evenly matched, the most aggressive calculation may still prevail. However, their only observation of the small star was too short to provide data for their mathematical formulas, and one or more observations would have to be made before it was possible to determine the bolide's orbit.That is why both Mr. Dean Forsyth and Dr. Huddleson, fearful of being preempted by rivals, watched the skies eagerly, but were equally fruitless.Wayward meteors no longer loom over Weston's horizon, and if they do, they do so incognito.

The futility of the two astronomers can be felt in their tempers.It was almost impossible to get close to them.Mr. Dean Forsyth fired back twenty times a day at Omicron, who responded with equal anger.As for the Doctor, if he had to vent his anger on himself, he did so. Under such conditions, who would dare to think and talk about making a marriage contract and a wedding ceremony? Three days had passed since the Boston Observatory sent the newspaper an account.If the great astronomical clockmaker had thought of putting a bell on the clock, the celestial clock with the sun as its hour hand would have struck the 22nd of April.In another twenty days, that important day will also come, although Lulu is impatient and insists that this day does not exist in the calendar.

Would it be safe to mention the wedding again to Francis Gordon's uncle and Jenny Huddleson's father?They are silent about it now, as if the wedding should never have taken place.Mrs. Hudson thought it best not to talk about it with her husband, who had as little to worry about the wedding preparations anyway... as he had to worry about his own house.When the day came, Mrs. Hudson would say to him flatly: "Here are your clothes and hat and gloves. Time to go to St. Andrew's. Give me your arm and let's go." He would definitely go, and he didn't even know why he was going.As long as the meteor didn't pass right in front of the eyepiece of his telescope at this very moment.

Mrs. Huddleson's opinion prevailed in the Morris Road house, and the Doctor was not at all pressed to explain his attitude to Mr. Dean Forsyth, who was violently attacked.Mitz said nothing.She was furious at her master, and wanted to have a face-to-face talk with him alone, to break up this tense situation, if there was a tiny incident now, it would cause the two families to break up.What consequences will not appear!The wedding was postponed or even broken up, the two fiancées were heartbroken and hopeless, and especially her dear Francis, her "child," as she was wont to call him, by an old and tender habit.What was the poor young man to do, before a quarrel broke out so openly that no reconciliation could be made?

So on the afternoon of April 22nd she was alone in the dining-room with Mr. Dean Forsyth, "face to face" as she wished.She had stopped the master as he was going towards the stairs of the round tower. Mr. Forsyth was known to be afraid of reasoning with Mitz.He was not unaware that this distinction always turned out to be against him.He therefore felt that the wisest thing to do was to be indiscriminate. Now, he glanced up at Mitz's face, which looked like a bomb with a burning fuse that was about to go off.Mr. Dean Forsyth, wanting to avoid the aftermath of the explosion, retreated towards the door.But before he could turn the handle, the old maid lay across in front of him, her eyes fixed on those of her master, who ducked timidly.

"Sir," she said, "I want to talk to you." "Talk to me, Mitz? I don't have time right now!" "Boy! I don't have time, sir. I've got to wash all the dishes for lunch. Your 'pipes' will probably wait as long as my dishes." "What about Omicron? . . . I think he needs me." "Your clone brother! . . . this is a good character again! . . . He'll hear from me in a few days, your clone brother. You can tell him first. As they say:' The maid takes her time, she salutes you!' Repeat it to him verbatim, sir."

"Sure, Mitz. But I'm off to see my bolide." "Fire new? . . . " repeated Mitz, "I don't know what it is. But whatever you say, sir, it's no fun if it takes a while to replace a stone words that touch your heart." "Bolides, Mitz," explained Mr. Forsyth patiently. "It's a meteor, and . . . " "Oh!" Mitz yelled, "it's the famous Luxin! . . . Well, Luxin, let it wait and see, just like the clone brother!" "Okay!" exclaimed Mr. Forsyth when the sensitive spot was touched. "Besides, it's still cloudy. It's going to rain. This is not the time for you to enjoy the moon." Mitz said again.

