I replied in good French that I did not know his language; but he seemed not to understand me, and my situation became more embarrassing. “If master were to tell our story,” said Conseil, “perhaps these gentlemen may understand some words.” I began to tell our adventures, articulating each syllable clearly, and without omitting one single detail. I announced our names and rank, introducing in person Professor Aronnax, his servant Conseil, and master Ned Land, the harpooner. The man with the soft calm eyes listened to me quietly, even politely, and with extreme attention; but nothing in his countenance indicated that he had understood my story. When I finished, he said not a word. There remained one resource, to speak English. Perhaps they would know this almost universal language. I knew it, as well as the German language,—well enough to read it fluently, but not to speak it correctly. But, anyhow, we must make ourselves understood. “Go on in your turn,” I said to the harpooner; “speak your best Anglo-Saxon, and try to do better than I.” Ned did not beg off, and recommenced our story. To his great disgust, the harpooner did not seem to have made himself more intelligible than I had. Our visitors did not stir. They evidently understood neither the language of Arago nor of Faraday. Very much embarrassed, after having vainly exhausted our speaking resources, I knew not what part to take, when Conseil said—