Afterward I was comforted by the reflection that in airless space,
although I might die and my body become desiccated, yet there could be
no real decay; even my garments would probably last forever. The
_savants_, after all, should never speculate on my bones.
I saw the ruddy disk of Mars, and the glinting of his icy poles, as the
beautiful planet rolled far below me. "If I could only get there," I
thought, "I should know what those canals of Schiaparelli are, and even
if I could never return to the earth, I should doubtless meet with a
warm welcome among the Martians. What a lion I should be!" I looked
longingly at the distant planet, the outlines of whose continents and
seas appeared most enticing, but when I tried to propel myself in that
direction I only kicked against nothingness. I groaned in desperation.
Suddenly something darted by me flying sunward; then another and
another. In a minute I was surrounded by strange projectiles. Every
instant I expected to be dashed in pieces by them. They sped with the
velocity of lightning. Hundreds, thousands of them were all about me. My
chance of not being hit was not one in a million, and yet I escaped. The
sweat of terror was upon me, but I did not lose my head. "A comet has
met me," I said. "These missiles are the meteoric stones of which it is
composed." And now I noticed that as they rushed along collisions took
place, and flashes of electricity darted from one to another.
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