“Well, it seems to be moving, and that’s just as bad. I’m tired and I’m lonely. Oh, please, Professor Scarab, have I got to fall on your neck again to introduce a little human companionship into this conversation?”
“Caesar! No! My shoulder’s still lame. What do you want, anyway?”
“I want to know about you and your work. All about you.”
“Humph! Well, at present I’m making some microscopical studies of insects. That’s the reason for these glasses. The light is so harsh in these latitudes that it affects the vision a trifle, and every trifle counts in microscopy.”
“Does the microscope add charm to the beetle?”
“Some day I’ll show you, if you like. Just now it’s the flea, the national bird of Caracuña.”
“The wicked flea?”
“Nobody knows how wicked until he has studied him on his native heath.”
“Doesn’t the flea have something to do with plague? They say there’s plague in the city now. You knew all about the Dutch. Do you know anything about the plague?”
“You’ve been listening to bolas.”