my hand with a nervous _empressement_[12] which alarmed me and
strengthened the suspicions already entertained. His countenance was
pale even to ghastliness, and his deep-set eyes glared with unnatural
lustre. After some inquiries respecting his health, I asked him, not
knowing what better to say, if he had yet obtained the _scarabaeus_
from Lieutenant G----.

"Oh, yes," he replied, coloring violently, "I got it from him the next
morning. Nothing could tempt me to part with that _scarabaeus_. Do you
know that Jupiter is quite right about it!"

"In what way?" I asked, with a sad foreboding at heart.

"In supposing it to be a bug of _real gold_." He said this with an air
of profound seriousness, and I felt inexpressibly shocked.

"This bug is to make my fortune," he continued, with a triumphant
smile, and reinstate me in my family possessions. Is it any wonder,
then, that I prize it? Since Fortune has thought fit to bestow it upon
me, I have only to use it properly and I shall arrive at the gold of
which it is the index. Jupiter, bring me that _scarabaeus_!"

"What! de bug, massa? I'd rudder not go fer trubble dat bug--you mus'
git him for your own self." Hereupon Legrand arose, with a grave and
stately air, and brought me the beetle from a glass case in which it
was enclosed. It was a beautiful _scarabaeus_, and, at that time,
unknown to naturalists--of course a great prize in a scientific point
of view. There were two round black spots near one extremity of the
back, and a long one near the other. The scales were exceedingly hard
and glossy, with all the appearance of burnished gold. The weight of
the insect was very remarkable, and, taking all things into
consideration, I could hardly blame Jupiter for his opinion respecting
it; but what to make of Legrand's agreement with that opinion, I could
not, for the life of me, tell.

"I sent for you," said he, in a grandiloquent tone when I had
completed my examination of the beetle, "I sent for you, that I might
have your counsel and assistance in furthering the views of Fate and
of the bug"--

"My dear Legrand," I cried, interrupting him, "you are certainly
unwell, and had better use some little precautions. You shall go to
bed, and I will remain with you a few days, until you get over this.
You are feverish and"--

"Feel my pulse," said he.

I felt it, and, to say the truth, found not the slightest indication
of fever.

"But you may be ill and yet have no feve