As the Beetle raised his head from his profound bow, his gaze happened to alight upon the Dewdrop.
"A relative of yours, I presume, Sire?" he remarked affably, waving one of his feelers in the direction of the Dewdrop.
The Diamond burst into a rude, contemptuous laugh.
"Quite too absurd, I declare!" he exclaimed loftily. "But there, what can you expect from a low, grovelling beetle? Away, sir, pass on! Your very presence is distasteful to me. The idea of placing ME upon the same level—in the same family, as a low-born, mean, insignificant, utterly valueless——" Here the Diamond fairly choked for breath.
"But has he not beauty exactly like your own, Sire?" the Beetle ventured to interpose, though with a very timid air.
"BEAU—TY!" flashed the Diamond, with fine disdain—"the impudent fellow merely apes and imitates ME. However, it is some small consolation to remember that 'Imitation is the sincerest flattery.' But, even allowing him to possess it, mere beauty without rank is ridiculous and worthless. A Boat without water—a Carriage, but no horses—a Well, but never a winch: such is beauty without rank and wealth! There is no real worth apart from rank and wealth. Combine Beauty, Rank, and Wealth, and you have the whole world at your feet. Now you know the secret of the world worshipping ME."
And the Diamond sparkled and gleamed with vivid, violet flashes, so that the Beetle was glad to shade his eyes.
The poor Dewdrop had listened silently to all that had passed, and felt so wounded, that at last he wished he never had been born. Slowly a bright tear fell and splashed the dust.
Just then, a Skylark fluttered to the ground and eagerly darted his beak at the Diamond.
"Alas!" he piped, with a great sob of disappointment. "What I thought to be a precious dewdrop is only a worthless diamond. My throat is parched for want of water. I must die of thirst!"