“If master will permit me, I will relate it in German.” But in spite of the elegant terms and good accent of the narrator, the German language had no success. At last, nonplussed, I tried to remember my first lessons, and to narrate our adventures in Latin, but with no better success. This last attempt being of no avail, the two strangers exchanged some words in their unknown language, and retired. The door shut. “It is an infamous shame,” cried Ned Land, who broke out for the twentieth time. “We speak to those rogues in French, English, German, and Latin, and not one of them has the politeness to answer!” “Calm yourself,” I said to the impetuous Ned, “anger will do no good.” “But do you see, Professor,” replied our irascible companion, “that we shall absolutely die of hunger in this iron cage?” “Bah!” said Conseil, philosophically; “we can hold out some time yet.” “My friends,” I said, “we must not despair. We have been worse off than this. Do me the favour to wait a little before forming an opinion upon the commander and crew of this boat.” “My opinion is formed,” replied Ned Land, sharply. “They are rascals.” “Good! and from what country?” “From the land of rogues!” “My brave Ned, that country is not clearly indicated on the map of the world; but I admit that the nationality of the two strangers is hard to determine. Neither English, French, nor German, that is quite certain.