THE MOSQUITO'S ROMANCE 89 



She had flown to some clothes that were hanging 

 behind the door and had rested again. 



After a short time hunger again manifested itself, 

 so she tried to clean her proboscis with her forelegs, 

 but it only made them sticky and uncomfortable. 

 She then tried to thrust the end of the proboscis into 

 the cloth, but this was only partially successful, and 

 the cotton hurt her bristles. She flew out of the 

 kitchen, which was deserted, for the native servants 

 were cackling to each other on the stoep, and she at 

 length had found her way into a bedroom where 

 there was a man lying ill on a bed. He had pushed 

 the mosquito net aside to get more air, and then had 

 fallen asleep. The room was almost dark. She 

 settled at once on the mosquito net, waving her hind- 

 legs in an expectant way. The thoughts of a meal 

 made her feel a pleasurable excitement, but she also 

 felt, instinctively, the need for caution. 



The man's hand lay exposed on the coverlet, so 

 she hopped down and alighted very softly on to the 

 back of his fingers. Again she rubbed her proboscis, 

 and then very gently attempted to thrust it through 

 the skin, which was hot and pungent with fever ; the 

 sleeper was sweating profusely. But the skin here 

 was hard, and she could not pierce it. She changed 

 her position slightly and tried another spot, where 

 at the bottom of a tiny fold between the palm and 

 the little finger she could gain an entrance. Imme- 

 diately the point of her proboscis entered the cuticle 

 her saliva began to flow into the skin, and before she 

 could pierce any small vein the sleeper moved his 



