At once the rat bounded towards the middle of its cage, biting and rolling about with mad fury ... and my staring eyes went continually from the plantain to the animal, from the twig _quivering like a thin black snake to the rat which had no tail_. Its wound had healed, but the poor beast bore traces of another experiment which it dragged about in its somersaults--a sort of loosened girdle, which still, however, kept fixed in its place a piece of greenery that had been inserted into its slashed flank! This growth seemed to me to have withered. So Lerne was mounting the scale of Being. He was now grafting together the higher animals and all kinds of plants! Infamous and great, my uncle inspired me with disgust and admiration, such as one might feel for a maleficient deity. His works, however, seemed to me less estimable than repulsive, and I had to do violence to myself to force myself to prolong my visit. It was worth it, even if it was merely a figment of the brain. What remained for me to learn surpasses the nightmare of a madman. Frightful, assuredly, but comic too in a way--grotesque, sinister. Which of the sufferers inspired most horror? The guinea-pig, the frog or the trees? The guinea-pig, perhaps was the least extraordinary. Its pelt may have been green only as the result of the green reflection from all those plants. That _may_ be so. But the frog! But the trees! What was one to think of _them_? The frog was green as grass and had all its four legs forced into the soil, planted in the middle of a pot like a vegetable with four roots, its eyelids closed, its aspect dull and mournful. As for the date trees--at first they had given no sign of motion, and I am certain there was no wind blowing--then, when they did move, it was in all directions. Their leaves swayed very gently--I thought I heard something, but I could not swear to it--yes, the trees swayed and came closer at every moment; suddenly they gripped one another with all their green fingers and embraced convulsively. Was it in wrath or in lust? For battle or for love? I know not. The gestures are much alike. Beside the frog a vase of white porcelain was full of a colorless liquid in which was steeped a Pravoz syringe. A similar vase and syringe had been placed near the trees, but here the liquid was brown and curdling. I concluded that they were sap and blood. The date trees had let go of each other, and my trembling hand advanced towards them. I could feel, under the soft warm bark pulse-beats that made it rise and fall with rhythmical cadence.