"The double-animal. Unfortunately, I have to admit that I brought him with me from the otherwise first-rate, high-class carp-pond which I was telling you about. The pain he caused me even then was great, but lately it has become almost unendurable. You must know, the animal consists originally of two worms ... of the kind, you know, that don't care to work for themselves, but take up their quarters with respectable people and suck at them. I have a couple of dozen of those in my stomach, but they don't inconvenience me anything like so much as the double-animal. You see, to increase the meanness of the proceeding, these scoundrels have a trick of fastening together in pairs, cross-wise. They suck themselves firmly on to each other, until they grow into one, and then they suck at me with united strength."
"I never heard anything like it!" said the reed-warbler.
"I have one like it on the other side of my head, in my other gill," said the carp. "We can talk about him later. Meanwhile, may I ask you if you would kindly try to remove the brute with your beak? I should be exceedingly grateful to you. I am in such pain that I would rather die than go on living like this."
At that moment, it was as though the world were coming to an end.
The reed-bank heaved and swayed, the reeds snapped. The reed-warblers screamed, all the seven of them; the water spurted up; the mussel rolled over; the spider's parlour was smashed.
"At last!... At last!..."
It was the pike's voice.
"Spare my life! Spare my life!" yelled the carp.
What happened next no one was ever able properly to describe.
The carp cracked and crunched between the pike's teeth, and all who were near thought their last day had come. But, a little after, it grew still and, when the reed-warblers had recovered themselves, the pike was gone, and the carp's tail-fin lay and floated on the water.