"I sent for you," said he, in a grandiloquent tone, when I had completed
my examination of the beetle, "I sent for you that I might have your
counsel and assistance in furthering the views of Fate and of the bug--"

"My dear Legrand," I cried, interrupting him, "you are certainly unwell,
and had better use some little precautions. You shall go to bed, and I
will remain with you a few days, until you get over this. You are
feverish and--"

"Feel my pulse," said he.

I felt it, and, to say the truth, found not the slightest indication of
fever.

"But you may be ill, and yet have no fever. Allow me this once to
prescribe for you. In the first place, go to bed. In the next--"

"You are mistaken," he interposed, "I am as well as I can expect to be
under the excitement which I suffer. If you really wish me well, you
will relieve this excitement."

"And how is this to be done?"

"Very easily. Jupiter and myself are going upon an expedition into the
hills, upon the mainland, and, in this expedition, we shall need the aid
of some person in whom we can confide. You are the only one we can
trust. Whether we succeed or fail, the excitement which you now perceive
in me will be equally allayed."