In spite, however, of the profuse perspirations from which he suffered,
Ben Zoof, constant to his principles, expressed no surprise at the
unwonted heat. No remonstrances from his master could induce him to abandon
his watch from the cliff. To withstand the vertical beams of that noontide
sun would seem to require a skin of brass and a brain of adamant; but yet,
hour after hour, he would remain conscientiously scanning the surface of
the Mediterranean, which, calm and deserted, lay outstretched before him.
On one occasion, Servadac, in reference to his orderly's indomitable
perseverance, happened to remark that he thought he must have been born
in the heart of equatorial Africa; to which Ben Zoof replied, with the
utmost dignity, that he was born at Montmartre, which was all the same.
The worthy fellow was unwilling to own that, even in the matter of heat,
the tropics could in any way surpass his own much-loved home.

This unprecedented temperature very soon began to take effect upon
the products of the soil. The sap rose rapidly in the trees,
so that in the course of a few days buds, leaves, flowers, and fruit
had come to full maturity. It was the same with the cereals;
wheat and maize sprouted and ripened as if by magic,
and for a while a rank and luxuriant pasturage clothed
the meadows. Summer and autumn seemed blended into one.
If Captain Servadac had been more deeply versed in astronomy,
he would perhaps have been able to bring to bear his knowledge
that if the axis of the earth, as everything seemed to indicate,
now formed a right angle with the plane of the ecliptic,
her various seasons, like those of the planet Jupiter, would become
limited to certain zones, in which they would remain invariable.
But even if he had understood the _rationale_ of the change,
the convulsion that had brought it about would have been as much