The sun continues to shine, the earth to revolve upon its axis, as though it had not occurred.

The machine of the universe would be subject to quite too many accidents should it become unsettled every time a woman made a mistake.
"It was I who was right; they were incapable of comprehending him," though Mlle.

Moriaz, as she crossed the Seine, and she contemplated with a delighted eye the lovely blue sky, the tranquil waters, the verdant banks of the river, with their long range of poplar-trees.

It seemed to her that all was going well, that order reigned everywhere, that the Great Mechanician was at his post, that the world was in good hands, and that travellers therein had no cause to fear untoward mischance.
When she arrived at Cormeilles, M.Moriaz was shut up in his laboratory, which he had been overjoyed to find just as he had left it.

A velvet skull-cap perched on one side of his head, his sleeves turned up, a brown holland apron tied round his neck and his waist, a feather brush in his hand, he had proceeded at once to examine his precious stock in detail--his furnaces, his long-necked, big-bellied matrasses, the curved necks and the tubulures of his retorts, his cucurbits, and his alembics.
Balloons, tubes, pipettes, pneumatic vats, receivers, cupels, lamps, bell-glasses, blow-pipes, and mortars, he passed in review to assure himself that during his absence nothing had been damaged.