rest he set down to the score of
his own humanity, and took credit to himself accordingly: whereas in
truth Monsieur Crapaud was of incalculable service to his master, who
would lie and chatter to him for hours, and almost forget his present
discomfort in recalling past happiness, as he described the chateau,
the gardens, the burly tutor, and beautiful Madame, or laughed over
his childish remembrances of the toad's teeth in Claude Mignon's
pocket; whilst Monsieur Crapaud sat well-bred and silent, with a world
of comprehension in his fiery eyes. Whoever thinks this puerile must
remember that my hero was a Frenchman, and a young Frenchman, with a
prescriptive right to chatter for chattering's sake, and also that he
had not a very highly cultivated mind of his own to converse with,
even if the most highly cultivated intellect is ever a reliable
resource against the terrors of solitary confinement.

Foolish or wise, however, Monsieur the Viscount's attachment
strengthened daily; and one day something happened which showed his
pet in a new light, and afforded him fresh amusement.

The prison was much infested with certain large black spiders, which
crawled about the floor and walls; and, as Monsieur the Viscount was
lying on his pallet, he saw one of these scramble up and over the
stone on which sat Monsieur Crapaud. That good gentleman, whose eyes,
till then, had been fixed as usual on his master, now turned his
attention to the intruder. The spider, as if conscious of danger, had
suddenly stopped still. Monsieur Crapaud gazed at it intently with his
beautiful eyes, and bent himself slightly forward. So they remained
for some seconds, then the spider turned round, and began suddenly to
scramble away. At this instant Monsieur the Viscount saw his friend's
eyes gleam with an intenser fire, his head was jerked forwards; it
almost seemed as if something had been projected from his mouth, and
drawn back again with the rapidity of lightning. Then Monsieur Crapaud
resumed his position, drew in his head, and gazed mildly and sedately
before him; _but the spider was nowhere to be seen_.

Monsieur the Viscount burst into a loud laugh.

"Eh, well! Monsieur," said he, "but this is not well-bred on your
part. Who gave you leave to eat my spiders? and to bolt them in such
an unmannerly way, moreover."

In spite of this reproof Monsieur Crapaud looked in no way ashamed of
himself, and I regret to state that henceforward (with the par