Hakkabut looked keenly into the captain's face.
"We have only come to know whether you can lend us a steelyard."
So far from showing any symptom of relief, the old miser exclaimed,
with a stare of astonishment, as if he had been asked for some
thousand francs: "A steelyard?"
"Yes!" echoed the professor, impatiently; "a steelyard."
"Have you not one?" asked Servadac.
"To be sure he has!" said Ben Zoof.
Old Isaac stammered and stuttered, but at last confessed that perhaps
there might be one amongst the stores.
"Then, surely, you will not object to lend it to us?"
said the captain.
"Only for one day," added the professor.
The Jew stammered again, and began to object. "It is a very
delicate instrument, your Excellency. The cold, you know,
the cold may do injury to the spring; and perhaps you are going
to use it to weigh something very heavy."
"Why, old Ephraim, do you suppose we are going to weigh a mountain with it?"
said Ben Zoof.
"Better than that!" cried out the professor, triumphantly; "we are going
to weigh Gallia with it; my comet."
"Merciful Heaven!" shrieked Isaac, feigning consternation
at the bare suggestion.
Servadac knew well enough that the Jew was holding out only for a
good bargain, and assured him that the steelyard was required for no
other purpose than to weigh a kilogramme, which (considering how much
lighter everything had become) could not possibly put the slightest
strain upon the instrument.
The Jew still spluttered, and moaned, and hesitated.
"Well, then," said Servadac, "if you do not like to lend us your steelyard,
do you object to sell it to us?"
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