CHAPTER XXXII 



THE NETTLE 



AFTER dinner, while their uncle read under the 

 chestnut tree, the children scattered in the 

 garden. Claire attended to her cuttings, Jules 

 watered his vases, and Emile Ah, giddy-pate, 

 what should happen to him but another misfortune ! 

 A large butterfly was flying over the weeds that 

 grow at the foot of the wall. Oh, what a magnificent 

 butterfly! On the upper side its wings are red, 

 fringed with black, with big blue eyes; underneath 

 they are brown with wavy lines. It alights. Good. 

 Emile makes himself small, approaches softly on 

 tip-toe, puts out his hand, and, all at once, the but- 

 terfly is gone. But mark what follows. Emile 

 draws his hand back quickly ; it smarts, is red. The 

 pain increases and becomes so bad that the poor boy 

 runs to his uncle, his eyes swollen with tears. 



"A venomous creature has stung me!" he cries. 

 "See my hand, Uncle! It smarts oh, how it 

 smarts ! Some viper has bitten me ! ' ' 



At this word viper, Uncle Paul started. He rose 

 and looked at the injured hand. A smile came to 

 his lips. 



"Impossible, my little friend; there is no viper 

 in the garden. What foolishness have you been 

 committing? Where have you been?" 



140 