This is true.Such persistent bad weather could really drive Mr. Forsyth and Dr. Hudson mad. For forty-eight hours the sky had been covered with thick clouds.There is no sunlight during the day, and no starlight at night.From horizon to horizon stretched white clouds like curtains of crepe, punctured now and then by the steeple of St. Andrew's church tower.Under such conditions, it is impossible to observe the sky and find the bolide that is so fiercely contested.It should even be considered that weather conditions were not necessarily favorable for astronomers in Ohio and Pennsylvania, nor for other observatories in the New and Old Worlds. Indeed, not a single new account of the meteor was published in the papers.Of course, the meteor wasn't of value enough to excite the scientific community either.Anyway, it's a fairly common cosmic phenomenon, and only the likes of Dean Forsyth and Huddleson wait for the meteor to return with such eagerness that it has turned into fury in them. When the master knew that he had no chance of dodging, Mitz folded his arms and said: "Has it happened to you, Mr. Forsyth, that you have forgotten that you have a nephew named Francis Gordon?" "Oh, my dear Francis?" returned Mr. Forsyth, nodding his head with a good-natured air. "No, I haven't forgotten him. . . How is he? My little Francis? " "Very well, thank you, sir." "It seems I haven't seen him for some time." "Indeed, since lunchtime..." "real!……" "Are your eyes on the moon, sir?" asked Mitz, forcing her master to turn toward her. "No, my dear Mitz! . . . But what can be done? I have something on my mind . . . " "This worry makes you seem to have forgotten an important event...". "Forgot a big thing? ... what?" "Your nephew is getting married." "Marry!...marry...!" "You don't necessarily want to ask me which kind of marriage it is?" "No, Mitz! . . . But what is the purpose of asking these questions?" "Cunning! . . . You don't have to be a wizard to know that you ask a question in order to get an answer?" "Answer on what, Mitz?" "About what you've done to the Huddlesons, sir! . . . because you're not unaware of the Hudsons, of Dr. Hudson of Morris Road, and of Mrs. Hudson— —mother of Miss Lulu and Miss Jenny Hudson, who is your nephew's fiancée?" As the name Huddleson came out of Mitz's mouth with increasing force, Mr. Dean Forsyth put his hands to his chest, his ribs, his head, as if the name had been a bullet, It seemed to hit him close.He was in pain, he was suffocating, blood rushed to his head.Seeing that he did not answer, Mitz persisted in asking: "Hey! Did you hear that?" "Why didn't you hear me!" cried her master. "How is it?..." The old maid asked again, raising her voice. "Francis has been thinking of this marriage?" said Mr. Forsyth at last. "Why not!" said Mitz affirmatively. "He's as eager to breathe, my dear boy! Like all of us, and I'm willing to believe that you are thinking of this marriage!" "What! Has my nephew always made up his mind to marry this Huddleson's daughter?" "Miss Jenny, sir! I assure you, sir, that he has made up his mind! Good heavens! He won't be so determined until he loses his head! How could he find a lovelier Fiancee, a more charming girl?" "Even if that... this... In short, the daughter of the person whose name I feel awkward when I mention it can be cute." "This is too much!" cried Mitz, undoing her apron as if to give it back. "Ah... Mitz... ah..." muttered her master, a little uneasy at the menacing gesture. The old maid waved her apron, the straps of which trailed to the floor. "It's all clear," she announced, "I've been working for thirty years, and I'm going to rot in my den and rot like a mangy dog, and I don't want to stay in a house where a man abuses his own flesh and blood. I'm just a Poor maid, but I have a conscience, sir." "Oh, this, Mitz," retorted Mr. Dean Forsyth, touched, "you don't know what he's done to me, this Huddleson!" "What the hell did he do to you?" "He stole me!" "Plagiarism?" "Yes, shameless plagiarism!  …" "And what did he steal from you? . . . your watch? . . . your purse? . . . your handkerchief? . . . " "My bolide!" "Oh, it's your Husband again!" cried the old maid, sneering mockingly, to Mr. Forsyth's discomfort. "It's been a long time since you've been talking about your famous dog! To get this far for a bum! . . . Your dog is yours, not Mr. Hudson's." Does it have your name on it? Doesn't it belong to everyone? To anyone, to me, to my dog, if I have a dog, ... But thank God, I don't have a dog! ... You are Did you buy it with money, or did you get it from an inheritance? . . . ” "Mitz! . . . " cried Mr. Forsyth, almost out of control. "What Mitz?" said the old maid, who was also very angry. "By God! Only a fool like a clay figurine would fall out with an old friend over a dirty pebble he'll never see again." "Shut up! Shut up!" protested the astronomer, stung in the heart. "No, sir, I'm going to go on, you call your idiot clone brother to help you "Idiot Omi clone! " "Yes, idiot, and he can't silence me... any more than our President himself can silence an Archangel from Almighty God announcing the end of the world!" Was Mr. Forsyth's tongue staggered at this dreadful remark?Is your throat tight and you can't speak?Is his vocal cord paralyzed and unable to make a sound?Anyway, it is certain that he could not answer.Even when, in the height of his rage, he contemplated throwing his faithful but rowdy Mitz out of the house, he could not utter the traditional words: "Get out! . . . Get out now! Don't make me see you!" Besides, Mitz wouldn't listen to him at all.After working for thirty years, a maid will not part with the master she saw coming into the world because of an unlucky meteor. But it was time for the quarrel to end.Mr. Dean Forsyth, knowing that he could not gain the upper hand, tried to fight and retreat without appearing to be running. The sun helped him.The weather suddenly cleared, and a strong ray of sunlight came in through the window facing the garden. There was no doubt that Dr. Hudson was on the pylon at this moment: the idea immediately entered Mr. Dean Forsyth's mind.He seemed to see that his opponent was taking advantage of the clearing to put his eyes on the eyepiece of the telescope and scan the depths of the sky! ... He couldn't stay anymore.The sunlight worked on him like a balloon.It inflates him, increases his lift, forces him up through the air. Mr. Dean Forsyth dropped all the anger that had built up in him as if dropping the rudder (the metaphor was to complement the balloon analogy) and moved towards the door. Unfortunately, Mitz stood in front, and it seemed that he had no intention of giving up a passage at all.Must he grab her arm, wrestle with her, and call Omicron to help? ... He was not compelled to this extreme, and the old maid must have been exhausted by what she had just done.Although she was quite used to giving her Master a hard time, she had never been so angry.Whether it was the exhaustion of such an outburst, or the seriousness of the subject of the debate, as it concerned the future happiness of her beloved "child," Mitz suddenly felt weak, and she sank heavily on a chair. Mr. Dean Forsyth (he should be credited for that) left the sun, the sky, and the meteors all aside.He walked up to the old maid and asked her how she was feeling with concern. "I don't know, sir, I'm like 'the whole stomach is flipping over.'" "Stomach upturned?" repeated Mr. Dean Forsyth, dumbfounded by this indeed rather peculiar malady. "Yes, sir," said Mitz in a sickly voice, "I have a lump in my heart." "Oh! . . . " said Mr. Forsyth, not less perplexed by this second explanation. He was about to attend to the patient in the usual manner in such cases: unbuttoning his coat, rubbing vinegar on his forehead and temples, pouring a glass of sweet water... But he didn't have time for that. Omicron's voice sounded from the round tower. "Bolide!" cried Omicron, "Bolide!" Mr. Dean Forsyth, forgetting everything in the universe, rushed up the stairs. Before he could leave, Mitz regained all her energy and lunged at her master.As the former quickly climbed up three steps one after another, the maid's vengeful voice followed him: "Mr. Forsyth," said Mitz, "you will well remember that the marriage of Frances Gordon and Jenny Huddleson will take place, and take place on the date fixed, or I shall not be a wise man. Sergeant (that word has a peculiar flavor from the mouth of the venerable Mitz)." Mr. Dean Forsyth didn't answer, didn't even hear.He hurried up the stairs of the Round Tower.