CHAPTER II 



THE SACRED BEETLE : THE PEAR 



A YOUNG shepherd, who had been told in his spare time 

 to watch the doings of the Sacred Beetle, came to me in 

 high spirits, one Sunday, in the second half of June, to 

 say that he thought the time had come to commence a 

 search. He had detected the insect issuing from the 

 ground, had dug at the spot where it made its appearance 

 and had found, at no great depth, the queer thing which 

 he was bringing me. 



Queer it was and calculated to upset the little which I 

 thought I knew. In shape, it was exactly like a tiny 

 pear that had lost all the colour of its freshness and turned 

 brown in rotting. What could this curious object be, 

 this pretty plaything that seemed to come from a turner's 

 workshop ? Was it made by human hands ? Was it a 

 model of the fruit of the pear-tree intended for some 

 child's collection ? One would say so. 



The children come round me ; they look at the treasure- 

 trove with longing eyes ; they would like to add it to the 

 contents of their toy-box. It is much prettier m shape 

 than an agate marble, much more graceful than an ivory 

 egg or a box-wood top. The material, it is true, seems 

 none too nicely chosen ; but it is firm to the touch and 

 very artistically curved. In any case, the little pear dis- 

 covered underground must not go to swell the collection of 

 nursery treasures until we have found out more about it. 



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