The Life of the Fly 



showed a fair amount of information as he 

 changed his subject from the ice-floes of Spitz- 

 bergen to the dunes of Gascony, from a Car- 

 lovingian charter to the flora of the Sahara, 

 from the progress in beetroot-growing to 

 Caesar's trenches before Alesia. When my 

 turn came, he questioned me upon the hyper- 

 metamorphosis of the Meloldae,^ my last es- 

 say in entomology. I answered as best I 

 could, floundering a little in the proper mode 

 of address, mixing up the everyday monsieur 

 with sire, a word whose use was so entirely 

 new to me. I passed through the dread straits 

 and others succeeded me. My five minutes' 

 conversation with an imperial majesty was, 

 they tell me, a most distinguished honour. 

 I am quite ready to believe them, but I never 

 had a desire to repeat it. 



The reception came to an end, bows were 

 exchanged and we were dismissed. A 

 luncheon awaited us at the minister's house. 

 I sat on his right, not a little embarrassed by 

 the privilege; on his left was a physiologist of 

 great renown. Like the others, I spoke of all 

 manner of things, including even Avignon 

 Bridge. Duruy's son, sitting opposite me, 

 chaffed me pleasantly about the famous bridge 



'A family of Beetles, including the Oil-beetle and the 

 Spanish Fly. — Translator's Note, 

 468 



