The Banded Monk 



These arrangements arc made in the morn- 

 ing, so that the room may be thoroughly satu- 

 rated when the trysting-hour arrives. 



In the afternoon, the study has become an 

 odious laboratory in which the penetrating 

 aroma of lavender-oil and the foul stench of 

 sulphuretted hydrogen predominate. Remem- 

 ber that I smoke in this room and plentifully 

 at that. Will the concentrated odours of a 

 gas-works, a smoker's divan, a scent-shop, 

 an oil-well and a chemical factory succeed in 

 putting off the Monk? 



Not at all. A little before three, the Moths 

 arrive, as numerous as ever. They go to the 

 cage, which I have taken pains to cover with 

 a thick kitchen-cloth, so as to increase the diffi- 

 culty. Though they see nothing after they 

 have entered, though they are steeped in a 

 foreign atmosphere in which any subtle fra- 

 grance should have been annihilated, they fly 

 towards the prisoner and try to get at her by 

 slipping under the folds of the cloth. My 

 artifices are fruitless. 



After this reverse, so definite in its results, 

 which repeats what my naphthaline experi- 

 ment with the Great Peacock taught me, I 

 ought, logically speaking, to give up the 



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