To my great regret I was unable to go with them to Norway, as my duties as an astronomer kept me in Paris.  I anxiously awaited that extraordinary agitation of the magnetic needle which announces the existence of an Aurora Borealis in Northern Europe.  When at last the magnetic perturbation occurred in the observatory, I rejoiced to think that Spero and his bride were floating high, feasting their eyes on the most gorgeous of spectacles.

But suddenly an indefinable feeling of uneasiness came over me, which grew into a dreadful presentiment of disaster.  Long before the telegram arrived from Christiania I knew what had happened.  Georges and Iclea were dead!

Every reader of the newspapers next morning knew as much as I did.  An escape of gas which could not be stopped sent the balloon hurtling to the earth.  Spero threw everything movable out of the car in a vain attempt to lighten it and break the force of the descent.  The balloon still kept falling; then Iclea, with a wild courage born of love, saved Georges’ life by leaping out of the car.  Relieved of her weight, the balloon rose up, but Spero had now no wish to live.  He jumped out with a wild cry, and his body crashed on the edge of the lake into which Iclea had fallen.  There the mortal remains of the two lovers now lie, covered by a single stone.  But where were their souls?

One night Georges Spero remembered his promise to me, and returned to earth.

III.—­A Soul from Mars

Sitting alone on the top of the ancient castle of Montlhery, I was conducting an experiment in optics by means of electrical communications with two assistants at Paris and Juvisy.  I was trying to find out if the rays of different colours in the spectrum travel at the same rate.  It was just on midnight before I brought the experiment to a successful conclusion.  As I covered up my instruments, some one said, “You would not have brought that off, Camille, if it had not been for me.  I gave you the idea of comparing the violet vibrations with the red.”

I turned round with a cry of fear.  Georges Spero was sitting in the moonlight on the parapet, looking at me with a smile.

“Are you afraid of me, Camille?” he said.

“You, Georges!  You!” I stammered.  “Is it really you?  Keep still, and let me touch you.”

I put my hands on his face, and stroked his hair, and felt his body.  I could no longer doubt that I had him before me in the actual flesh, but he read my thoughts.

“You are mistaken, Camille,” he said.  “My real body is asleep on Mars.”

“So you still live?” I exclaimed.  “You have solved the great problem.  And Iclea?”

“Let us sit here and talk,” he replied.  “There are many things I want to tell you.”

My fears had vanished, and I sat by my beloved friend.