- end_line
- 10989
- extracted_at
- 2026-01-30T03:55:03.883Z
- extracted_by
- structure-extraction-lambda
- start_line
- 10873
- text
- going off. I told Biddy to wire the bottles to-day.’
I shall here transcribe from memoranda, kept during part of the night.
‘One o’clock. No sign of the bug. Ticking continues. Wife getting
sleepy.
‘Two o’clock. No sign of the bug. Ticking intermittent. Wife fast
asleep.
‘Three o’clock. No sign of the bug. Ticking pretty steady. Julia
and Anna getting sleepy.
‘Four o’clock. No sign of the bug. Ticking regular, but not
spirited. Wife, Julia, and Anna, all fast asleep in their chairs.
‘Five o’clock. No sign of the bug. Ticking faint. Myself feeling
drowsy. The rest still asleep.’
So far the journal.
--Rap! rap! rap!
A terrific, portentous rapping against a door.
Startled from our dreams, we started to our feet.
Rap! rap! rap!
Julia and Anna shrieked.
I cowered in the corner.
‘You fools!’ cried my wife, ‘it’s the baker with the bread.’
Six o’clock.
She went to throw back the shutters, but ere it was done, a cry came
from Julia. There, half in and half out its crack, there wriggled the
bug, flashing in the room’s general dimness, like a fiery opal.
Had this bug had a tiny sword by its side--a Damascus sword--and a tiny
necklace round its neck--a diamond necklace--and a tiny gun in its
claw--brass gun--and a tiny manuscript in its mouth--a Chaldee
manuscript--Julia and Anna could not have stood more charmed.
In truth, it was a beautiful bug--a Jew jeweller’s bug--a bug like a
sparkle of a glorious sunset.
Julia and Anna had never dreamed of such a bug. To them, bug had been a
word synonymous with hideousness. But this was a seraphical bug; or
rather, all it had of the bug was the B, for it was beautiful as a
butterfly.
Julia and Anna gazed and gazed. They were no more alarmed. They were
delighted.
‘But how got this strange, pretty creature into the table?’ cried Julia.
‘Spirits can get anywhere,’ replied Anna.
‘Pshaw!’ said my wife.
‘Do you hear any more ticking?’ said I.
They all applied their ears, but heard nothing.
‘Well, then, wife and daughters, now that it is all over, this very
morning I will go and make inquiries about it.’
‘Oh do, papa,’ cried Julia, ‘do go and consult Madame Pazzi, the
conjuress.’
‘Better go and consult Professor Johnson, the naturalist,’ said my wife.
‘Bravo, Mrs. Democritus!’ said I. ‘Professor Johnson is the man.’
By good fortune I found the professor in. Informing him briefly of the
incident, he manifested a cool, collected sort of interest, and gravely
accompanied me home. The table was produced, the two openings pointed
out, the bug displayed, and the details of the affair set forth; my wife
and daughters being present.
‘And now, Professor,’ said I, ‘what do you think of it?’
Putting on his spectacles, the learned professor looked hard at the
table, and gently scraped with his penknife into the holes, but said
nothing.
‘Is it not an unusual thing, this?’ anxiously asked Anna.
‘Very unusual, Miss.’
At which Julia and Anna exchanged significant glances.
‘But is it not wonderful, very wonderful?’ demanded Julia.
‘Very wonderful, Miss.’
My daughters exchanged still more significant glances, and Julia,
emboldened, again spoke.
‘And must you not admit, sir, that it is the work of--of--of sp----?’
‘Spirits? No,’ was the crusty rejoinder.
‘My daughters,’ said I, mildly, ‘you should remember that this is not
Madame Pazzi, the conjuress, you put your questions to, but the eminent
naturalist, Professor Johnson. And now, Professor,’ I added, ‘be pleased
to explain. Enlighten our ignorance.’
Without repeating all the learned gentleman said--for, indeed, though
lucid, he was a little prosy--let the following summary of his
explication suffice.
- title
- Chunk 4