“It is venomous, the plaintiff further declares. Squatting in the mire at the bottom of some dark hole, it absorbs the unwholesome humors of the slime for use in filling the warts on its back with a milky venom which oozes out and moistens the entire body in time of peril. It also squirts into the eyes of any one who attacks it a liquid, its urine, which burns and stings. It infects the atmosphere with its foul breath. From its gullet drips a fluid that poisons the grass and fruit over which the animal passes, so that its track is as fatal as its appearance is loathsome. In a word, the toad is ugly and venomous; then war without mercy on the hideous creature that infects earth, air, water, and by its very appearance disgusts the beholder! There you have the charges against the toad. “Now what shall I say in my turn, in defense of the poor creature? I shall tell the truth, the simple truth, and the charges made against it will be reduced to nothing. “As to the ugliness of the toad I will not say a word; all are welcome to their own opinion on that subject. I only ask you to recall our talk about bats.” “I don’t think the toad so horribly ugly,” Jules ventured to assert. “Its golden-yellow eyes are full of fire, its voice is sweet, almost flute-like, while the frog’s croak is anything but musical. I admit that the toad’s bloated body is not graceful; but, after all, it has some good points.” “Little toads hopping about among the reeds at the edge of the pond,” said Emile, “are pretty to look at, and they make me laugh when they tumble heels over head every time they jump. I have taken them up in my hand, but I wouldn’t touch big toads; I am afraid of them.” “I wouldn’t either,” Jules agreed, “for fear of their venom.” “Ah, the venom! That is the serious side of the question, and not the creature’s ugliness, which is open to discussion. The toad has the beauty appropriate to it, the beauty of a toad, and it cannot have any other without ceasing to be what it is. “On being molested toads perspire through the warts that cover their skin a thick and viscous fluid that looks somewhat like milk. This secretion has a nauseous, burning taste and is unbearably bitter.” “Some one, then, has tasted the milky sweat that oozes from the toad’s warts?” asked Jules. “Yes, scientists have tasted it in order to tell us the truth about it, just as others have done with the viper’s venom. We must respect highly these courageous investigators, who are willing to make any sacrifice if only they may add to our knowledge and relieve our sufferings.” “The toad sweats this milky liquid when tormented; is that the way it defends itself?” Jules further inquired.